Page 63 of When Lies Unfold

His arms are covered in various tattooed designs of blood dripping from knives, skulls, and guns molded over the cuts and curves of his muscles. Though I estimate his age to be somewhere from early to mid-forties, his body doesn’t indicate it in the least. It’s clear he puts in the work to keep himself in prime condition.

Which is necessary for a man in his line of “work,” I suppose.

“You talkin’ to somebody out here?” His demanding tone jerks my attention off his body, but I’m not granted a chance to respond.

Belleza’s purrs grow even louder as she steps forward and into a shaft of light. Santiago draws his weapon, and I move in front of her protectively, holding up a hand to stop him. “Don’t shoot! She’s not a threat.”

Expression incredulous, his eyes flash with aggravation. “That’s a fuckin’ black puma right beside you.”

I settle a hand on Belleza’s back and smooth her silky fur in what I hope is a comforting stroke. Maintaining a calm tone, I repeat, “She’s not a threat, Santiago.”

Focusing on the large cat, I feel her muscles relax the tiniest fraction at my whispered words. “He won’t hurt you, sweetie. I won’t let him.”

His tone is commanding and steely. “Move outta the way.”

I coo softly to the cat while I answer him, “Nooo. I’m not going to do that, because you’re going to put your gun away.” Casting Santiago a pointed look, I tack on firmly, “Trust me. Just put the gun away.”

He visibly hesitates, and I know I’m asking a lot of him. Like her, he’s also territorial and proud. Once he finally lowers his weapon, a rush of an exhale falls past my lips. “See?” I whisper to her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She raises her head to peer up at me with her luminescent eyes before giving my hand a lick. Then she bounds away, over the railing, and disappears into the night.

Ensconced in taut silence, I turn to face him fully. His expression causes me to falter, however, because his face is a mask of fury. Gun now holstered, his hands clench and unclench at his sides.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” His tone holds a lethally dark undertone, each word slicing like a steel barb. “Messin’ with a wild animal like that?”

“You’re overreacting. I was never in danger.”

“I’m overreactin’?” He looks like he’s a second away from being well past the apoplectic stage. “You think I’m overreactin’ when there was a wild fuckin’ animal directly. Beside. You? It could’ve killed you!”

“I told you to trust me.” I heave out an aggrieved breath. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s my bedtime.” I stride forward, hating that I’m forced to walk past him to get by.

Of course, he’s not going to let me escape that easily. At the last second, he blocks my exit.

His nearness threatens me in so many ways. Something inside me must be broken, I’m convinced. That’s the only excuse for my reaction to a man like him. To feel electrified from the inside out. To feel alive.

It’s something I haven’t experienced in years.

I immediately stop my train of thought and shove it deep into one of the many vaults I keep locked away. To want a man—to crave both him and his touch—has been foreign to me.

It’s also decidedly idiotic.

As if that’s not enough, he’s immersed me in danger. I can’t afford to let myself get swept away on the basis of my libido.

His trademark masculine scent taunts my senses. Traces of light bathe his face, sweeping over the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the curve of his lips.

A hint of wonder laces his raspy voice. “So, Lola Arias has a way with wild animals, too…”

His gaze sweeps over my features. “You find that peace you were lookin’ for?” With a chin lift, he gestures to where the panther disappeared. “She help you find it?”

“Briefly.” I tip my chin up a fraction higher, pointedly holding his gaze. “But now, it’s suddenly vanished.”

The edges of his mouth tip up the slightest bit. “That so?”

I dart a glance past him. “Now, if you’ll be so kind as to let me past…” He closes the distance, bringing our bodies even closer.

“Did you get what I left you?” Voice uncharacteristically soft, his eyes drop to my wrists now hidden by the sleeves of my hoodie.

My lungs grow tight at what I swear is a hint of concern in his tone. “Yes.” I smother the urge to lower my defenses at his seemingly thoughtful gesture and follow-up, my words emerging stilted and almost robotic. “Thank you.”

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