Page 164 of When Lies Unfold

“That so?”

She nods. “That’s so.”

Dread tries to edge its way in ’cause I’ve got an idea of what she’s plannin’ to do.

Out of all the women I could’ve found, it ended up bein’ her. The infamous wife of Hidalgo Carrera.

None of the rumors did her any justice. Certainly never mentioned anythin’ about her bein’ brave as fuck. Selfless. Smart as hell. Beautiful without even tryin’. A woman who could bewitch wild animals.

And me.

The words free-fall before I can think twice about ’em. “It’s gonna be that easy to leave me, huh?” A thick layer of vulnerability cloaks my voice, makin’ me wish I could somehow erase what I said. ’Cause that’s not me. I’m not this kinda man.

Which is why I’m avoidin’ her eyes.

When she doesn’t say a word, I’m about to shove away from her and storm out. Then she reaches for me. Petite hands frame my face as she smooths her thumbs along my cheeks above the border of my scruff.

“No.” Her ragged whisper has my attention liftin’ to her. Those eyes of hers hold so much sadness that it sends debilitatin’ pain scorchin’ through me. “It’s not easy at all.”

Our gazes hold for a long beat before she leans in and presses her lips to mine. I don’t move—I can’t.

There’s somethin’ different about this kiss. It acts like an invisible hand reachin’ inside me to clench all my damn organs in a painful fist. ’Cause I know what this kiss means.

It’s goodbye.

My woman’s prepared for the worst in order to get my daughter back to me. And I may not’ve known her long, but I know this much: there’s nothin’ I can say or do to convince her to do somethin’ different. Her mind’s made up.

Which means I’ve got my work cut out for me.

It means I’ve gotta make this moment count. The only way I want her to leave here is with my mark on her.

I trail my lips along her jawline and down the sleek column of her neck. When I shove the strap of her bra down and nip at her skin with my teeth, she lets out a little moan and clutches my biceps.

“Santy,” she breathes. “I need to tell you?—”

I suck a mark on her collarbone, cuttin’ off her words. I can’t fuckin’ bear to hear whatever it is she’s tryin’ to say.

I just can’t.

76

SANTIAGO

I don’t wanna talk about the possibility of her not comin’ back. Don’t wanna entertain the idea of that motherfucker killin’ her.

Not only that, but I don’t wanna hear how much she’s gonna miss me and Alma. I’m already gutted over this, and she’s not even gone yet.

Once I release her skin and lean back to look at it, satisfaction sears through me. I’m leavin’ my mark on her, brandin’ her my own way.

It sure as hell isn’t the same way that fucker did. I’m not hurtin’ her, and it’s not permanent. But I am layin’ claim to her.

She’s not cryin’ or in pain. She’s willingly lettin’ me mark her. She’s gotta know what I’m tryin’ to tell her without actual words.

I’m hopin’ she knows she’ll be takin’ a part’a me with her.

Little by little, I trail my mouth over her exposed skin, leavin’ little marks until I reach the slope of one lush tit. Impatience takes hold of me, and I shove her sports bra up and over her head, discardin’ it to the floor.

Cuppin’ the weight of her tits in my hands, I graze her nipples with my callused thumbs. Then I lower my head and capture one hard peak in my mouth, battin’ at it with my tongue till she whimpers and arches, pushin’ it deeper into my mouth.

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