Page 18 of Keep Me

“I guess a better question then is why don’t you trust your father?”

There’s a slight wave of disappointment over her face before she speaks, as if she doesn’t like the answer. “Because I think he’s murdering women—cartel women—and using me and Verano to cover it up.”

“What makes you think that?”

She laughs, pushing off the counter and wagging her finger. “You're smooth. I’ll give you that, Fox.” She crosses the kitchen and pulls out two mugs, then a sugar jar. She gives me a mischievous smirk, dark eyes dancing under her lashes as she looks up at me. “Sugar or cyanide?”

“Black.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know drinking shitty coffee doesn’t make you any tougher.”

I nearly laugh, because it’s true. I got in the habit of drinking black coffee as a teen because I thought it was manlier, now I just prefer the taste. I disguise it as clearing my throat. “Back to my question, Cortez.”

She looks at me almost bewildered, like I’m crazy for even asking. “Why would I tell you? So you can go report everything I know back to my father?”

I beat her to the fridge. “That’s not what I was hired to do. But I know my word isn’t enough.” I hand her both the coconut milk and the soy milk because I know she likes a mix of them. “So, how about I help you find whoever is responsible?”

“And why would you do that?” She gives me a side eye as she accepts the milks.

“It’s pretty fucking boring sitting around all day. At least this would be something to do.” I can’t help but wonder if this is an offer I’ll regret. Me and her working together? Should be a terrible prospect. I should take it back right now. But for some reason I find my heart’s beating faster waiting for her response.

She takes her coffee to the small dining table, a pensive pinch in her brows. She didn’t come back with an immediate snarky answer, so she must be seriously considering it. “What if it turns out to be my father?”

I pull out a chair and join her. I fold my arms on the table in front of me, and her eyes drop to my forearms. She licks her bottom lip, and a spark of heat flutters in my stomach.

Her eyes jolt back up to mine when I speak. “I don’t have a dog in this fight. If you think it’s a serious possibility that he’s behind this, then you have to decide before we start if that’s something you even want to know.”

Her jaw shifts, and she stares into her coffee. It’s not fear that shadows her face, it’s heartbreak. My family is fucked up in too many ways to count, but none of them would ever try to kill me. And with something as destructive and violent as a bomb? No, they would take me out execution style, painlessly.

“He didn’t protest when I wanted out.” There’s a crack of vulnerability in her tone that has me leaning forward. “When I wanted to come to the States to study, he supported me one hundred percent. We may not be as close as before, and I’m sure there’s miles of secrets between us, but we’ve always had a strong relationship.”

She pauses, and her throat bobs with a swallow. I want to brush the messy strands of hair off her neck. Or twist them around my fist, I’m not really sure. I just want to touch her. The urge is so sudden and unexpected that I have to clench my fists to keep from shoving this table out from between us.

“I’m sure he’s capable of things far more horrible than I think he is, but it’s hard to believe he’d try to hurt me.” She lifts her chin and meets my eyes. “But I’ve been on the outside for so long that I’m worried I don’t truly know him anymore.”

“You don’t strike me as the kind of person to go down without a fight. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” There’s a flash of pride across her face, and the hint of a smile.

She brings her coffee to her lips and smirks over the rim of the mug. “Look at us, working together as a team.”

“Reluctant partners,” I correct, then rise from my chair. I stride to the hall, turning my back so she doesn’t see the same smile haunting my lips.

I make some calls to set things up while Reggie spends an eternity getting ready. I don’t know what she was doing because when she comes out of her bedroom, she’s wearing the same thing but switched out the boxers for a pair of denim cut-offs.

She stops in front of where I’m sitting on the couch. “Ready?”

Standing, I nod. My body hums the closer she gets to the door, but relaxes when she only grabs her purse on a hook by it. I glance down at a text from Finn for a half second and hear the heart-stopping sound of the opening door.

Blinding and painful illogical panic courses through me, as if I’m being struck by lightning. I’ve already closed the distance between us before I even consciously decide. “Don’t open the door!”

My arms are wrapped around her middle, picking her up off the floor and carrying her away from the threshold. I feel her abdomen twist and flex under my vise-like grip. “Put me down!”

I register the empty and quiet apartment hallway, then set a fuming Reggie down. “Don’t do that again.” My voice comes out even despite my heart still racing. I haven’t been triggered while awake in years, and I feel a wash of shame. Weak.

I feel as frazzled and confused on the inside as she looks on the outside. Her eyes are big and wild, her shoulders are shaking with heavy breaths, and her fight-or-flight system is still roaring. “Don’t do what, pendejo? Open my own fucking door?”

“You never know what’s on the other side. I clear every door first, got it?” I force my shoulders to relax and my fists to unclench, calming my battering internal storm. A moment of heavy silence passes as we both regain our footing on solid ground.

I can tell the exact moment she’s found hers, because the shock in her eyes is replaced with vitriol and she steps up to me, unafraid. “Let’s get on the same page about this, Fox. You are some gringuito who has inserted himself into my life—my home—uninvited, and you made it crystal clear yesterday that there’s nothing I can do about it. But I don’t owe you my niceness, and I sure as hell don’t owe you my obedience.”

---