Page 39 of Hearts Of Darkness

“Where are your clothes?” I ask, watching him as he stalks across the room. There’s not an inch of fat beneath that perfect olive skin. There’s only a faint disfiguring under his left rib cage and his right hip.Battle scars,I think quickly andglance away before he catches me staring.

“Right here,” he says, bending down to pick his shirt up from the floor.

“I don’t meanthose… Where do you keep all your other stuff?”

“Why concern yourself with that?” He shrugs into his shirt and starts fastening the buttons.

“Why?Because it’s weird. There are no jeans or shirts hanging in your closet next door, but every time I see you, you’re dressed differently.”

“Black magic,” he drawls, reaching for his jeans.

“I don’t know anything about you. You’re an enigma with a penchant for acting like some sick executioner.”

“You know a few things, but you just choose not to acceptthem. You choose to close your ears and eyes to exactly what I do because it’s unpalatable. I’m not judging you for it, Eve, but let’s not dress it up as something it’s not.”

“Maybe I’m ready to listen,” I say quietly as a vision of Ryan flashes before my eyes. “You could start by giving me a straight answer when I ask you a question.”

“Likewise.”

There’s a pause. “You know I’m not a receptionist, don’t you?”

He smirks and turns for the door.

“How long have you known?”

“Toast or cereal?”

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” I watch him stiffen. “You know, don’t you? You know exactly what I write about.” My heart is hammering in my chest. This isn’t about the safety of my parents anymore. This is about me and him. I need to see some sort of guarantee in those dark eyes because I can’t live the rest of my life in fear. I want to grasp at some semblance of a future, or end it, right here, right now, in this bedroom. “If you’re willing to torture a girl for going through your stuff, what are you going to do to a reporter who writes the truth about the narcotics trade and hates everything it stands for? Because that’s who you’re working for, isn’t it Dante? Cartels like the Santiagos?”

He frowns. “What the fuck do you know about the Santiagos?”

“I know they’re the lowest of the low. They’re cowards who hide themselves behind others. They manipulate this business to line their own crooked bank accounts, to hell with the families they destroy along the way…” My voice catches inmy throat. “There, I’ve said it. I’ve laid all my cards on the table, so just kill me now and get it over with.”

I close my eyes and wait for the bullet.

Seconds bleed into minutes. I’m still waiting… Eventually, I force my eyes open again. He’s just standing there, staring at me.

“You’re right,” he says roughly. “Perhaps we’re both guilty of enforced ignorance. And no, I’m not going to kill you, Eve Miller. Why? Because you’d never betray me.”

He says it like he’s daring me to contradict him.

“How can you be so sure?” I whisper. I’d jump at the chance to avenge my brother. I won’t rest until the Santiagos are held accountable for his murder.

“Because you and me…whatever this is…it’s bigger than that.” He walks back over to the bed to caress my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I’m not so naïve as to think that what I am and what I do doesn’t affect you. I’m not conventional, Eve. I’m not a lawyer or a fucking accountant, and I don’t purport to be.”

“There must have been a choice somewhere along the way… There might still be one?”

He sighs and lets go. “Not for me.”

“The past doesn’t have to dictate—”

“Do you follow your own advice, Eve, or is it just a guideline for bad men like me?”

This pulls me up short. “You know about my brother, don’t you?”

“Yes… I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t sound it. His face is devoid of all emotion, which scares me most of all.

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