Page 51 of Twin Deception

Even though he was my hero, I wasn’t sure whether that was a delusion I had to break out of.

Was he my savior or the attraction of all this trouble?

The smart thing to do would be to run as fast and far as possible, but locked in this intense stare down with him as I searched his rugged face for an answer, I internally cringed at how the thought of leaving him would feel like the worst decision of my life.

19

MIGUEL

Indecision flashed in her brown eyes. Warm but flinty with anger, she stared up at me and rubbed her wrist.

I knew she was debating it all.

Running or staying.

I didn’t have to ask if she was thinking about how fast she could get out of here. Assuming she was about to bolt, I regretted that moment of relief I let myself feel last night. When I came back to the room and saw her sleeping on the bed, I inhaled a deep breath of satisfaction.

That she’d listened to me and came here to wait for me. That she wanted to stay with me or nearby. If it wasn’t clear to her that it was in her own best interests to stick with me, after I’d saved her life multiple times, I wasn’t sure what else could be motivating her to question all that I told her.

Looking at her sleeping, I tried to shake off those doubts and angry suspicions that man made me feel as he tried to choke the life out of me. He’d instilled too many questions in my mind about her, encouraging me to question whether she was workingwith Louis or not. Whether she’d lied to me about not knowing anything.

I showered and lay on the couch last night, reminding myself that it wasn’t my job to question the need for any target’s death. I was just the hitman, there to do the dirty work. Since spotting her and falling instantly like this, I had to try to justify why I couldn’t do my job of killing her. I was flummoxed with this need to prove her worth, to show that she didn’t need to be kidnapped or killed if she was innocent. Whether using her as a pawn to lure Louis out of hiding would even work if they were estranged and no longer significant in each other’s life.

That was why I got up and cuffed her to the bed, needing the reassurance that she would be here this morning to talk to me and give me some answers.

I couldn’t rely on my judgments anymore, not when they were all colored by this deep attraction and desire to keep her close. Obsessed with her already, I had to take steps to ensure I could think straight later about all of this.

Now, as she rubbed her wrists and frowned at me, I had to wonder about it all over again. If she couldstilltry to run and leave me, what would it take to convince her that I was looking out for her and wanting to keep her safe? What would it take for her to convince herself that she was wasting both of our time by running and trying to hide?

“Don’t, Isabel. Don’t even think about it. Don’t try to run.”

She stood, narrowing her eyes at me. Through the anger that showed so clearly on her face, I detected the concern she couldn’t fully mask. She was worried, alarmed by the fact thatI’d been shot. Shocked, too, by the return of violence in her proximity.

“Iwillfind you again.”

She opened and closed her mouth.

“And youwillgive me the answers I need.”

Flinging her hand up, she shook her head. “This again? That’s why you handcuffed me to the fucking bed?”

“I need answers to keep you safe.”

She furrowed her brow, looking past me and wincing at the sight out there. “But I don’t have any answers. I am nothing to Louis and he is nothing to me. I have nothing to tell you.”

Then why would that man say he had to end Louis’s woman? His femme fatale?

“What will it take for you to believe me, Miguel?” She gestured at the mess in the living room. “I have no clue how to even process this. This isn’t who I am. This isn’t my life. I know nothing about Louis, and he has never cared to keep tabs on me.”

“We can discuss this later.” I grimaced as I stepped to the side, giving up the foolish urge to hold her and hug her, to comfort her somehow. Instead, I forced through the pain in my ankle from landing a poorly aimed kick at that intruder who’d come to kill her.

Or me.

Probably her. I heard her when she admitted this wasn’t anything she was used to, but there was no way either of us could deny the very real and very clear fact that someone wanted her dead.

That shewasLouis Flores’s daughter and that he’d gotten mixed up with the wrong people one too many times.

I limped, unable to fully hold my weight on my ankle, and she reached over to help me upright.

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