Page 13 of To Catch A Rook

A resonating vibration pulsed against my cheek, but it wasn’t of the pocket sex-toy variety.

“Don’t answer that.” Delicately, I stroked my fingers up his shaft and peered into the most haunted eyes I had ever seen, challenging him to choose me first.

I groaned with frustration as Kellan drew back and reached into his pocket for the technological mood-killer. The navy in his eyes crackled as he read through the message.

The smog of hazy lust dissipated in mere seconds as he gracefully shifted his weight off of me to stand. Swiftly, he tucked himself back into his trousers.

My blood bubbled to boiling for an entirely different reason. This was the way it always was—the very cause of my anger. For all of his intentions, Kellan was a slave to his cause and a pawn for his family. I was nothing but a convenient distraction—and most times, we couldn’t even get to the ‘distraction’ part.

“What’s Daddy saying tonight?” I sneered, pulling down my light pink dress and adjusting my ponytail. I deepened my voice into a sarcastic drawl. “Come to me, Kellan. The Cartel needs you.”

He curled his lip in a threatening scowl. Gone were the two lovers who desperately needed one another, replaced by two leaders of empires with legions to command. Although Kellan’s allegiances were far murkier than mine.

“We’re not speaking about this, Hill.”

“Why? Afraid of who’s listening? I’ve spent a fortune on this building, Kellan—no one, other than you, has ever gotten in unannounced, and that was because Iletyou.”

I stood to match his stance, glowering up at his fierce expression. “Please don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m some damsel over here. I know everything there is to know about the Carlos Cartel, and I’m not afraid of your family bullshit.”

“You should be!” The rage that overtook Kellan’s normally neutral face surprised me with its vehemence.

Wewere no strangers to fucked-up family situations. I had helped him with his own troubles several years ago when his brother and nephew needed a safe place to hide. At no point in the six years since had Kellan shown me any fear for my safety.

Something must be up—with Antonio or his twin brothers—and it was eating at him.

I immediately changed tactics. It would be far quicker to coax Kellan to fess up than it would be to get my PI on it—and that involved some very careful questioning when Antonio Carlos was involved.

“What’s going on, Kellan?” I softened my voice and trailed a finger down his chest, staring up at him with genuine concern. “Why are you afraidforme all of a sudden?”

I could feel him flexing his fists by his sides, and I absently wondered if his phone would survive the vice grip. His determined glare weakened just a smidgen, enough to let me know he would let down his barrier enough to answer the question.

“He’s talking about taking a successor.” The words were bit out; whether they were too hard to admit, or too hard to admit tome, I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. If Antonio wanted to name a successor, there was no question in my mind it would be Kellan.

“And with Georgio out of the picture, he wants it to be you.”

His throat bobbed with a hard swallow, and he dipped his head in a nod.

“Does the FBI know?”

A shake of the head. “No. And if they do, I’ll be more compromised than I already am.”

My heart twinged at that tiny, but momentous, admission. Kellan should suffer from multiple personality disorder with the life he had been forced to lead. My ire didn’t disappear, but shared its space now with some compassion.

“The world isn’t black and white, Kel,” I murmured gently. “Most of us exist in the gray.”

A dark scowl matched the furrowed brows of a troubled man. “The gray is only going to get people killed.”

“And?” I shifted my shoulders back and stared into the deep blue pits of his burning eyes. “People die in this business, Kellan. One cockroach burns and another scurries in to take its place. We’re puppet masters, but we can’t control all the puppets.”

I laughed bitterly at the acknowledgment; if only I could control all the variables of this chess game. Money could buy most things, but it couldn’t buy absolution. Good people still burned in hell and bad guys still roamed free. It was why we’d chosen these twisted paths with gnarled moral codes.

We were shrouded in guilt and burdened with sorrow; and people would continue to die.

Jagged glass coated his words. “There are some people I’m trying tokeepalive. If they weren’t such stubborn, ungratefulbrats.”

My caustic laugh could have burned through lead pipe. “I’ve never needed your protection, Kellan dearest. Go save someone else’s life.”

Instead of agreeing, or more likely, disagreeing with me, the Viking lookalike shot freshly sharpened daggers in my direction and then turned away to type with unfiltered fury. He stalked toward the doorway without another word.

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