Page 51 of Marked

Though, whatever indignation I felt faded. Perhaps I’d done exactly what I’d always chided my mother for.

“Mom, chill,” I said, keeping my voice low. I didn’t need Nate hearing this argument. “He’s a private investigator.”

She frowned, her face twisting into a mask of confusion. “Why is there a private investigator in our apartment?”

I ran through a hundred different excuses, but I had no time to sort out the pros and cons of each lie. Instead, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

“He’s, uh, he’s been assigned to watch over us. Like a contract worker for the police.”

Mom put a hand to her chest, her confusion turning into fear. “Are we in danger? Why would the police need to give us protection? Is this about your attack last week?”

Shit.

“Umm, no, it’s not like that,” I explained. “Not really. They, uh, they think that the guy who attacked me might be stealing from a bunch of people, and he may be from our area. He’s hereto… to, uh, well, I have contacts with the police department,” I added, quickly forming a new story. “I heard about them wanting to search the area, and I offered our apartment for him to use for a sort of stakeout.”

“A stakeout?” Mom asked. She wasn’t buying it.

Gael came down the hall. “What are you guys doing? Why are you whispering?”

“No reason, sweetie,” Mom said.

“Trust me, Mom, it’s all going to be fine. No big deal,” I said.

She looked at me again, and I could see a million questions in her eyes. Over the years, with all we’d been through, Mom had begun to look at me more like a teammate than a daughter. Her respect for me and the way we helped each other had created a special bond that went beyond mother and daughter. Regardless of the mistakes she’d made in her love life, she’d still fought and scraped to give Gael and me everything she could. I’d done the same for her.

That mutual respect seemed to come into play here. Rather than pestering me, she sighed. “All right, then. I just wish you’d told me earlier.” She glared at me and gestured down the hall toward the bathroom. “It would have been nice to have a little warning that some strange man is going to be sleeping in my home.”

“Sorry,” I said as relief coursed through me. “I should have called, but it all happened really fast.”

Nudging her, I led Mom back to the living room. Gael begrudgingly returned to the kitchen table and his homework.

“Why are you home this early, anyway?” I asked as we stepped into the kitchen.

Mom let out a derisive snort. “For the first time in months, the hospital was overstaffed. So of course, they sent me home early.” She scowled as she began to dig groceries from the bag on the counter. “That asshole department head is always lookingat me when he needs to cut hours.Send the Hispanic lady home,” she mimicked in a bitter tone.“She probably can’t even count how many hours she’s worked. I’ve got his number.Puta Madre.”

“Language,” I hissed under my breath, glancing at Gael. He snickered.

“Sorry,” she grumbled. “Anyway, I stopped at the market to grab a few things for dinner. I’m makingpaella.”

She turned, holding up a fresh bag of rice to show me. Before she even finished turning, she let out a yelp of surprise and dropped the bag. It hit the floor and exploded, sending grains of rice flying.

“Mom, shit, what are you doing?” I demanded.

She didn’t answer, so I looked at her. She was staring behind me, her mouth open in shock. Turning, I discovered what had startled her. Nate stood at the end of the hall. All he wore were his jeans. His chest and arms were still bare, muscles rippling as he dried his hair with a towel.

Nate flashed my mother an apologetic smile. “Sorry for scaring you, Mrs. Torres.Por favor, perdoname.”

Mom blinked in surprise, as did I. It hadn’t occurred to me that Nate might know Spanish.

The sound of Spanish words coming from the mouth of a gorgeous man in her kitchen somehow put Mom at ease.

“Habla Español?” she asked with a smile.

Nate grinned and held up his finger and thumb about an inch apart. “Un poco. I’m sure you can tell by my atrocious accent that I’m not fluent.” He shrugged and slung the towel over his shoulder. “I travel a lot and picked up a few things here and there.”

Mom’s face broke into a real smile, and I spotted the wonder in her eyes. “A traveler? Oh, goodness. That sounds exciting. Where have you been? Ilovetraveling.”

Nate walked over and leaned on the counter. “Lots of places. I spent some time in Durango, Reynosa, and even Acapulco in Mexico.”

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