Page 135 of Gabriel
Fuck, I’d recognize that voice anywhere. “What did you do to my sister, Jet?”
I heard his footsteps then, and judging by the shuffling, he took a seat. “I’m keeping her safe. She’s my concern now, not yours.”
I let out a sardonic breath. “Wrong, you fucker. She’s my concern and always will be. Is she here?”
“No.” A heartbeat passed before he continued, “I came to assure you she’s safe, that I’d never hurt her and… to apologize.”
A shock rolled through me. Jet and apology in the same sentence made up a perfect oxymoron.
“Kind of late for an apology, don’t you think?” I said with a sardonic breath.
He didn’t answer immediately, but when he did, it surprised me again.
“My mother taught me it’s never too late to apologize, but the key is to mean it.”
“Do you?” I questioned. “Mean it, that is.”
“I do.” Strangely, I believed him, and I hated it. I wanted to fucking murder him and then bring him back to life just to murder him again. “More than you’ll ever know.”
The anguish in his voice was hard to miss, but I suspected my hindered sight enhanced my other senses, spotting emotions being one of them.
“It doesn’t fix anything,” I gritted. “And if you were truly sorry, you’d bring my sister back.”
I felt him tense. “I’m sorry, Santos. I’ll do anything besides give her up.”
“Bringing her to see me isn’t exactly giving her up,” I stated, loosening the grip on the knife. He remained silent, and suspicion crept into my soul. “Unless she’s mad at you.” He didn’t answer, and I suspected I hit the nail on the head. “She is, isn’t she?”
“No.”
The single clenched word told me otherwise and I chuckled softly, ignoring the pain shooting through me.
“Oh, this is priceless.” The irony was hard to ignore and my chuckle grew into full-blown laughter. “And so damn worth this.”
“Maybe you lost your mind in the explosion too. Goddammit, Santos, you have to get better,” he rasped through gritted teeth.
“Oh, boy. I think you’re about to get the taste of sweet Anya’s Latina side, because it’s clear you’re clueless about who my sister is.”
Two quiet moments passed.
“I’ve never seen someone’s temper flare so fast,” he muttered under his breath, almost as if he were speaking to himself. However, it was all I needed to envision the situation.
“Bring her back home,” I said. “You went about this all wrong, and it’s time you admit it, Jet.”
“She’s my wife.” The cold tone crept through the room, and so did his stubbornness. “I’ll make all this right, and you… for fuck’s sake, Santos, you have to get your vision back. I threatened the doctors and…”
He trailed off, clearly despairing. It might have been wrong, but suddenly, I didn’t want my vision to return soon. I wanted this motherfucker to suffer, and he would. I knew my sister enough to know that when she reached a pissed-off point, there was no return from it.
I could practically envision her setting him on fire, throwing away the match, and walking away with a sweet, slightly crazy smile on her face. It might make me petty—fucking sue me—but I relished in it.
We sat there in silence, and I wasn’t exactly sure why he was here, but I suspected he was lost in his own thoughts.
“I am sorry,” he said, breaking the silence. “And not only because it backfired, but also because you got hurt. That was never the intent.”
“Apology not accepted.”
He let out a breath. “I figured, but Iamsorry and grateful that you protected Amara, which leads me to my next to-do item.”
“I don’t follow.”
