Page 90 of The Slayer
She let Chuito hold her instead.
It felt too good not to.
She closed her eyes, once again just feeling the moment for as long as she could until sleep claimed her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chuito sat on the edge of his bed, still naked, looking at the shades of gray staining the sky through the window. The clock on the nightstand said it was past four in the morning. For a moment he remembered being young and wild, looking at the sky when it was like this, just on the verge of being dangerous.
The night hid sins.
The morning exposed regret.
Like he had when he was younger, he tried to will the sun to stay down, to give him more time, but it always rose. Then he would crawl into bed and try to hide from it in sleep.
Until sleep became his enemy too.
He couldn’t hide from his crimes. They always found him, no matter how tightly he closed his blinds against the sunshine.
“Chu?”
He flinched, having thought she was still asleep.
“Yeah?” he asked without turning to her.
“Are you okay?”
“You never ate dinner,” he mumbled almost to himself. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Alaine rolled up to him and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Are you going to sleep?”
He shook his head. “That’d probably be a bad idea. You go back to sleep. I just want to sit here for a while.”
“Is this about Miami?” she asked softly. “You can talk to me about it.”
He shook his head again rather than respond.
“Please talk to me,” she urged, her fingers on his stomach gentle as she caressed him, running them over his Slayer tattoo as if she knew it on touch alone. “Maybe I can help.”
“I don’t think you can help, mami.”
“But do you think you owe me an explanation, or were you planning on leaving without telling me anything?”
He arched an eyebrow at that. “Is that what Tino told you?”
“Yeah.”
Chuito sighed. “He thinks he’s helping. I should beat him anyway.”
She moved her hand down to his hip and traced her fingers over the O in his Omertá tattoo. “I didn’t know you had this one.”
“It’s new,” he admitted.
“It’s like Tino’s.”
“Yup,” he agreed.
“What does it mean?” she asked slowly, as if she had an idea already.
