Page 61 of The Hate We Breathe
“We’ll go,” he says smoothly, though his voice vibrates with barely leashed rage. He turns his gaze toward Lex—Lex still holding me up, keeping me caged in his arms as though he’d slit every throat in this room before letting me slip an inch away. “But this isn’t over.”
His finger rises, a deliberate point at us. “Tell my son…” His smile is pure venom. “Tell him he’s got a target on his back now. You all do.”
The threat hangs, acidic, coating the air. My heart lurches against my ribs, a drunken hiccup rattling out of me at the worst possible moment. Lex tightens his grip, dragging me closer, his body shaking with barely suppressed violence.
I don’t know whether it’s the mezcal or the madness, but all I can think, pressed to Lex’s chest as Darrio walks free, two of his men hurrying back to retrieve their fallen comrade and drag him out, is that something has changed tonight.
A war between the Scorpion Kings and the Vargas Syndicate is no longer a potential threat, but an undeniable reality.
23
LEX
“Yes, Nolan. She’s fine.”
“I want to talk to her.” His voice is a low rumble through the receiver, full of barely repressed anger. “Put her on.” He’s just as pissed that Darrio got so close to her as I am. The only difference is that it’s my own damn fault.
My eyes drag to the bed. Juliet is sprawled across my sheets, clutching my pillow like it belongs to her, lips curved in the faintest smile as she breathes deep, even, and unguarded. Drunk, pliant, soft. The kind of soft that makes me ache to tear every piece of her apart just to put her back together again—my way.
She’s irresistible on the best of days, but when she’s tipsy and cuddly, it’s worse. My cock is still sore from how hard it had been pressing against my fly as I’d driven us home from the club. Perhaps it makes me a pervert, but one way I’d wanted to assure myself that she was truly okay was to spread her out beneath me and fuck her until she screamed around my cock.
I wonder when was the last time she was this drunk—when she felt safe enough to get drunk. Not that she got drunk tonight because she felt safe. No, that had been because of Darriofucking Vargas. The thought of his hands, his eyes anywhere near her, makes my grip on the phone turn white-knuckled.
My response comes out sharp and clipped. “She’s asleep. You’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
Nolan’s low snarl hums through the line, low and vicious. I can almost see him pacing—chest heaving, jaw locked—as he attempts to work out some of the anxiety and anger flooding through him.
“You’re sure she’s all right?” he demands, sounding a bit frenzied. “She doesn’t need a hospital?”
My laugh is hollow, humorless. It’s also quiet in deference to the sleeping woman only a few feet away. My gaze flicks to her, and the organ inside of my rib cage tightens at the sight of her. At least that god-awful hiccuping finally went away.
“I don’t trust anyone in this fucking town to touch her,” I tell him. “Except Eliza, maybe. And your mom’s already suspicious enough of what we’re doing.”
He hesitates. “If I need to ask her to come out?—”
“I’ll call if she needs anything.” My tone leaves no room for argument. I move closer, letting my free hand brush her hair off her face. She exhales softly into the pillow she has clutched to her chest and face. My pillow. My bed. My girl. Every fucking piece of her is mine, whether she knows it yet or not.
“Where were you when Darrio came into the club?” There it is. The question I know he’s been wanting to ask since I called to tell him what went down.
Slowly, I edge away from my Sleeping Beauty and out into the hall. I leave the door to my bedroom cracked and turn towards the living room.
“Talking with the hacker that sent the videos,” I say.
“And?” Nolan presses. “Do we know anything about them? Can they be trusted?”
As far as I’m concerned, no one but Gio, Nolan, and Juliet can be trusted, but that’s not truly what he’s asking for. Nolan wants to know if we can use them and if we can get anything on them to ensure they don’t stab us in the back later.
“No idea of their identity yet,” I tell him honestly. “They used a voice modulator. Could be male or female.”
“Damn it.”
I hadn’t meant for the call to last as long as it had, but the information was too important to ignore. “They confirmed the date of those videos, though,” I continue. “Denise Donovan was alive as of eight weeks ago.”
“Any chance she still could be?” Nolan asks.
“There’s always a chance.” Silence stretches between us for a brief interlude and I debate going back into the bedroom just to watch Juliet sleep.
“All right,” Nolan finally replies. “Keep us updated on anything else they uncover for you. I’ve called Abel and asked him about the hacker he’s connected to. He has them working on this too. I just wish Allen Donovan had given you something more.”
