Page 32 of Raphael (Belles & Mobsters 5)

I was a fool to think I’d be able to chase the cartel story and not cross paths with the notorious cartel member. The Santos Cartel ran the underworld of Florida with connections to South America. Specifically, Colombia since they originated there.

My heart sped up, more than was natural, thinking about the man with blue eyes. It had to be from fear. Yeah, definitely fear. That devil wasn’t my type at all.

The sounds of crickets and soft waves of Deep Creek filled the night, but unlike so many times before, I couldn’t find peace in those noises. My mind kept turning over every option and every possibility. And coming out empty.

Gabriel and I couldn’t stay in this cabin forever. The Ashfords would come through again. If I asked for help, they’d help. No questions. A simpleyesand they’d be on the move securing our safety.

But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I pulled them into this clusterfuck.

It was sort of bittersweet. They were more of a family than my own. They owed me and Gabriel absolutely nothing and yet they always came through. My own parents, on the other hand, never came through with anything but misery.

I should be used to it by now, but it still fucking hurt. It fucking hurt that they refused to acknowledge Gabriel. It hurt that they turned their back on us the moment he was born. To quote my dear mother, “Because he’s a disgrace.”

The same familiar rage flooded my insides. My mother was a disgrace. Both of my parents were. Not an innocent boy. And all because he wasn’t up to their fucked up standards.Don’t go there, Sailor.

For the tenth time tonight, I got out of the bed and padded across the hardwood floor of the cabin to Gabriel’s room. As soon as I entered it, the heavy pressure in my chest eased a bit and my lips curved into a smile.

It was that same soothing feeling I got as a little girl when I went to Anya’s room.

Despite the fucked up circumstances of how he came to be, Gabriel was the best thing that could have happened to me. He made me see how wrong certain things were. It was he who drove me every day to fight the battles and do the right thing.

I came up to his bed and brushed my fingers over his soft dark curls.

He was tall for a seven-year-old. His dark hair needed a trim. Except, I was bad with scissors and he hated anyone but Willow, Aurora, or I giving him a haircut. We spoiled him a bit, but he deserved it. Every fucking thing. And he would get it.

His foot dangled off the bed, the covers kicked off. That boy was always hot, no matter what time of year. And he clearly wasn’t afraid of the monsters that would snatch his foot dangling off the bed.

Unlike me.

I was afraid of darkness and monsters. Because those monsters came in all shapes and sizes. When you least expect it, they strike.

The door creaked and my little heart thundered, threatening to break my chest.

“Anya,” I cried, shaking her hand. “Wake up. I hear a monster.”

We were both heavy sleepers, but I was enroute to her room when I heard footsteps against the marble floors. I shook her hand again and she barely peeled her eyes open.

“Go to sleep, Sailor.”

Another creak.

“Monsters coming,” I whimpered and she shot up her bed. It was too late.

She pushed me off the bed, her eyes wide with fear. “Hide,” she mouthed.

Yes, the monsters were everywhere. Even among the upstanding citizens of our high society. Like our own father. I firmly shut the ghosts into a closet, unable to deal with them right now. Or maybe I was too afraid.

I’d bet my life that Raphael Santos wasn’t afraid. Of fucking anything. He instilled fear, not felt it. I envied him. At least in that regard.

I scoffed softly.

Now that was a first. Envying a mobster who would take my life in a heartbeat without hesitation. Especially after I kicked him in the balls. I’d have to tell that story to Royce one day. He’d be proud.

Although I hoped I hadn’t permanently hurt Raphael. After all, he did protect me during the attack and helped me out of that madhouse.

I’d forever remember that face.

It’d be impossible to forget that chiseled face with the most mesmerizing features. Full mouth, carved cheekbones, blue gaze that should terrify me, but from which I couldn’t tear my eyes from. And those tattoos. Jesus Christ!

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