Page 31 of Daddy's Little Spy

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The second the door shut behind Benito, Amara pulled a bottle of champagne from a gigantic overnight bag and grinned. “I thought you might need this today.”

“How do I know you haven’t drugged it or something?” Knowing Amara had been in on the plan from the beginning hurt almost as much — maybe more, if she was being honest — than Benito’s betrayal.

A flicker of pain flashed in Amara’s eyes before they were the cool, clear blue Diana was used to. “All right. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room, then.”

The sound of the cork popping in the dead silence that fell around them was as loud as a gunshot, but neither woman flinched. Amara poured each of them a glass, taking a deliberate sip of her own before handing Diana her own flute.

Satisfied it hadn’t been drugged, Diana downed the contents and held her glass out for a refill. With a twitch of her lips but no commentary, Amara obligingly filled the flute again nearly to the top.

“I suppose I should start with an apology,” Amara said, her voice so flat she might as well have been talking about the weather. “It seems like the appropriate thing to do in such a situation.”

“I suppose you should,” Diana shot back, unable to match her own tone to Amara’s. The hurt was too fresh, too real, for her to hide it.

“Well, then, I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

Narrowing her eyes at the woman she’d once almost considered a friend, Diana took another deep pull of her champagne. “That’s not the same as being sorry for setting me up.”

Amara lifted an elegant shoulder. “I won’t apologize for protecting my family. I know you disapprove of how we make our money, but the fact is, every single man, woman, and child in this organization is my responsibility. My family. Mine and Emilio’s, and Benny’s for that matter. I can’t, and won’t, apologize for ensuring their safety and well-being, even at the expense of a friend.”

“We were never friends, Amara. I was just someone you used, a pawn in some sick, twisted game.” And at the core, that was the source of this well of bitterness inside of her. Some shameful, hidden part of her had apparently been so starved for friendship and affection, she’d let herself believe these people had actually cared for her. She’d been willfully blind, and unforgivably stupid.

“And I wasn’t?” A single, perfectly arched eyebrow rose in challenge. “I wasn’t just a way for you to snoop around, a means to an end for your little investigation? You pretended to be my friend, to enjoy my company, all while you were plotting how to have me locked away.”

Guilt wrapped its slimy tendrils around her stomach and squeezed. “You’re right. And while there is a part of me that wants to say I would do things differently if I had to do it over, I don’t know that I would. I believe in law and order, Amara. I believe in the things you all snub your noses at.”

They sat in silence, gazes locked in an unblinking battle of wills before Amara sighed and took another sip of her champagne. “I won’t argue we’re saints. God knows I’ve done some awful things myself, things I wish to God I could undo. But we have our own code, Diana. And I dare say there are times we’ve done more good than the entire Baltimore Police Department.”

“How do you figure?”

“Since our wedding, Emilio and I have systematically dismantled a sex-trafficking ring being run right under your nose.” She paused, the muscles of her throat working as though she was forcing the words out of her. “My uncle Gio was the head of the ring.”

Some of the pieces she hadn’t been able to make fit fell into place. “Did you kill him?”

Those ice-blue eyes clouded briefly. “Yes. And then I tore his operation apart, piece by piece. Emilio and I have taken out at least three other families who were involved in the six months we’ve been married. From the outside, I’m sure it looked like greed, but there are some things even we won’t stand for.”

“Not selling women and children into slavery doesn’t make you a hero, Amara.” But damn if it didn’t burn her ass a bit, knowing all of this had been going on without the knowledge of the BPD. Or worse, with their cooperation.

“No, it doesn’t. And it doesn’t begin to atone for my sins. But that’s between me and my maker, I suppose.” Cocking her head to the side, Amara studied her with a look that seemed to see far too much. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because in your eyes, we will always be evil.”

“Evil may be a bit much. But we have laws for a reason.”

“Legality and morality don’t always go hand in hand. In fact, I’ve found that more often than not, they seem diametrically opposed. Destroying families because the father likes to smoke a little weed on the weekends. Allowing corporations to ruin our planet, our economy, all because they know the right people, grease the right palms. The system is broken, Diana. And as long as the system remains broken, there will always be people, like myself, who operate outside of it.”

“Jesus Christ.” Draining the glass, she slammed it down on the desktop beside her and pushed to her feet, pacing back and forth in the suddenly crowded space. “I get that. You think I don’t know the system is broken? But you’re not a fucking martyr here, Amara. You trade in weapons and drugs. And not just a little weed for that weekend stoner, either. You’re not some hippie out trying to save the world. Don’t sit here and lecture me about the evils of the system when you’re no fucking better.”

“Maybe I’m not. But those laws you’re so fond of? The system you so proudly serve? It’s done far more harm than I could ever dream of doing. So climb down off that high horse before you break your fool neck and let me do your hair. We have a wedding to get to.”

The sudden change in topic nearly gave Diana whiplash. “You still want to help me get ready?”

“Of course.” Looking exasperated, Amara gestured to the chair Diana had recently vacated. “We will probably never see eye to eye on certain things. But we are about to be family. And despite myself, I’ve grown rather fond of you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You’re the closest thing to a friend I think I’ve ever had, and I’d hate to lose that over a little spat.”

“Little spat” seemed like a vast understatement for two people on such opposite sides of the law, but Diana was just as reluctant to terminate their odd friendship as Amara apparently was. “I don’t suppose our truce extends to helping me run away.”

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