Page 123 of Possession

I shouldn’t care what anyone thinks of me. Not after what I’ve been through. Hell, Brax has seen me a million times worse and never blinked an eye.

I dump my purse on the counter and flip on the cold water. I’m not in a hurry anymore. I need a moment to myself. Just a second to process everything.

I rummage through my things until I find a comb and drag it through my hair before pulling it back into a clean pony. Then I cup the water in my hands and press it to my face over and over. The icy water is a balm to my swollen eyes. I do everything I can to wash away my day-old makeup.

When I stand to dry my face, I scream and spin on my heel.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Micah is leaning against a stall, staring at me, arms crossed, and hemorrhaging irritation. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to escape through the air vent.”

Water drips from my face so I turn back to the sink and reach for a paper towel. “Do I look like someone who’s going to crawl through an air vent?”

“That’s the thing … I don’t know one fucking thing about you other than my partner is willing to put his life in the hands of a mobster’s daughter. He trusts very few people, but I’m one of them. That makes it my job to make sure he’s thinking with his brain and not his dick.”

The paper towel is like cardboard when I drag it across the delicate skin under my eyes to rub away my stubborn mascara that’s making me look like a racoon. “That seems like a question for your partner. I’m obviously not a good judge of character since I thought he was a drug dealer only a few hours ago.”

Micah continues to jump subjects on a whim. “That man cares more about his family than anyone I know. I’m not going to allow anyone—especially you—to get in the way of him finishing what he set out to do. He’s lost too much time and given too much of himself. You don’t know shit about him.”

I toss my paper towel into the trash and turn to lean my ass on the counter. I glare at the man who’s interrogating me in the ladies’ room. “You’re right—you don’t know me. I haven’t been a willing participant in any of this since I was thrown at the cartel and an undercover agent. And ever since your partner told me the truth after we got here, I’m more confused than ever.”

“Which confirms that you know nothing about him,” he spouts and shakes his head. “I’m here to warn you that Braxton Cruz has one goal, and it has nothing to do with you. When I walked into that hotel room tonight, I could tell he was distracted, and I don’t like it. My only goal is to make sure he’s alive at the end of this operation.”

“Are you implying I might want the opposite of that? If you have something to say to me, just say it.”

“I’m saying Brax trusting in you is a bad idea.”

I try my best to keep my tone even, but it’s hard. The last time I was alone with a man who hated me was Nic. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“You’re right. And neither does Brax—”

“He does,” I interrupt. “He knows me, maybe better than anyone ever has. He’s the only reason I’m in one piece right now.”

Micah drops his arms and lowers his voice. “Don’t forget that. If he gets hurt because of you, I’ll come after you myself.”

I grab my purse and violently yank it up my shoulder. But before I leave, I take a step closer. I’m so pissed, my voice isn’t shaky any longer. It’s incensed. “You have no idea what’s gone on between Brax and me. I don’t give a shit who you are—I don’t need your permission or your acceptance or your blessing to be whatever I want to him. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone but my husband.”

His expression goes from angry to shocked to almost amused. “Your husband?”

“Yes,” I bite. “My husband.”

He huffs one laugh as he rocks back on his heels as a smirk creeps over his face that doesn’t have anything to do with humor. “You didn’t marry Braxton Cruz, Alba. You married a man who doesn’t exist.”

My heart clinches.

Right before my stomach drops.

Holy shit.

“But…”

Micah hikes a brow. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’re into him as much as he’s pussy whipped for you.”

I can’t listen to this. I need to get out of here.

I turn and yank the bathroom door open.

“Where are you going?” he calls for me.

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