Page 70 of The Fixer

“Benjamin Bell,” I whispered, and Eliza’s hand stiffened beneath my own. “He was the first case Paulo asked me to take on by myself.”

“But…” I opened my eyes and found chocolate swirls watching me through narrowed slits. “You would have only been—”

“Sixteen.” I nodded. Winced at the feel of her skin against my cheek, then held her tighter against me when she tried to pull away. “He told me what Benjamin did and asked me to take the lead. And I did. And I…”

“What is it?” Eliza asked when I didn’t continue, when I got lost in my thoughts.

“I don’t regret it.”

A shaky smile tugged at her lips. She lifted her head from the mattress and pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I always suspected it was him. Paulo. I wanted to thank him, but I didn’t want to say anything in case I wasn’t right. But it looks like it’s to you I owe my thanks. For ridding the world of the man who killed my mother.”

“Eliza.”

“Hmm?”

“How are you so perfect?”

She tilted her head back as she laughed, leaving her narrow throat exposed. I leaned forward, laving my tongue across her soft flesh, and her laughter fell as she inhaled a sharp breath.

“Oh, goodness,” she whispered as I sucked at her skin, leaving a trail of pale red marks over her collarbone and across her breast. She moaned as I sucked her nipple into my mouth, her hand gripping the outside of my arm. “Oh please, don’t stop.”

I curled my hand around her hip and pulled her closer. I shifted my body until I was hovering over hers. Each breathy moan made my aching dick grow harder, and it took everything in me not to shove it in. She was in my head, in my soul, her scent coating my senses, her taste on my tongue. Never in my life had I wanted anyone like this, without regard to the world around me, with nothing on my mind but her.

But when she stiffened beneath me, I pulled back, certain I’d hurt her in a way I could never forgive myself. The girl’s eyes were huge, round disks. Her hands bit into the flesh on my arms. Then she whispered, “What was that?”

I stilled, listening. Then I heard it, too. A quiet rumble from out in the other room. In a second, I was off the bed, pulling on a pair of shorts. “Stay here,” I demanded as I pulled a gun from the top drawer of my dresser, and I didn’t glance back at her as I quickly opened the door.

There was a moment when Kosta’s voice was in my head, panic-laced as I imagined him staring down the barrel of a gun. The words were a jumble, but his intentions were clear: You have to save her, don’t let them take the girl.

Two men stood by the front door, heads lowered as they spoke with their backs to me. I raised my gun, rushing down the hallway, staring down the barrel as I readied to shoot.

But then I stopped as they both turned their attention to me.

“What the fucking fuck?” I demanded, throat tight as my body shook. “Do you have a fucking death wish?”

Zee raised his hands in front of him, though beside him, Mateo only raised a dark brow.

“You happy to see me?” he joked, a pointed glance down to my tented shorts. But when he glanced back up, his eyes went wide, focusing on something behind me. “Shit.” He drew the word out, giving it more than one syllable, and my jaw clenched as I closed my eyes.

Turning my head, I said, “I told you to stay in the room.”

18

Eliza

When I walked back into the living room, this time fully dressed, I found Mateo and Jet cooking an early lunch. Zee sat awkwardly at the counter, watching, and I shuffled over and sat on the chair by his side.

“How’s Santini?” I asked, feeling a rush of blood to my cheeks as I clenched my hands in my lap.

Zee threw a glance toward Jet, who had paused and looked up from the ball of dough he’d been shaping. Jet gave Zee a quick nod, then set the ball down on the plate on the counter and walked around to stand at my side.

“He may have a long road ahead of him, but he’s going to be okay,” Zee started, pausing as Jet pulled my back into him and wrapped his arms around my middle, nothing between us but the low back of the chair. “He was unconscious when the ambulance got there last night but was awake by the time he arrived at the hospital.”

Mateo snagged one of the balls off the plate and squashed it until it was flat. “So, he’s got a brain injury?”

Zee shifted, his hand rubbing at the space above his heart. “Mild to moderate traumatic brain injury. They’re keeping an eye on him in case there’s swelling. Depending on how that goes, he could be there a few days to a week.”

“Anything broken?” Jet asked.