Page 78 of Her Wicked Hero

“Dinner and a story, I’m one lucky girl.”

“You might not think so at the end. I’m going to be looking for advice,” Zed warned as he pulled a beer out of the fridge and went back to slicing bell peppers, zucchinis, and onions. He’d already left a glass of wine for her on the kitchen counter.

“Women love giving advice,” Marcia assured him as she took a sip of the Syrah.

She saw him hesitate.

“Zed, just because you ask for advice and I give it, never means I’m going to be upset if you don’t take the advice. As a matter of fact, think of it more as if we’re talking things over.”

She saw his shoulders relax.

“Hunter Diaz is my half-brother, but short of DNA testing, I have no way of proving it.” He looked up from his slicing to see how she was taking the news.

“Then how do you know?”

“You. You coming into my life confirmed it.”

Marcia was just about to put the wineglass to her lips, when she set it back down and stared at Zed.

“I think I need some of that story time now. I’m totally confused. How do I have anything to do with Hunter being your brother?”

“Marcia, I’ve trusted many of my gut instincts. I know I’m luckier than most men, and my team puts it down to my intuition which I know I get from Abuelita. But it’s been nothing like the day I saw your photo in that mission file. This wasn’t a matter of me falling in love with a picture, I saw your photo and recognized my soul mate.”

Marcia’s world stopped. Zed had put down the knife and was looking at her.

“You did?” she queried softly.

“Yes.”

Marcia tried to think of some quip she could make, something to lighten the mood. She stared at her man, helplessly. Life with this man just continued to get more amazing. She bowed her head, trying to keep things together, then she looked up at him questioningly.

“I don’t understand how this relates to Hunter.”

“I always believed Hunter was my brother, but I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust in my grandmother’s gift until now.”

“I know you said you mentored him out of the gang life in East LA, but are you saying it was because you believed him to be your brother?” she asked gently.

“Mentored,” Zed laughed derisively. “I used that word, didn’t I?”

Marcia nodded.

“Ready for your story?” He threw the vegetables in the frying pan with the steak strips.

“Let me set the table,” she said as she grabbed utensils.

Quietly, they got the meal put together, then sat down at the table.

“I’m ready,” she said after her third bite.

“Two years after my abuela kicked my mom out of the apartment, she died. There was a funeral, and this woman and child showed up. I was only eight, but even I realized she wasn’t clean and neither was the baby.”

Marcia winced. It must have been bad for a kid to have noticed.

“The woman came up and asked about some man named Carlos I had heard mom and grandma whisper about in the past. That’s who this woman was looking for. Before she could say too much in front of me, my grandmother had Mr. Fuentes take me to our car.”

Zed stopped eating. “Grandmother gave her money, but it wasn’t enough. I asked Abuelita in the car ride home who they were, and she said nobody.”

Marcia winced.