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His eyes have a faraway look, and I have no doubt he lives with demons of his own.
“You would never turn your fists on a woman you’re supposed to love and protect.”
“But I’ve wanted to,” he whispers. “More than once. But no. I wouldn’t. And neither would you.”
He’s so sure of his self-control. So sure of mine. But he doesn’t know what I feel inside. Fear, anxiety…it goes by many names, but its face is always—always—rage. I often mask it with humor or an outward sense of calm. But it’s rage—not just simple anger. Rage.
I don’t have confidence in my ability to keep it contained over the long haul—not with someone like Lexie, who pushes all my buttons.
“I can talk to you until kingdom come, but it won’t do any good. I couldn’t see the truth until Daniela forced me to confront the demons and promised that she would stand between them and my better angels.”
“I don’t understand the point you’re trying to make. It makes absolutely no sense.”
“And it never will, coming from me. Only Lexie can give you the assurances you need.”
More gibberish.
Next time I need a gut check, I’ll check my own fucking gut.
32
LEXIE
Tamar has me working on a gnarled mess of facts, but I’m pulling every thread carefully, like my life depends on it—and it might. Even if it doesn’t, someone’s life does.
“Hey,” Rafael says, strolling into the office with two days’ worth of scruff on his jaw.
Facial hair is such a good look on him that I’m thinking about hiding his razors.
“Where’s Tamar?” he asks.
“Valentina needed her to get a layout of the hotel in Boston where everyone’s staying during the launch. Zé needed something too.” I lift a shoulder. “She should be back in about an hour.”
He pushes aside a folder and parks his gorgeous ass on the edge of my desk. It’s a welcome interruption. “What are you working on?”
“I’m trying to find any and all connections between the victims. Things I might have originally missed.” Using a small remote, I put the chart up on the wall screen. “Low income, middle income, upper income, and obscenely wealthy. The middle-income group has the broadest range. Most of the women who were abducted are from that group. At least the ones we know about.” I’m not sure we’ll ever know the name of every woman they abducted. It’s heartbreaking.
He studies the chart. “There might be women unaccounted for in the low-income group.”
“That’s always the way it is. I don’t know why it would be any different here. Plus, they started with women from poorer families. Who knows how many went missing before someone caught on. The highest income group has the fewest victims. But from what we know, they were just getting started there.”
“They were practicing up until then.” His response exudes confidence, like he knows something that I don’t.
“Could be. What makes you so sure?”
He gazes at me, his features softening. “Bruno Russo brought down the ring.”
The blood whooshes in my ears, and I feel almost light-headed. “He brought down the ring?” My brain is processing in slow motion. “Really?”
He nods, a small smile playing on his lips.
When it finally registers—fully registers—I leap up and fling myself at him. Rafael catches me in his strong arms and holds me against his chest. The heat of his body adds to the surge of euphoria.
After a few moments, I pull away, reluctantly. “Are you sure? Absolutely sure?”
“I didn’t see the evidence for myself, but I had a long talk with Russo, and I ran our conversation by Antonio, after. I have no reason to doubt the prime minister’s word.”
There’s something about the way he’s qualifying everything that’s unsettling. I didn’t see the evidence for myself. I have no reason to doubt his word. It’s almost as though he’s hedging. “I feel a but coming on.”
