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“What kind of bodyguard are you if you wouldn’t kill someone for me?”
“That’s different. I couldn’t just chain someone up and torture them.” He shakes his head, and my mind drifts to a basement, to a chained man, and me…with a gun in my hand and Rafael at my back.
“If someone wrongs you badly enough you can,” I say quietly.
“And what if they haven’t wronged you?”
“In this world, everyone is a bad guy, Lucas. They’ve all got something to atone for.”
“Even Rafael?”
I inhale a deep breath and reluctantly meet his gaze. “Yes.” Especially Rafael. But in my mind, he already atoned for anything he’d done when he saved me.
“Even me?”
“No, of course not.”
He taps his finger over the side of the coffee mug on the table in front of him. “It’s not our place to be judge, jury, and executioner.”
I look at him, really look. His dark hair falls over his forehead, and chocolate eyes lock with mine, full of a kind of innocence I can barely remember ever possessing. I always thought that Lucas and I were similar; lambs living in the den of wolves, but the truth is, I’m far closer to being like Rafael and Carlos than I would ever dare to admit. Rafael once said that I was the angriest person he’d ever met. Maybe that’s true because when I think of that chained man in that basement, all I feel is anger. All I want to do is go back and shoot him again. When I think of his lifeless body with that neat little bullet hole between his eyes, I feel nothing.
I look down at the paper, at the images plastered across the page. Maybe I should be disgusted, but I’m not. When you’ve watched bad men rape and kill innocent girls, seeing them kill each other is of little consequence.
I know this was Rafael, and if I didn’t before, then Carlos’ behavior confirmed it. “It’s business, Lucas.” He watches me for a second as though he’s not really sure who I am. “Trust me, there are worse travesties in this world than cartel members being strung up.”
He drops his gaze to the table quickly. “Of course. You’re right.”
I don’t have the time or inclination for any kind of pity. “Where’s Rafael?”
“Office, I think.”
“Thanks.”
I get up and head toward the office, but I catch sight of Samuel walking through the front door. The door closes behind him, and I hurry over and glance through one of the windows, watching him walk through the gardens. Where is he going?
Slipping through the front door, I ignore the guards posted there, hoping they don’t try and stop me. They don’t. I jog through the gardens until I catch sight of Samuel walking into a small outbuilding. It’s nestled against the surrounding property wall and is barely visible beneath all the vines that have grown up the walls and over the roof.
What is Samuel doing in a shed?On a whim, I follow him, stepping up to the front door and pressing my ear to the heavy wood. I can’t hear anything. Do I knock? Do I just walk in? Lifting my hand, I knock on the door. A few seconds later it opens, and I’m staring down the barrel of a gun, attached to Samuel’s hand.
I lift a brow. “Really?”
He releases a long breath and tucks the gun into the back of his pants. “What the fuck are you doing out here?”
“Following you.” He raises both brows, and I roll my eyes. “I’m looking for Rafe. Obviously.”
“Let her in, Sam,” Rafael’s deep, distinctive voice comes from within the shed.
Samuel hesitates for a moment before reluctantly opening the door wider. The second I step into the dingy building, the scent of mildew and the coppery tang of blood assaults me. The door slams shut behind me, and I shiver at the sudden lack of warmth. My eyes adjust to the dim light, and I see Rafael standing in the shadows of the far wall. He’s shirtless, his thick arms folded over his chest. Streaks of blood taint the black ink of his tattoos in large smudges. A low groan has me tearing my attention from Rafael to the man in the middle of the room. He’s on his side in the fetal position, blood pooling beneath him. I can feel Rafael’s eyes on me. The room is so small that it’s difficult to move around the guy, so I step over his legs, avoiding any blood. Rafael’s lips twitch in the shadow of a smile as I go to him.
“Avecita,” he practically purrs, his eyes sweeping the length of my body.
I place a hand against his bare stomach, feeling the burning heat of his skin against my palm. “I need to talk to you.”
“Can it wait?” I can see the bloodlust in his eyes—the beast is unleashed. It should probably scare me, but in a way, I identify with it.
I glance over my shoulder at the bloodied man and Samuel leaning against the door. “Well, I didn’t come into your little death hut to discuss the weather.”
“Okay, then talk.” He reaches out, almost absentmindedly and wraps a strand of my hair around his bloodstained finger.
