Page 40 of Altered By Lead (Undercover Sinners 2)
But has she noticed that I already care for her more than I did Portia? How could she, since I never show it, since I’ve never said it? I need to fix this. Soon.
"I get it," she says in a soft voice. "Portia was this incredible woman who you all loved, and now she’s gone and I'm here ..." She trails off with a shrug, but even from the corner of my eye I can see how tense she is.
I shake my head, frustrated that she misunderstood my point. "No. Portia was far from incredible. She was a fucked-up, selfish, narcissistic mess. But yeah, we all loved her." I shoot Talia a quick look and catch her lip between her teeth again. "You're not a replacement for her. You're ..." I break off, the words sticking in my throat. But she needs to hear this. I can see the insecurity painted all over her face every time I avoid her, or when Hawke pushes her too far, or when Arsen—that selfish prick—has just left her unsatisfied.
Wetting my lips, I push on. "You're so much more than Portia ever was." The words burn a path across my heart, and the truth of them leaves a permanent mark on my memory of Portia. "We loved her, all in our own way. But damn she was a train wreck. She wasn't strong. Not like you."
Natalia makes a small sound, and I clam up. I've said too much. She must think I'm some sort of creepy, fickle bastard, shitting all over Portia's memory like this. But it is what it is. Portia was right for us all at the time we knew her, but suffering her loss changed us. Bonded us. And meeting Natalia changed us even more. We aren't the same men we were with Portia, and I wouldn't go back there for anything.
"Just be patient with us," I say quietly, not looking at her but acutely aware of her stare. "Please."
At my plea, she shifts her body away, staring out the window as I navigate the road. Neither one of us speaks again until I pull into the main street of Ashland. I could have taken her to Medford, it was closer, but it's also a shithole. At least Ashland has some fancy boutiques and crap. Girly shit that Talia might appreciate.
I park, but before getting out she lays a hand on my arm. That touch, that very deliberate act of her hand on my arm, makes me startle and my gaze flies up to meet hers.
"Let's be clear about something," she says, her tone firm but her eyes soft. "Hawke can go fuck himself. But you … yeah, I guess I can be a little more patient with you, Mace-y."
Her impish smile with that annoyingly amazing nickname gives me all the fucking gushy feels, and my dick twitches in my pants. Like he just got given hope.
"Mm," I reply succinctly, reverting back to my usual stance of as few words as possible.
I don't even feel the slightest twinge of guilt as we exit the Hummer and she falls into step beside me. I barely even spare the other guys a thought when she slips her little hand into my huge, scarred paw.
Fuck them all. They made their own mess, they can damn well clean it up. All that matters now, is that Talia hasn't given up on me.
I still have a chance.Chapter 10NataliaI'm not an idiot. Despite what my actions of late say about me, I'm still not a fucking idiot. I know Mace is probably playing me, just as hard as Weston was. Actually ... more. At least West was upfront about what he wanted. Mace ... ugh.
Okay, so if I'm being totally honest with myself—not an exercise I practice very often—I can admit that of all of them, Mace hurt me the most. Because I'd developed damn near real feelings for him and then all of a sudden ... ice. I've had nothing but ice and avoidance from him for the better part of two months and goddamn it all, I missed the big asshole.
So yeah, I'm being an idiot, taking his vague explanation and his nice words and letting them soften my anger towards him. I hold his hand and smile and just allow myself one too-short afternoon of fakery, pretending everything he'd said is genuine and we actually have a future together.
But deep down—or not even that deep—I know better. I know it's the bet ... because if it isn't, then why hasn't he told me about it?
"Do you need anything else while we're here?" His rumbling voice cuts through my melancholy musings, and I blink up at him. The sun is setting, and rose gold light creates a halo around his dark hair. Mace looks like some sort of avenging angel. All he needs to complete the look is a pair of wings and a huge ass sword.
