Page 54 of Possessive Sinner
Audra closes her eyes briefly. "Mom, stop."
But Stacy doesn't. She leans forward instead, clutching the cat tighter. "What do you want from her?" she demands. "From us?"
There it is. The real question. I shift my gaze back to Audra.
"Right now? I want you alive." I hold Audra's gaze. Long enough that her breath catches just slightly.
The silence that follows is heavy and charged. Stacy scoffs, but there's less bite to it now.
"Why? Who are you? Why were you at the warehouse? Why did you save me? Bring us here? And who arethey?" Audra demands.
I don't answer right away. Not because I don't have them, but because I have too many, and none of the ones she's asking for are the ones I'm willing to give. Instead, I step closer. Not enough to crowd her. Just enough to remind her who controls this space.
"Theyare cartel," I offer that much, hoping it'll be enough to scare her off.
She narrows her eyes at me, waiting. With a sigh, I add, "They're not street thugs. Not idiots with guns and something to prove. They're organized. Patient. And when someone gets intheir way—" I let that hang for a second "—they don't stop at one body."
Her mother makes a small sound at that. Audra doesn't.
"They don't care about collateral," I continue. "Wives. Families. Anyone connected. If there's even a chance you know something…" I hold her gaze. "They eliminate the risk."
That lands. I see it in the slight shift of her shoulders. In the way her fingers curl into her palms. But there is still no panic. Just… calculation. Fuck. This woman is seriously impressing me… and making it harder than it should be to keep my hands off her.
"You're telling me they're going to come after us again?" she asks.
Notif.When."Yes."
I don't sugarcoat the words. I don't give her lies. Not only because I hope this will keep the other questions at bay—why were you there? What do you want from me?—but because she's not the type who would appreciate it. Not anymore. Or maybe she never was. Maybe that part of her has been lying dormant for years.
She exhales slowly before she nods. Like she's filing the information away. Adapting. And there it is again. That shift. Grief is turning into something sharper. Something colder. It shouldn't do anything to me. But it does. It tightens an emotion inside my chest I don't want to examine too closely.
"That still doesn't explain you," she hits right to the center.
Her eyes lock onto mine again. Relentless. Unyielding. "Why are you helping me?"
There it is. The question that matters. The one I can't answer. Not honestly. Not without breaking something I'm not ready to break yet. Silence stretches between us again. I let it. Let her sit in it. Let her feel it.
Stacy huffs. "Because men like him always want something."
"She's not wrong," I say.
Audra's brows pull together slightly. That caught her off guard. I take another step closer. Close enough now that I can see the faint tremor in her lower lip that she's fighting like hell to control. Close enough to smell that faint trace of her, something soft under the fear and stress. Dangerous.
"That's not an answer," she fires back.
My phone rings. I answer without looking at it first. Glad for the interruption. "Yes?"
"Explain to me," Massimo's voice cuts through the line, low and controlled, which is always worse than shouting, "why I have a very angry man named Javier Salazar calling me about dead members of Los Hijos del Desierto… with your name attached to them."
That's a fucking good question.
Audra, her mother, and now that damned cat too, are still watching me with suspicion written all over their faces.
"I'll be right back," I excuse myself.
It's not a request. Not an explanation. Just a statement. I step out onto the patio and close the door behind me. The city stretches out below, glittering, alive. Untouchable.
"Start talking," Massimo demands.
