Another shudder went through Catarina’s body. He glanced down at her. Her face was utterly still. Frozen. She never once raised her eyes toward the three men. She looked almost as if she was in shock.
“Kitten?” He used a soft, gentle voice. Inquiring. She didn’t blink. Didn’t look at him. “Are you all right?”
She was terrified, and it had something to do with seeing Elijah Lospostos. Clearly she believed he was a friend of Cordeau’s.
“Baby, I’m telling you, Elijah is clean.”
“Not clean,” Elijah denied. His voice held the ring of truth. “I’m a Lospostos. My family goes way back in the crime industry. I’ve worked hard to get out, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have to do a few things that were illegal along the way. Cordeau was in bed with my uncle. My uncle killed my father. I’m no friend of Cordeau’s. You have nothing to fear from me, Catarina.”
Eli liked the way she was tight against him, almost under his shoulder, burrowing close, seeking his protection, but he didn’t like her being afraid. There was no way to salvage the situation, not there with Elijah so close.
“You were, what, fifteen? Sixteen? You fixed the meal that night. It blew my uncle away that you cooked for us all yourself. He asked to meet you. That was unusual, wasn’t it?” Elijah persisted. “It was unusual and it scared you.”
For a long moment, Eli didn’t think Catarina would answer.
“He wanted to scare me. Your uncle. He wanted Rafe to know he knew who I was.” She spoke in a low tone.
Eli frowned. Catarina had grown up in Rafe Cordeau’s home. It stood to reason he’d kept her away from his business. No one really thought, even if they could get her to do it, that she could testify about anything other than April Harp’s murder. Rumor had it Catarina had been there. Something in the way she revealed that she knew Elijah’s uncle’s motivation in asking to meet her made Eli rethink his position on Catarina inside that household.
She’d taught herself to read. She’d learned how to make coffee. Not just make coffee, but became a leading barista, someone who was great at what she did. She was quiet, and she downplayed her looks. She listened. Really listened when others were talking. She looked so young. She’d learned to play to that too. Only when her body betrayed her with its lush curves was it necessary for her to run.
He swore under his breath. He’d been such a fool. They all had. Sweet little Catarina Benoit was not just sweet, fragile and uneducated, she was extremely intelligent. Off the charts intelligent. She probably knew more about Cordeau’s business than Cordeau. She’d been there, a fixture in his household, one he intended to keep, a beautiful trophy he intended to mold into his likeness.
Catarina had been Cordeau’s chosen mate. She’d been a sponge in Cordeau’s house, soaking up everything she heard, learning as much as she could. She’d learned sex education by listening to two of Cordeau’s crew’s girlfriends talking. If there’d been a wall close Eli would have been tempted to smash his head on it. He’d been so obtuse, buying into the image she projected.
He tightened his arm around her, not knowing whether he wanted to shake her, or kiss her. She was damned brilliant. But if he was right and Catarina did know everything there was to know about Cordeau’s business, that meant she knew everyone he was in bed with. His partners wouldn’t like that. They wouldn’t want anyone running around loose out of their control.
Eli understood the million-dollar price tag. This wasn’t all about getting Catarina back, it was also about protecting her. She wasn’t where Cordeau could keep her from his partners and he was letting them know she was still under his shield.
Elijah nodded his head. “Yes, my uncle needed some kind of leverage against Cordeau. Cordeau didn’t have any weaknesses.”
“With the exception of Catarina,” Eli said. “She was the one thing that made him vulnerable in a world of other sharks.”
Beside him she stirred, tension coiling even tighter. He kept his eyes on her but she didn’t look up at him, she was looking at Elijah.
“He made it clear that day I wasn’t anything to him.”
Eli’s belly knotted. Was there hurt in her voice? Of course there was. She’d been a child and back then, she had no one else but Cordeau. If he’d shown in front of company she was nothing to him, she would always feel like nothing.
“He did,” Elijah said.
“How?” Eli asked.
She flinched. Hard. For the first time she tried to pull away from him. His fingers dug into her waist, holding her still, holding her to him. Her hand slid over his, fingers trying to remove the vise-like grip he had on her.