“Mine. Always mine,” I snapped.
He blew out a steady stream of air. “It’s in the Vargas Cartel’s best interest if she marries Evan. We need Hattie’s dad on our side. If an investigation lands on his desk, he has prosecutorial discretion not to pursue the matter.”
I flung my car door open and slid inside. “He won’t be attorney general forever. You’re going to need to find a more permanent way to secure your political legacy and keep your ass out of jail. One that doesn’t involve Hattie Covington.”
“Why the sudden interest in her? Why are you protecting her?”
Fuck. I had tipped my hand. Senator Deveron might be careless, but he wasn’t dumb. “Because the Vargas Cartel doesn’t hurt innocent women.” Unlike other cartels, the Vargas Cartel had a code of ethics. It didn’t hurt women. It didn’t kill innocent people. It didn’t assassinate people for money. It only killed people who deserved to die. Ignacio bent the rules with Hattie, but at the time, Ignacio was desperate to secure Rever’s release.
My message delivered, I disconnected the call. We didn’t have anything else to discuss, not right then. I wouldn’t fool myself. That wasn’t the end of Senator Deveron and his threats. He’d be back, but I’d be ready. If it meant I had to destroy his political career and sell his secrets to the highest bidder, I would.
Chapter Ten
Hattie
By six o’clock in the evening, I was officially a nervous wreck. I had plans to meet Ryker at a restaurant in a half hour. He wanted to pick me up, but I refused. I didn’t know if Vera would recognize him, but I refused to take the risk. Not yet anyway.
“I won’t be too late,” I said. I brushed my hands down the front of the form-fitting red dress I paired with nude-colored heels and a nude-colored purse.
Vera folded her arms across her chest. “Why isn’t your date picking you up here?”
I cracked the seal on the front door. “Because I didn’t want him to.” We’d already had a variation of this conversation three times in the last hour.
She rolled her eyes and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “So you keep telling me.” She leaned her back against the kitchen counter and took a sip of her wine. “But you still won’t tell my why.”
“It’s not important.”
Her lips pressed into a tight line as she looked between the door and me. “If you’re concerned…I mean, if you think I’ll judge you, you’re wrong.”
I glanced longingly at the traffic clogging the street. I wished I could slip out the door and end this conversation once and for all. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I would rather meet him at the restaurant. I don’t want him in this part of my life…yet.”
“But what if something happens?” she protested, shaking her head back and forth. “I won’t have any information.” Her voice wavered, and unshed tears glistened in the corners of her eyes.
My lungs constricted. I knew what she meant. I understood her concerns. I disappeared once. She hadn’t said as much, but she blamed herself. “I’ll be fine. I promise.” I sighed. “But just in case, I’m going to 902 Restaurant.”
She bowed her head. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I answered before I closed the door behind me. I lingered next to the front door for a moment before getting into the backseat of the cab waiting beside the curb.
Twenty minutes later, I walked into a small restaurant in the Cleveland Park area. Faint music hummed through the air. I scanned the room for Ryker. When my gaze landed on him, my breath caught in my throat, and my insides squeezed. Would I always react so forcefully to him?
My eyes singularly focused on him. I crossed the restaurant, my heels tapping on the hardwood floor. I paused when I reached the edge of his table. Ryker’s eyes swept over my body from head to toe and back up again. A languid shiver traveled down my spine, tap-dancing on each of my vertebrae.
He stood and brushed a kiss across my lips. “You look beautiful. Good enough to eat.”
I dipped my head, hiding a satisfied smile. This dress was way out of my comfort zone, but I mentally patted myself on the back for wearing it. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.” He wore a white collared shirt with a steely gray suit. The combination made his eyes look almost silver. “No black tonight?”
He chuckled, and his warm breath tickled the side of my face. “No.” He pulled out the chair directly across from him. “Please, sit.”
We settled into our seats. Almost immediately, I felt on edge. I didn’t know how to talk to Ryker in a normal setting. We’d been intimate. I killed a man for him. He killed three men for me, yet we didn’t know much about each other. I twisted my hands in my lap.
“Relax,” he said.
“I am relaxed.”
“You’re fidgeting.”
“Fine.” I place my hand on the edge of the table. “Is this better?”
He nodded. “Why are you nervous?”
I swallowed hard as I scanned the restaurant décor, purposely avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know what to talk about.”
“What do you want to know about me?” he countered.
“You’ll tell me anything?”
“Sure, I’ll tell you everything I can without endangering you.”
I rolled my eyes. “So how’d things go with Rever?”
His eyes narrowed briefly. “Rever? Why do you want to know about him?”
I shrugged. It seemed like a safe topic. “I don’t know. I guess I’m curious what happened when he got home.”
“Rever’s living with me.”
“Seriously? How’d that happen?”
“It’s a long story, but basically Ignacio cut him off, and I was his last and only option.”
Surprised, I raised my eyebrows. “How’s that going? I didn’t think you two were on the best terms.”
“We still aren’t. He wants my help with something.”
I shifted to the edge of my seat. “Do you mind if I ask what he wants?”
He sighed wearily. “He wants me to smuggle his girlfriend out of Mexico.”
“What?” I blurted out a little too loudly.
“She’s Juan Alvarez’s daughter.”
My mind scrambled to place the name. “Who’s that?”
“The head of the Alvarez Cartel.” He tugged on the cuffs of his shirt. “Things haven’t improved between the two cartels since you left.”
I nodded. I hadn’t kept up with current events since I came home. In fact, I refused to read a single article about Mexican drug cartels. After my stay at the Vargas compound in Mexico, the violence, death, and conflicts in the newspapers were all too real for my taste. “Are you going to do it?”
“Maybe,” he answered evasively. “How do you like living with Vera?” he asked, changing the direction of the conversation.
“It’s much better than living with Evan.”
He frowned. “What’d you tell her about us?”