Black Hearts (Sins Duet #1)

He seems to weigh that question. He walks down the steps until he’s right beside me and takes it from my fingers. “Sometimes,” he says, inhaling deep. Too deep. He coughs and hands it back to me. “I remember now why I don’t.”

I watch him carefully as I take another drag. Though there’s something very genial about him, when you look past the build and the tattoos, I think it would be wrong of me to underestimate him. There’s a flash of something in his eyes, a way that he moves that makes me think he’s a man with a lot of demons, and those kind of men are nothing if not unpredictable.

“You play any music, Vicente?” he asks me, eyes searching the street as if there’s something out there other than fog and darkness.

“No,” I tell him.

“Don’t have a musical family?”

“Not even the slightest. You?”

He nods and then grimaces. “Yes. No. I did. Used to have a band. But who didn’t? Growing up in California, especially in the Coachella Valley, it was practically a rite of passage.”

“That must have been a long time ago.”

His gaze focuses on me sharply. “It was,” he says, then relaxes. “Anyway, I jam now with some buddies that live in Twin Peaks. You know the area?”

“Just the TV show.” I notice him staring at the cigarette and hand it back to him, wondering where he’s going with all this. He doesn’t strike me as an idle chit-chat kind of man. “I’m still getting my bearings in this city.”

“And how long do you plan on staying here?” He takes another drag, the look in his eyes hardening.

Now I see.

“I don’t know,” I admit.

“Vicente, may I ask you a question?” He exhales slowly while waiting for my answer, the smoke blowing in my face. It’s hard to read if it’s intentional or not. From the way my hackles are rising, I’m going to assume it was.

“Sure.”

“What are your intentions with my daughter?”

I crack a smile. “Intentions? What is this, the 1950s?”

“Just answer the question.”

His voice isn’t so jovial anymore. I want to remind him that Violet isn’t a teenager and can make her own decisions, and their input into our relationship is nonexistent. But those demons of his are winking at me, daring me to slip up.

And he’s holding on to my cigarette like a hostage.

“My intentions for Violet are pretty much what you would expect. I like her a great deal and wish to keep seeing her.”

“And then what? Why are you here?”

“Why am I here?”

“I’ve seen your type before, you know.”

I squint at him, my voice growing rough. “My type? Do you mean Mexican?”

He wants to say yes, because of my father. I want him to, just so I can call him racist.

“I mean the type who use sweet, trusting girls like Violet.”

“No offense, Mr. McQueen, but it’s up to your sweet, trusting daughter to make those choices for herself. Also, if I were you, I’d get to know her a little better. She might be sweet but she’s no broken bird. Her wings are mending and soon she’ll fly the fuck away from here.”

He flinches slightly. I’ve got him where it hurts. He knows this, deep down, that she’s lost and looking for any excuse to leave and spread her wings. He knows she’ll leave one day and never look back.

And I’ll be the one to give her the push.

“What are you guys doing?” We both look up to see Violet poking her head out the door. “The tequila is getting cold,” she jokes uneasily.

Camden looks at me and pastes a fake smile on his broad face. “We’ll have to discuss that tattoo later.” Then he flicks the half-smoked cigarette onto the middle of the street and turns and jogs up the stairs and into the house, squeezing Violet’s shoulder as he goes in.

Violet watches him and then comes down the stairs to stand beside me. “I need to ask you a favor,” she says, looking up at me with a pleading look in her eyes.

“What?” I ask, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. “Anything for you.”

“Can I take a rain check on tonight?” she asks. “I’m just going to stay here.”

She was supposed to come back to the hotel with me after dinner for a night of long-overdue fucking.

I immediately feel a punch to my gut, a sour arrow digging deep. “Why?” I ask slowly, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. Have her parents turned her against me already?

“Ben just told me something. I need time to process it.”

“What did he tell you?”

“I can’t say…well, I don’t want to. It’s complicated and I need to talk to him more. He’s pretty upset.”

“I can see that.”

“Me too. I just didn’t expect…anyway, I won’t keep you in the dark. I just want to make sure we know what we’re dealing with first before I tell you.”

I have to admit, this stings. More than I thought it would.

Perhaps she doesn’t trust me after all.

Perhaps she sees through everything.

Maybe she knows.

I stare at her for a few fervent seconds before I cup her small, beautiful face in my hands and search her dark eyes for something, anything, still left for me.

“I’m not leaving you that easily,” I tell her, my voice growing hoarse.

“Vicente,” she says softly, “I’m not leaving you either. It’s just for tonight. Family stuff. Please don’t take it personally. I have to respect Ben. He told me not to tell you anything.”

That eases my heart a bit.

But just a bit.

I kiss her hard, taking her breath away, sliding my tongue over hers and hoping to leave a mark in the deepest parts of her. My need for her seems to grow by the second.

“You’re mine, Violet,” I murmur roughly against her mouth, my fingers pressing into her cheekbones. “I don’t care how that sounds, but it’s the truth. You belong to me.”

Her fingers wrap around my shirt, holding on tight. I can feel her heart beating against mine and I’m struck by how strong it sounds and how fragile it is.

It frightens me.

The danger she could be in just by being with me.

The danger of loss.

I take in a deep breath and step back. I need to find my footing in all of this.

“Okay,” I whisper to her. “I’ll go.”

Her eyes widen. “You don’t have to go now!”

I nod. “I should. Go, be with your brother tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”