Black Hearts (Sins Duet #1)

“Violet,” he says in a voice I don’t even recognize. “Let me deal with this my own fucking way.”

Then he gets up, nearly knocking me over, and storms out of the room to his old one across the hall, slamming the door. The tequila went with him.

I exhale loudly and sit down on the bed.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

Nothing except one man.

I know I shouldn’t bug Ben anymore, so I go about getting ready for bed. After I’ve brushed my teeth and washed my face, slathering on moisturizer, I pick up my phone to text Vicente.

With one hand on the phone, about to type, I reach up with my other to lower the blinds.

I gasp.

Outside the window, down below in the courtyard, is the tall figure of a man standing beside my mother’s lemon tree. He blends in so well that it’s hard to know what I’m looking at, especially as the mist curls around him and scatters the faint light from the back door.

But there’s a glowing amber in the darkness. A lit cigarette that moves from being held at the side and then up to the mouth where it burns bright like a star.

It’s not just the hairs on the back of my neck that are standing up. It’s every single pore of my body, raised, electric.

I keep my eyes on the figure while texting Vicente at the same time.

Where r u?

I press send and wait.

I watch.

The figure seems to be the same height as him with the same wide shoulders, but I can’t make out any details or features. For a moment I think my eyes are playing tricks on me, but when I keep watching, the figure moves slightly as if off-balance, the cigarette still glowing.

Who are you? I think. Are you my Vicente? Are you ghosts from my parents’ past? Are you the white man who follows me?

But the figure gives no answer and I don’t dare look away. The longer I stare at him, the more he seems to morph into nothing at all.

And then I realize that visibility is down to a few feet. Fog obscures everything. I quickly glance down at the phone and see the text from Vicente.

Just got to the hotel. Talk to you tomorrow, mirlo.

I look back to the window.

The fog has quickly blown past.

The tree is there.

The man is gone.

I shake my head, trying to blink him back into existence. It must be the wine, it must be the tequila, it must be the stress of dealing with Ben.

He was probably never there.

I shut off the light and get into bed.

I close my eyes.

I know there was someone there.





Chapter Fifteen





Ellie




Ellie sits up in bed, in the dark. She can feel the gun burn beside her in the bedside table drawer. Vicente was right about that, the little fuck, but he doesn’t know that there’s a gun in the other bedside table as well.

You can never be too careful.

Ellie knows this well.

She waits until Camden comes through the door and shuts it behind him, his tall silhouette approaching the bed.

“They’re asleep,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I think Ben’s passed out.”

Ellie nods, holding the blanket up to her chest, her fingers curled over the hem like she’s a child all over again, holding on to that one stuffed rabbit she had, the only thing she really remembers from her childhood that signified she ever was a child.

Everything beyond that rabbit—grey matted fur with the stuffing coming out, the one shiny eye and crooked yarn smile, the cliché of every marred childhood—was a blur of lies and pain. She never had a childhood, she just had games she had to play, games that ended with acid being poured on her leg by a madman.

She was so young when she was scarred for life. Scars that traumatized her throughout the years, that reminded her each and every day that she had no one to love her, that she was just a pawn and would always be a pawn.

Her husband’s cherry blossom tattoo masks the deformities, but even beautiful art can’t hide an ugly canvas. It will always be there, underneath.

“Are you okay?” Camden asks, getting into bed beside her.

“Yeah,” she says quietly and hates how weak her voice sounds.

Camden puts his arm around her and pulls her to his chest until her head sinks in there, fitting just right. She can hear his heartbeat—it’s her metronome. It’s the pulse that her life moves to. Without him, she has nothing.

And without her children, she has nothing too.

This is what scares her. That they’re all on the verge of the abyss, and one wrong move will send everyone over. She doesn’t know what she’d do if anything were to happen to Violet or Ben. It doesn’t matter that Ben isn’t hers biologically—she’s raised him since he was three years old to be hers, and so he is.

Time seems to slow in their bedroom. The house creaks on with the night. Finally she says, “I’m scared.” Her voice seems to echo in the room, like the room is scared too.

“Don’t be,” Camden says. “Violet can take care of herself.”

“You really don’t think it’s him?”

“Javier’s son?” he asks. “No. You’re right about the eyes, but everything else…I don’t know. I think you’re seeing what you want to see.”

She stiffens. “Why the fuck would I want to see that?”

“Because it’s your past. Because the past has recently caught up to us, and now we’re seeing it everywhere. It’s just bad timing, Ellie. That’s all. Vicente just happens to look the same as Javier and you’re taking that and running with it, assuming he’s been sent here for her.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

Camden swallows noisily. “If I’m wrong, we’ll know. And we’ll deal with it then.”

“That’s a big risk.”

“I trust our daughter. That’s all there is to it.”

“But she doesn’t know what that man is capable of.”

“That’s true. But Vicente isn’t that man. Even if he does end up being his son, and that’s a long shot, he still isn’t that man. It’s been too long. Too fucking long.” He sighs. “This is just life. We knew this wouldn’t be easy, to keep everything the way it is.”

“Keep up the lies, you mean?”