Black Hearts (Sins Duet #1)

“He had a van?”

“Black. No windows. I didn’t see the make or the license plate or anything. I barely saw him.”

“Was it the same guy as before, the albino one?”

“I don’t know. I don’t…I wish I could say I saw him but my brain was just figuring out how to live. And I figured he was alone so once he reached for the door to shove me inside I decided to hit him.”

Pride knocks into me. “You hit him?”

“I had to. Do or die. We fought. I broke his nose. I was able to get a kick to his face before I ran away.”

Good god. I don’t think I’ve ever had a sexier sight in my head, my dear blackbird fighting off an abductor and living to tell the tale. My cock throbs mercilessly and I have to stifle a groan that wants to escape through my lips.

Now is not the time.

Still, I can’t help myself. “Tell me more about how you fought him off.”

She smiles which in turn makes her wince. “Please don’t tell me this is turning you on. I know the signs.”

I attempt to look innocent. I don’t do a very good job.

“While he reached for the door, I bit into his hand and then managed to get my elbow in his face, which obviously caught him off-guard. Then I got him on the nose. Upward strike. Broke it. I felt it break.”

I lick my lips. “And how did it feel? To hurt him?”

She takes a moment before she speaks, looking at me, troubled. “Honestly? It felt good. Really good.”

A smile slowly slides across my face.

There’s a hunger burning in her eyes that wasn’t there before.

I would do anything to fan those flames, give her strength to burn the world to the ground and rise from it.

“Then I kicked him the face. I mean, I almost missed. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in good shape, it’s just by luck that I was able to get my leg up that high.”

“He must have not been that tall.”

“No, he wasn’t,” she muses, brow furrowed. “Maybe two inches taller.”

I think to Parada’s height. Like most Mexicans, he’s not especially tall. He didn’t luck out like I did. But grabbing her on the street and into a black van? Working alone? That doesn’t sound like Parada at all. Once again I’m at a loss as to who this person could be.

I do know I’ll kill him once I find him.

Drive a gun so far up his ass he’ll be spitting bullets.

Then I’ll pull the trigger.

“After that, I ran,” she goes on, her breathing now returning to normal. “I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t want to go home, I thought…maybe they were waiting for me there. Maybe it wasn’t safe. This has to do with my parents, Vicente, this can’t be random.”

“It’s not random. Nothing that has happened to you is random.”

She nods slowly, eyes focused on nothing.

“So these men are after me because of my parents,” she says flatly. She brings her gaze up to mine, pain in her eyes. “Or are they after me because of you?”

I stare back at her blankly.

What does she know, what does she know?

Maybe she knows more than she’s saying.

Maybe those were my father’s men after all.

Changing tactics to throw me off.

“I don’t understand,” I finally say.

She straightens up, her eyes still searching mine, trying to read me. For once I fear how intuitive she is.

“The moment you showed up in my life, trying to join my class…one minute everything was fine, then you appeared.”

I can’t let her run away with this.

“Violet, you’re scared and looking into things that aren’t there. You’re overreacting.”

“Fuck you!” she suddenly yells, popping up to her feet. “Fuck you, I am not overreacting, I was nearly fucking abducted, this guy hit me with his god damn gun! I’m looking into everything that I can!”

“Calm down.”

“I will not fucking calm down!” she throws her arms out and starts storming off.

I jump to my feet and go after her.

By the time I grab both her biceps, twirling her around, I feel the gun dislodge from my waistband. It’s too late to stop it.

It clatters to the floor.

Violet looks down.

Recoils.

But my grip on her is too tight.

“Why do you have a gun?” she cries out, trying to get away.

I won’t let her. I bring her closer to me.

She struggles.

I’m stronger.

“Violet,” I say, my voice soft but firm. “Violet, listen to me.”

“Let fucking go of me.”

“I will when you calm down.”

“Why do you have a gun?” she repeats. Her eyes are awash with fear as she stares at me, like she’s never seen me before.

I close my eyes for a second, breathing in sharply through my nose, letting my breath bring me clarity.

“I have a gun for protection. As do most people in this country.”

“Protection from what?” She sounds nearly broken from fear. I realize under normal circumstances this might not be a big deal to her. But since she was just held at gunpoint and had that same gun driven into the beautiful bones of her cheek, she’s going to overreact.

“Protection from people, people like the ones who did this to you.” I loosen my grip on her, put one hand to her face to brush her hair behind her ear, but she turns it sharply away from me.

“Is that your only gun?” she asks.

I hesitate. It tells her enough.

She rips backward out of my grasp and I instinctively reach down to pick up the gun.

“I’ll scream,” she warns me, backing up into the wall.

I raise the gun in the air, letting it dangle from my finger, a sign of peace. “This gun isn’t for you, Violet.” But I don’t let go of it as I approach her.

She’s eyeing it now. She wants to grab it from me. She thinks I’ll use it on her.

She’s losing her mind.

Our eyes meet.

She opens her mouth to scream.