El Santo (Saint-Sinner #1)

“Nicely, eh?”

“Yeah. He just watched you kill someone at point blank. It was a good introduction for me, and it worked in my favor. God rest his soul. The man was scared of you, so he let me go.”

“If he had been scared of me, he wouldn’t have dared to let you off that fucking boat. Besides, that motherfucker had it coming. He was corrupt as fuck. He’s lucky to have survived that long. Don’t worry, his soul was already resting in Hell before my fucking bullet hit his head.”

I swallowed hard, nodding.

“I don’t murder innocent people, Mu?eca.”

“But you do murder people?” I blurted, regretting the question as soon as it left my mouth. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“Why? Because you suddenly don’t want to know my truths and fucking business?”

I shook my head. “I just know you don’t like answering my questions.”

“I see, so you’ve become obedient in the last few hours. Might have meant something if you actually stayed on the goddamn boat.”

I didn’t say anything because what could I say to that?

“How did you get in?”

My eyes widened, not wanting to tell him.

“Don’t make me ask you again, Amira.”

I didn’t. He was being the calm Damien again, although he was burning inside.

From me.

I loved it…

And I hated it.

But I loved it more, I think.

“With a key, I stole it from Mama Rosa’s keychain when I noticed she had a spare.”

“So now you’re a liar and a thief?” he insolently stated, even though it came out as a question.

I winced, hugging myself tighter. “I was just trying to have a backup plan. In case I ever needed to run from Mama Rosa’s house and hide.”

His face went sullen as he narrowed his eyes at me. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Sometimes I don’t tell you things.”

“Since when? Most of the time I can’t get you to shut the fuck up.” He placed his index finger out in front of his lips. “I’m sorry, Mu?eca. I didn’t mean that. It’s been a long fucking day, and I’m hanging on by a thread here. Do you understand me?”

“Yes. You say shitty things when you’re mad or upset. Almost like a child throwing a temper tantrum,” I replied, showing him I could say mean things too.

He grinned. “Did you ever stop and think those are the kinds of things I needed to know?”

“Yes. Which is why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to worry about me. You already do enough of that. I mean, look what you did tonight. You were trying to send me away—”

He was over to me in three strides, standing near the edge of the bed, slamming his fists into the mattress between us. “For the last fucking time, I was not sending you away!”

I didn’t falter. If I did, I would lose. I made my way over to him on my hands and knees, stopping when our faces were inches apart.

Adamantly countering, “That’s what it felt like to me. All you do is make choices for me. What I need, what I want, how I feel… it’s bullshit! I’m not a little girl anymore, if I ever truly was one. I’ve lived through my own darkness and watched you battle yours for years. I may not know exactly what you do, but know I don’t have to wonder. You showed me tonight. And you want to know something? I don’t care! It’s not who you are. It’s who you think you have to be!”

He jerked back like I had slapped him across the face. I knew it was the liquor lowering his guard. He would’ve never showed me his emotions otherwise. That wasn’t who Damien was, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to use it to my advantage. Standing up for what I believed in and felt in my heart.

“Don’t ever do that to me again! Do you understand me?” I repeated the statement he always said to me with the same hard edge in my tone. “We’re in this life together for the long run. Whether it’s in Cuba under Emilio Salazar’s “Fatherland”, or in any other part of the world under Damien Montero’s demons. We’re family. You’re”—I stabbed my finger over his heart, moving to stand in front of him— “my family. And we don’t turn our backs on each other. Ever!” I paused, allowing what I said to sink into his thick, stubborn skull. “I love you, and I know you love me. I’ve known you loved me every second of every single day for almost six years. I don’t need to hear you say it. They’re just words. Your actions have always spoken louder than any of those endearments. The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve realized that I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you as long as I can remember.”

“Amira—”

In that moment.

In that minute.

I kissed him.

Even though I had no experience, no knowledge, no anything of what I was doing. I couldn’t help myself. I had to feel his lips on mine. I had to show him, prove to him that he loved me as much as I loved him. He was just too scared to think it, to feel it, to act on it, so I did it for him. Wanting him to finally see me as the young woman I was, and not the little girl he saved.

I didn’t need saving anymore.

He did.

The second I parted my lips, he roughly gripped onto my hair by the nook of my neck. Crudely yanking my head back and off his mouth. I gasped, feeling the intrusion on my scalp in a heavenly and sinful sensation. My chest was rising and falling as I stared into his eyes, dark and dilated in a mesmerizing way. Captivating every last part of me from my head down to the tips of my toes, and all he was doing was glaring at me. Clinging to my core in the exact manner he was clutching onto my hair. I didn’t move an inch. Panicked that if I did, he would stop and I would never get to experience him looking at me like that again.

“Please,” I panted for I don’t know what.

Baiting him. Tempting him. Breaking him.

And then I saw it.

Clear as day.

The thin string he talked about minutes ago, snapped.

It was loud.

It was chaotic.

It was everything I ever wanted.

Him.

He growled from deep within his chest, crashing his mouth onto mine. Clutching the side of my face with his hands, he bit my bottom lip. Unmercifully slamming me hard into the wall behind us, causing my mouth to fly open from the pleasure and pain of his touch. He growled again, but this time he plunged his dominant, hot tongue into my awaiting and willing mouth. Teasing me with the tip, all along the outline of my lips. Seeking out my tongue.

My senses heightened, taking in the scent of cigarettes, and that sweet, malty taste of the alcohol that lingered in his mouth. I would never be able to smell that scent without thinking about Damien in this very moment.

The taste of him.

The feel of him.

The scent of him.

Was all around me…

Branding itself into every pore of my body. Hundreds of thoughts and questions crossed my mind, but it didn’t matter because my heart already knew the answers.