I stiffened as irritation took over. “Try again.”
He moved inside and threw the door closed as he kept coming for me. “Because people are asking questions I don’t care to answer.”
“You could tell them the truth. This is a crime family, is it not?”
He laughed. “Most of my family turn the other cheek and pretend the money they enjoy spending is not ill-gotten.”
“Which means they’re using you.”
“No, baby. It means I don’t owe them an explanation.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Call you what?” His voice didn’t hold any confusion. Only challenge.
“Baby. You and I both know I’m still around because I don’t have a choice.”
“You’re no longer my hostage. You’re my guest.”
“And without you, I’m dead.” My laugh was dry. “I bet that makes your dick hard.”
“There are many things you do that make my dick hard. Being dead isn’t one of them. Well… not anymore.”
He grinned and it was such a sexy look on him. It was too bad his smile wasn’t enough to thaw the cold reminder of death that he once planned for me. I shoved him, but he caught my waist and threw me on the bed before climbing on top of me.
“You’re upset.” He didn’t appear the least bit apologetic.
“What was your first clue?”
“The frown on your face. It’s sexy, don’t get me wrong, but you’re beautiful when you smile.”
“You running games on me, Knight?”
“Yes,” he growled. “My dick made plans with your pussy tonight, and I screwed it up by being an ass.”
I patted his cheek. “No, sweetie.” My voice dripped sweet sugary venom. “You screwed it up when you opened your mouth.” He looked confused so I threw him a bone. “You’re grieving. I got that.”
“But?”
“But you reminded me of everything you did to my son and me when you admitted you wanted me dead once upon a time.”
“So what are you saying?”
The promise of sex evaporated from his eyes. Instead, he stared down at me as if I just kicked his puppy. It still didn’t compare to all he’d done to me. He’d somehow made me admit I still wanted him, but that didn’t mean he could make me forgive him. My heart and body wanted different things from him.
“I’m saying, I can’t forgive you.”
His eyes moved over my face, and I had the feeling he was searching for a way in. My heart? My soul? He didn’t know that he already found his way into both. The path he used, though, was too ugly and broken to makeover with pretty words.
“Ever?”
I answered only when I was sure my voice was strong. “Ever.”
*
A knock on the door came a few minutes after Angel stormed out. “Come in.”
The door opened, and Bea slipped inside. I had the feeling she didn’t want her son to know she was with me.
“Hi, honey.” Her smile was warm, but I could see the sadness she attempted to hide within her eyes.
“Hey.” She glanced toward the crib where Caylen played with his toes. He was ten months in a few days and getting more limber by the day. Pretty soon, he’d be walking, talking, and running. I only hoped I could keep up. Bea walked over to the crib and cooed when she got a better look at him. “He’s so handsome. Maybe even more so than Angel when he was his age.”
My blood ran cold.
She thought Caylen was Angel’s.
“Unfortunately, I think he looks more like his father every day.” When she turned to regard me, her frown was deep. “He’s not Angel’s son.”
She didn’t bother to deny what I had picked up from her comment and looked back down at Caylen. “Nevertheless. He is a handsome one.” She smiled, and it seemed genuine. “The girls won’t stand a chance.”
“Thank you,” I forced out, not feeling as genuine.
“So, how have you been? It’s been a while.”
“More than just a while, Bea.” Try five years.
She had the decency to look contrite. “It seems I have a lot to apologize for.”
Don’t bother . “Don’t worry about it.” I tried to remind myself that her husband was murdered, which meant she wasn’t obligated to reach out to the daughter of his killer. Even if my mother had been her best friend, and I was just a kid left with no one.
“I care about you, Mian. I know I haven’t shown it well, but I do.” I nodded since I had nothing to say. “I have something for you,” she said when the silence became awkward. I watched her reach into her purse and felt uneasy. She had no idea she’d be seeing me. How could she know to bring something?
I thought I was hallucinating when she pulled out a doll I hadn’t seen in three years and haven’t played with even longer. “When Angel sold the brownstone, he put your things in storage.” He did what? “Anyway, I couldn’t bear to see this locked away to collect dust. My husband gave this to you as a gift, didn’t he?”
My lungs felt like a boa constrictor was wrapped around it while my heart threatened to burst. I couldn’t breathe.
Once upon a time this doll lost her head.
And I lost a memory…
Chapter Fifty-Seven