“Do I look like I care?”
“No, you look insane right now. I’m a damn murder suspect. Lor is in fucking hospital in a fucking coma. Dante is doing everything he can to screw us all over. And you’re driving around with a crossbow on your lap kidnapping and shooting arrows at people you don’t want to piss off.”
I snort and say nothing.
“What?”
“You’re afraid.”
“Too fucking right I am, you’ve not met my brother. Or Ethan.”
“Ethan?”
“The guy my brother works for.”
I shrug. “He’s not met me.” None of you have. This version of who I am is nothing compared to who I am with my family.
“Do you trust me?” Dino says after a pause. His dimple is back. I have an urge to lick it. Or bite it. Or carve it out.
I sigh and drag my gaze away from his most attractive facial deformity, and really look at Dino. He’s the most annoying out of the three. He’s the one who doesn’t get me. He’s always trying to get me to be calmer, saner, sweeter. He questions every fucking thing I do. But…
He cleans up every kill I make.
He does every job I ask of him perfectly.
He’s always there for me.
“I do,” I say, finally answering his question.
“Then leave finding who did this”—he taps the folder with the images inside—“to me.”