“It is. Call off the Maldonados.” He bowed his head and spoke ardently. “Spare my life, and I will deliver it to you.”
I should’ve had Max finish him off there for trying to tempt me. I had a plan. More importantly, I had a code, especially when it came to human lives. I hadn’t encountered many reasons in my life to break it.
But this possession wasn’t only something I wanted. It was something Diego wanted.
And that made it all the more precious.
17
Natalia
I sat at my dresser in a daze, unsure of how long I’d been brushing my hair and willing my phone to ring. I hadn’t heard from Diego since the warehouse had burned, and my father was making arrangements to get me out of Mexico. Diego had to know how worried I was. And how that anxiety ruled my imagination. If the Maldonados knew about the warehouse, Diego could very well be dead by now.
Until I spoke to him, there was nothing I could do but pray for his safe return. I traded my brush for a match. When I struck it, fire flamed. I held it to the wick of my Virgin Mary candle, lit a few others on my dresser, and closed my eyes.
But I didn’t think of Our Lady or God or even Diego.
Instead, the devil came to mind.
Cristiano had fooled everyone around him—except me. I still hadn’t completely processed Cristiano’s involvement in the death of his own parents. At only fifteen, he’d come to my father, the head of their rival cartel, with information that he knew would seal their fate. How could my father have trusted someone who’d committed that kind of betrayal against his blood?
And now, Diego would pay the price.
No, I couldn’t think like that. Diego could pull himself out of this, and I had to hold on to that hope for both of us. Whatever it took, I wasn’t going to let him go. I couldn’t. Having Mamá ripped from my arms was enough heartbreak for one lifetime. Diego wasn’t just the love of my life—he was my past and future. He anchored me. We had a long life ahead of us—a cliffside California wedding, children that would resemble each of us, safety and security that had been earned over a lifetime.
Saying good-bye to all of that would be too difficult to bear.
I’d protect it however I needed to.
Diego had already shaken hands with one devil. Whether it was the Maldonados or Cristiano who held his fate, we’d take it back—even if it meant making a new deal.
No matter what my father said, I wasn’t leaving Mexico until I knew Diego was safe.
I paid no attention to the first couple taps at my window, but when the third came, I jumped up. Barely noticing how my feet smarted, I ran onto the balcony, tying my robe closed, and leaned over the side. One the dark lawn, a shadowed figure looked up at me from under a black hoodie.
My heart leapt. “Diego,” I said. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
He held a finger to his lips. After glancing left and right, he scaled the trellis along one wall he’d used before to sneak into my room.
I scanned the yard as he climbed, making sure nobody saw. As he reached the top, the wood lattice under his foot snapped. He jerked, cursing as he almost lost his footing. I reached for him, and a vision flashed across my mind, his fingertips centimeters from mine before he lost his grip and fell to his death.
I shook the harrowing thought from my mind. “Careful,” I whispered.
He grasped my hand and heaved himself up the rest of the way. I grabbed his cheeks and pulled his mouth to mine. He thrust one hand in my hair, holding me as he devoured me for a kiss that tasted of soot, smoke, and death. My fingers traveled his face, brushing over cuts and bumps. I drew back to take in the bloodied bruises on his cheekbones, nose, and forehead.
Seeing the evidence of his fight against that morning’s attack made my chin wobble.
“Oh, no, princesa. Don’t cry,” Diego said softly. “Let me in. After the last twenty-four hours, it’d be a waste for me to get shot here.”
I moved so he could climb over the concrete balustrade. Once inside, I hugged his neck. “I’m so scared.”
“Shh.” He rubbed my back. “Come. I need you to be strong for me.”
I swallowed down the urge to cry and reluctantly released him. “What’s happening?”
Diego sat on the edge of the bed, put his elbows on his knees, and ran both hands through his hair. “Please forgive me for last night. Please. I need you to know that I came back for you, but you were gone.”
“Against my will,” I said. “I would never have left you, either.”