Stefan is sitting outside watching the dark blue water. He turns when he hears me and without a word, I take my place opposite him at the table and when I sit down, I can still feel him inside me, feel what we did.
He just watches me, drinking his whiskey.
“Okay?” he asks.
I nod, a little embarrassed. Something is different with us.
Without asking if I want it, he pours me a glass of white wine.
I pick it up, taking the first sip. I savor it, needing it.
Being with him like we were, it fucks with me. Makes me go all soft.
I drink another swallow of wine.
“I like how you look after being fucked.”
“How do I look?”
“Soft. Dreamy.”
“It’s your magical cock, I guess.”
“Probably,” he winks and his expression is disarming. “But what I like more is how you look at me after.”
I don’t need to ask what he means. This one I know. I look at him like he’s a god. My god.
“It’s just sex.”
“No, it’s not. And you know it.”
I do.
But I have to make myself remember. Remember New York. Remember Gabe. Remember what my father told me.
That’s the one that does it. That wipes that dreamy expression off my face. And he sees it instantly.
“You’re ready to talk,” he says. It’s not a question and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he looks a little disappointed.
“Tell me what happened between the morning we were in New York and that afternoon? Tell me what has you thinking you need to hate me again.”
“I do hate you, Stefan. I never stopped hating you.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
“You want to argue it? Argue how I feel versus how you think I feel?”
“No, I don’t. I think it’d be a boring conversation. Truce, Gabriela.”
“Why?”
“Because whether you want to admit it or not, we have a common enemy and you and I are one another’s only allies.”
“Enemies and allies. I’ve never heard those words so much before meeting you.”
“Explain to me again how you got a bump on the back of your head during the car chase.”
“I bumped it against the window. I told you.”
“Do you see how that doesn’t make physical sense to me?”
“It all happened so fast. Maybe I hit it against something else. I don’t know, Stefan.”
He studies me, eyes narrowing. “You were right,” he says.
“Right about what?” Is he letting it go?
“Rafa and Clara. They’re together.”
“How do you know that?”
“I went to Rafa’s house yesterday. She was there and Rafa confirmed it.”
“I don’t care. Why do you think I would care?”
“Just thought I’d share it with you. I’ll share more. Those men Rafa thought were following you the other day, they were my men.”
“What? Why? I mean, I didn’t even see anyone. I couldn’t figure out who was chasing us.”
He remains silent while I try to work through this.
“Why did you have men following us?”
“I had them following Rafa. Not you. I wanted to be sure you were safe, and I had doubts about Rafa. Doubts that have been confirmed.”
“What?”
I feel my forehead crease as I think about Gabe. About where he is. Where Rafa said he put him. When I tried to call Melanie to make sure they were okay, I only got voice mail.
“The birds were poisoned, Gabriela.”
“Poisoned? Why? Who would do that? How?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. He sets it on the table. It’s a thumb drive.
“I don’t understand.”
“I went to see the man who made the cage when we were in New York. To be honest, that was the reason I needed to go. But I’m glad I was able to take you to see your brother.”
I hear the last part but set it aside for now. “It was made in New York?”
Stefan nods.
I’m not surprised, am I? My father had it made. Does Stefan know that?
“I recognized the name of the smith. And the reason I looked into it is there’s no way my uncle could afford to gift something like that. Not on his own.”
“My father paid for it,” I say.
He studies me.
I study him.
“This was inside it.” He gestures to the drive.
“Where?”
“In a secret compartment. There were food pellets in the compartment too. I’d thought they were just buffer and didn’t think twice about what got left on the bird cage floor.”
“I’m not following.”
“I had the pellets tested. They were poisoned.”
“Why? Why would someone poison birds? Why would my father? And why would he, and I assume it was him, why would he hide a thumb drive in our wedding gift?”
“Kill two birds with one stone. One pellet, I guess.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not being funny.”
“What’s on the drive?”
“Betrayal. Rafa’s. My uncle’s. He’s the one who had you kidnapped. Rafa’s the one who told him your father was sending men to pick you up.”
My blood turns to ice and I shudder. “How would he know?”