“Whoever offered the contract also killed Morales,” the brother revealed then. “He contacted Fidel just after doing so and demanded he finish the job and kill Ms. Martinez. Fidel was meeting with a shooter when Juan and I arrived unannounced.”
“And now all our people know the dangers of attempting to follow Fidel’s examples and accepting contracts we do not approve ourselves. But even more, they now know the hazards of doing any business with the Genetics Council.” Juan’s smile was one of icy vengeance.
“And we still don’t know who’s behind it,” Cullen bit out. “Did he say anything else about the person offering it?”
Esteban, Juan and Samara all shook their heads in denial.
“I had his testicles in a very painful vise as well.” Samara’s smile was pure Blood Queen. “I believe had he known anything more he would have told us.”
No doubt. Chelsea was still struggling with the reminder that these grieving parents were also murderous.
“I’m curious,” Graeme asked, his tone somber.
The three Cerveses looked over at him inquisitively.
“Exactly how do you get them to the point where they’re aware you’re placing the vise on their testicles? I find they piss themselves within moments, and keeping them conscious becomes more a chore than anything else.” The seriousness of the question had Chelsea blinking back at him in shock.
“The trick to sustaining consciousness is to not overly shock their little minds or their bodies,” Samara answered, her tone e
qually serious. “Don’t use a sledgehammer when a rubber mallet will suffice. You work your way up to the sledgehammer.”
“Graeme, please.” It was Cat who protested the turn of the conversation. “Save the blood and gore for a later discussion.”
“Forgive me, Ms. Parker.” True regret flashed in Samara’s gaze. “This is not the proper time or place for such things. I hope you will accept my apologies.”
“But he asked the question,” Chelsea pointed out. “Let him beg forgiveness.” She threw Cullen’s brother a heavy frown, to which he just smiled back complacently.
“There are rules, Chelsea, to everything,” Samara stated, her gaze still shadowed with grief, though Chelsea could glimpse the chill of logic and cold hard reason as well. “Strong, independent women fight such rules in their youth, but we learn, eventually, the way of such things.”
Evidently she had no intention of learning the way of things then. She’d be damned if she’d apologize to it when a stupid question popped out of his mouth.
Cullen shifted beside her and cleared his throat.
Looking up at him, she was surprised to see the amusement flickering in his gaze.
“The look on your face was quite extraordinary,” Samara said with a soft smile. “Perhaps he knows the way of your thoughts.”
Not hardly. The only thing he’d cared to learn about her was how to make her orgasm. Though he was quite good at that.
“Maybe.” She shrugged, not revealing what she thought of that.
Samara sighed heavily then, the momentary amusement she felt drifting away beneath the grief once again. Meeting Chelsea’s gaze, she gave her a sad, wistful smile. “Perhaps one day you would allow me to tell you of the little girl you brought home to her momma and the many ways she changed a woman who held no belief in mercy or compassion before the evening I felt the first faint movement of her within my body. And I would tell you how she spoke of you.” Tears glittered in her eyes once again. “I would love to share my memories of her with you.”
And strangely, Chelsea knew she wanted to know those memories.
She nodded back to the mother hesitantly. “I’d like that,” she whispered. “I’d like that very much.”
Cullen heard the hunger in Chelsea’s voice to hear the memories of the little girl she’d brought home to her parents, and in that second he realized something he knew he’d been hiding from for far too long.
He loved her.
His proud, courageous Chelsea, so determined to watch his back rather than accept the protection he would have given her. He wouldn’t have been happy with that, though, he realized. She was his mate, and the danger to her would never completely go away. Better she be able to fight by his side. He knew several instances when it had meant the difference between other Breed mates’ life or death.
And nothing meant more to him than ensuring she lived. Unless it was ensuring she lived happily.
Sitting here, seeing the utter devastation in this family at the loss of the child they loved, he knew he never wanted to face life without Chelsea. And trying to lock her away from living just to protect her would smother her.
He didn’t want Chelsea smothered.