His train of thought baffled him. She was nothing more than a prisoner. A soon-to-be-dead prisoner.
Her death would be a waste of a gorgeous body. Most men would sell their souls for a night between her legs. But the lure of a beautiful woman had no power over him.
Lucia spent eleven years at his side, naked in his room, and dependent on his mercy. He’d allowed himself to touch her, to indulge in the feel of her every dip and curve. But he never fucked her. That was his rule. His self-imposed penance.
Kate was no different.
He ran a hand along the cuff of his shirt, unbuttoned it, and did the same with the other sleeve. “After a month of bed rest, this is the first time I’ve put on clothes. Unfortunately, when my bag was packed for me, my casual attire was forgotten in the rush.”
Her mouth parted, her eyes bright and watchful. He knew she’d wondered why he’d dressed up. The fact that he answered her unspoken question surprised him as much as it did her.
“I’ve been straight with you.” He rolled up his sleeves, taking his time with each one. “Your life is forfeit. A penalty paid for Tate’s stupidity. It’s in my best interest to kill you quickly.”
She fell unnaturally still, her gaze focusing on nothing. He wasn’t sure she was breathing.
Then she blinked and locked onto his eyes. “Do you have anything to drink?”
Her calm response gave him pause, and in that unexpected moment, he found her…spellbinding.
“There’s a bottle of tequila in my bag.” He nodded at the luggage. “Cups are in the bathroom.”
“I’ll pour us some shots.”
As she stood, her arm wrapped around her stomach where he’d kicked her, her face etched in pain.
He should’ve killed her the moment she entered his room.
Why didn’t he just do it now? As long as she was alive, her friends wouldn’t stop looking for her.
She shuffled through the small space, grabbing the tequila and pulling his concentration along with her. The white-gold of her hair, the unintentional sway of her ass, the irresistible flex of muscle there—the sight of her made him burn, hardening him until there was nowhere to go in his fitted trousers.
He deserved the discomfort, had earned the torment of looking at her without touching. Twelve years ago, he made the gravest mistake of his life and lost everything that made him human. But he still had a working dick, and the damn thing wanted out.
She returned to the mattress, watching him watch her. “Why is killing me in your best interest?”
There were many reasons, but he gave her the one that would hurt her most.
“You said it yourself.” He lifted the tequila from her hand, filled the cups, and handed one to her. “Your army of dangerous friends is looking for you.” He took a hearty draw from the mug, hoping the alcohol would numb his perpetual headache. “I’ll leave your body where they can find it.”
She tossed back the tequila, gulping it down between hacking coughs.
“Sit.” He motioned at the mattress.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, sat at the farthest end, and held out the empty mug. “If you kill me, they’ll come for you.”
“Not with the same urgency or persistence.” He refilled her cup. “What will they sacrifice to avenge your death? How long will it take before they refocus their efforts on those they can save? That’s what they do, right? They free human slaves.”
She averted her eyes, jaw clenched, and looked back at him. “You don’t know them.”
“When Van Quiso and Liv Reed ran a sex trafficking ring, you were their seventh slave. But they put all that behind them, and now they co-parent the child who came out of their twisted relationship. Van married Amber. Liv married Josh, and they’re all one big fucked-up family. You are not their priority.”
“Where did you get that information?”
“Then there’s Lucia’s sister, Camila Dias. She’s not only the leader of your little army. She also happens to be married to the capo of the Restrepo cartel. She made quite a leap from Van’s attic. Or a fall, depending on how you look at it.” He finished off his tequila and poured another. “While Matias Restrepo has the resources to take me out, his focus is and always will be on Camila. If she died by my hand, he’d tear the universe apart in his fury to make me suffer. But I took you, and you are not his. You’re not his priority. Not his concern.”
“Whatever you think.” She lifted a shoulder, and the trembly motion ruined her attempt at indifference.
“As for the men you lived with, they’re currently seeking refuge in Colombia, under Matias’ protection.”
“They’re afraid you’ll come after them. If you kill me, they will retaliate.”
“Which roommate were you fucking? Martin? Luke? Tomas? All of them?”