Last Words (Morelli Family 7)

“I refuse to believe that.”

“I’m starting to understand you don’t live in the same reality as the rest of us. Has Mateo built you a whole world of your own, or did you come that way?”

I scowl at him and grab my lemonade, glaring some more as I take a sip.

As if I answered, Rafe nods. “Probably a little bit of both, huh? It’s a wonder he hasn’t broken your mind entirely. With prolonged exposure, the guy has a tendency to give people whiplash.”

I shrug. “They should get stronger necks.”

That makes him smile. “You’re loyal for a faithless slut.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” I advise him. “I’m entirely faithful.”

“Gonna tell him I grabbed your ass?”

“Mateo? Of course.”

He smiles, apparently unconcerned despite his words. “Aw, come on. You’re gonna cost me my free room and board.”

Rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of that statement, I remind him, “I’ve seen the house you live in. You can afford a hotel room.”

“That’s cold,” he informs me, taking another bite of his sandwich and trying to guilt me with his big brown eyes.

“I’m sure Candace will come warm you right up,” I say, lightly.

He grins. “Cadence.”

“Whatever.”

Chapter Seven

Meg

My dungeon sentence stretches on for hours that feel like days after family dinner. I had been looking forward to the bubble of socialization until it happened, but I noticed as I was left in my cell alone afterward, it made my sentence harder to endure instead of easier. Now as I spend each and every hour by myself in the darkness, swallowed by silence, my mind tortures me with the knowledge of all I’m missing out on upstairs.

I expect Mateo knew that. The thought briefly flitted across my mind that he was giving in to a moment of kindness, allowing me to come to dinner, but it was a foolish thought. I should have known better. Mateo isn’t kind.

I do not expect any visitors, so when I hear the dungeon door open, I expect it’s Maria coming to collect my dinner dishes.

But it’s Rafe. And he brings me a cookie.

I stand on the other side of the bars, struggling to hide my surprise. He was a major asshole to me last time I saw him and now he’s bringing me a treat? He passes it through the food slot and I take it, regarding the baked good with open suspicion. “What is this?”

Pulling up a metal folding chair, Rafe drops into the seat and says, “That is a cookie.”

My head lolls back and I roll my eyes. “I can see that it’s a cookie. Why did you get me a cookie? I thought you didn’t like me now.”

The corner of his stupid, sexy mouth tugs up in amusement. “I didn’t get you a cookie. Mia did. I am but a humble messenger.”

That makes much more sense. That also makes me much more willing to eat it. I wasn’t so sure about the safety of a cookie from Rafe—maybe Mateo sent him to do his dirty work. Maybe that’s the business he’s in town for and they’re just selling Mia a nicer story—but I know Mia wouldn’t poison me.

Satisfied that it won’t kill me, I unwrap the cookie and break off a little piece, popping it into my mouth. “There’s nothing humble about you.”

He grins at me. “Humble is for less impressive men.”

He’s insufferable. I eat my cookie and yearn to ignore him, but I can’t. There’s no one to talk to down here. I’ve had conversations with the wall. I can’t just ignore the only person who comes to visit me, even if it is this sneaky asshole.

“I thought Mia was grounded,” I remark cheekily, breaking off another piece of cookie. “Mateo let her out of the house?”

Rafe shrugs. “She has an extra guard now. For some strange reason, he thinks she’s safer with me around.”

“Isn’t she?” I toss back. “You dropped me like a hot potato to go guard her when he called you away at the wedding. He doesn’t even sign your paychecks, so your pro bono badassery would seem to indicate you have a vested interest in her safety.”

“Maybe,” he offers, without much commitment. “Could have my own reasons, though. Like you said, I don’t work for Mateo.”

Wariness creeps down my spine. I try to remain casual, but I look at him so I can read his expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said.”

I don’t like this at all. Every inch of ground I step on these days is unfamiliar territory, scary new ground that may crumble beneath my weight. Mateo is too tricky, his reach too far, his methods too unorthodox. It’s not remotely beyond the scope of reason to wonder if he sent Rafe down here to talk to me, to feel me out, see where I’m at.

And that would be fucking fantastic news. If he’s testing me, that means I have a chance. If he’s already made his mind up to kill me, there’s no need to administer a test.