Rafael’s gaze brightens with anger; it’s magnificent.
Or it would be if it wasn’t directed at me.
I try to keep my gaze fixed on his face, and not his hand holding the gun, but my eyes dart back and forth anyway. I’m failing miserably at hiding my fear. And there’s no security to be found in the fact my pistol’s chamber is empty. Especially knowing he doesn’t need ammo to kill me, because Rafael could accomplish that with his bare hands.
He taps his fingernail against the steel and the tiny clicking sound makes me wince. At my reaction, he narrows his gaze. “Let’s have a friendly discussion about this little gem right here. Shall we?”
With him sitting less than three feet away, and me wearing only a t-shirt that reaches my knees, I’m beyond feeling vulnerable.
Cornered and trapped by a vicious wolf, is more accurate.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, inserting a false confidence into my tone.
I’m beyond sure he can hear the tremor in my voice and from the way his gaze flickers over me, Rafael’s very aware of my fear. All my life I’ve pretended to be brave and it’s a defense mechanism that won’t die any time soon. Or ever. At an early age I learned the weak are preyed upon most often.
But I’m so tired of being strong. For once, I’d love for someone to take care of me, to lift the burden of responsibility from my shoulders. That’s as much of a fantasy as me being happily married for the rest of my life.
“For starters,” Rafael says, his gaze piercing me as much as a bullet does skin, “why do you have this firearm?”
I lift my chin. “I have a right to protect myself. You don’t know what it’s like to be a woman in a world ruled by men who can’t see beyond what can be gained, or taken, from you. To live in a constant state of terror because you have no power of your own.”
“And you don’t know what it’s like to be shot, but I do. And this weapon might be insignificant compared to others with a higher caliber, but it can still kill someone.” He leans forward and places both his forearms on his thighs, the gun dangling from his fingers in between his legs. “When you told me that both the enforcer and Federico were dead, I assumed it was a shootout in which you were a witness, hence the bloodstains on your clothing. But now? I want to know every single detail.”
My inhale is shaky and my chest rattles with my labored breathing. “What are you indirectly accusing me of?”
He does nothing except arch a single brow. That small action sets me off. Adrenaline has been circulating through me since the first chime of the enforcer’s cell phone and it’s only heightened my vigilance, as well as my apprehension.
“If you’re thinking I shot someone tonight, then you’re right,” I say, my voice hard like the metal in his hand. “That piece of shit would’ve raped me—tried to rape me, and I killed him. It’s what he deserved and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Rafael’s dark eyes flash and my entire body stiffens. I don’t regret what I just said because it’s the truth. Hopefully it’ll prove I’m not playing games with him in this situation.
“What. Else?” His words are clipped and have a razor-sharp edge to them.
Some of my bravado leaves me at the barely concealed rage lurking in Rafael’s gaze. His expression is neutral, but every single contour of his face and jaw look as though they’ve been carved by fury. The photographer in me focuses on every curve and line, tracing them with my eyes.
I blink at him, trying to realign my thoughts. “There’s nothing else. The enforcer shot Federico, attempted to assault me, I killed him, and now they’re both dead.”
“If they weren’t, they’d sure as fuck would be.” He blows out of a breath and then pinches his lips together. “Anything else?”
“No. After assessing my options, I came straight here.”
A strange gleam flares in the coal-black depths of Rafael’s eyes. “Because I’m your next target, Carina?”
My mouth falls open. In my brain everything clicks into place like a puzzle before it’s cut into pieces and I’m able to see the picture clearly: Rafael thinks I came here to murder him.
I can’t stop that from repeating over and over in my head, and each time it begins anew, it’s louder than before, worse than a clanging cymbal. The nervous current the thought sparks now zips along every inch of my skin, and as though a bolt of lightning strikes me, I jump from my seat, grabbing my purse and Federico’s jacket with the intent to flee.
He cocks his head. “If I have to take a single step in your direction, I can guarantee you that things will become…unpleasant.”
Maybe it’s the arrogant tilt of his head or the authoritative way in which he speaks, but whatever the reason, I lift my chin higher in defiance. It’s just a fraction of an inch, barely anything at all. But it’s enough for me.
And it’s enough for him as well, because he gets to his feet.
I hug my handbag to my chest like a shield and take a tentative step back. “This entire evening has been immensely stressful and I really need to leave.” I scramble for something to say, a solid reason that will justify my departure. “My…my cat needs me, so I have to go. He eats at a certain time everyday and I’m beyond late, as you can see.”
The side of his mouth rises in a smile, but a twinkle of amusement is nowhere to be found in his dark eyes. He’s pissed off. The energy radiating off him is easily felt, even from several feet away.
“Not that I believe you,” he says, bracing his hands on the nearby loveseat, “but even if I did, the only person who needs their pussy is me. We’re far from done here, so I’ll warn you one last time: Don’t take another step.”
