“What should we do now?”
“I think we should let him be for now, let him wait here, wondering when his last moments might be.”
He’s sadistic now. It shouldn’t be so arousing.
“Bye Xander.” I wiggle my figures in a little wave as Enzo drags me out behind him, the door clanging shut behind us.
“You’re a little psycho, you know that right?” Enzo laughs as we step back into his apartment.
I twist my head to look at him. “I don’t know what you mean,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
He pinches my side making me yelp. Then his expression turns serious. “Seriously, Iz. When are you going to tell me how you became this person?”
I sigh, sinking down onto the couch, letting my head fall back against the cushions. “I can’t.”
Phoenix is not something I can discuss, no matter how much I trust him. We are a collective of agents, all of us with handlers—like Cam—who connect us to the higher ups. We don’t ask questions. We don’t know who each other are unless we end up on a job together, and even then, it’s never acknowledged. It works.
Since I joined, I’ve helped take down five trafficking rings. Despite the work we do, despite the number of groups we target, more keep popping up faster than we can take them down. Still, each woman saved is a win.
Enzo disappears for a moment, then returns with an ice pack.He presses it against my cheek making me hiss. I’d forgotten all about the swollen face.
“The Izzy I left behind was too innocent to know how to shoot a gun, let alone torture a man.”
I roll my eyes, taking the ice pack from him. “The Izzy you left behind was thirteen years old. I grew up.”
His eyes rake over me, and I swear there’s a hunger behind them. “I’ve noticed.”
The flush creeping over my skin is inevitable under the intensity of his gaze.
“When did you learn to shoot?”
This I can answer.
“When I was eighteen. Papa taught me.”
“Why?”
“So I could protect myself when he was gone. He had cancer. Terminal. He wanted to make sure I’d be okay without him.” And he wanted to train me to take over his role, not that I knew it at the time.
“I’m sorry.” His arms wrap around my shoulders. “I’m sorry you went through his death alone. I should have been there.”
“Why did you stay away?” I ask. The question has been burning inside me for the past twenty years. “Why did you stop replying to my letters?”
He steps away from me, pacing slightly as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I thought it was better keeping you away from my world. I—Iz, I’m not a good man.”
I stand in front of him, forcing him to look at me. “I know exactly who you are, Lorenzo.” His face screws up at the name. “You’re my best friend. The man who protected me when I needed him most. You might not think you’re good. But to me? You’re my savior.”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t care if you’re a monster,Tesoro. You’remymonster.”
23
Apology Not Accepted
I keep waiting for your letters, but they never come. They were the best part of my week. —Are we still friends? Izzy
Enzo
