"I'm on a job. Remote location."
"Since when does that stop you?" Rosa's voice softens. "Everything okay? You sound... off."
"I'm fine."
"Cesar."
I close my eyes. My sister has always been able to read me, even when I don't want to be read. Even when I'm a thousand miles away and she can't see my face.
"The job is complicated," I say.
"Complicated how?"
"The principal is difficult."
"Difficult." I can hear her smiling. "You've handled cartel lieutenants and crooked politicians. What's so difficult about this one?"
She's twenty-three and blonde and looks at me like she wants to take me apart piece by piece. She pushed every button I have until I snapped and put her over my knee. And now I can't stop thinking about what else I want to do to her.
"She's young," I say instead. "Spoiled. Doesn't understand the danger she's in."
"Mm-hmm." A pause. "She's pretty, isn't she?"
"Rosa."
"I knew it. You like her."
"I don'tlikeher. She's a job."
"You like her," Rosa repeats, and now she's laughing. "Oh my God. Cesar Vega, brought low by a pretty girl. I never thought I'd see the day."
"You're not seeing anything. And it's not like that."
"What's it like, then?"
I don't answer. What am I supposed to say? That I can't stop thinking about her? That she drives me crazy in ways that are definitely not professional? That I laid my hands on her last night and felt something crack open inside me, something I've been keeping locked down for years?
"Be careful," Rosa says, and her voice is serious now. "You've worked too hard to throw it away for someone who isn't worth it."
"She might be worth it."
The words are out before I can stop them. Rosa goes quiet.
"Cesar..."
"I have to go. I'll call you later. I promise."
I hang up before she can say anything else. Stand there in the kitchen with my phone in my hand, staring at nothing.
She might be worth it.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Diamond doesn't appear until almost noon. I hear her before I see her, soft footsteps in the hallway, hesitant in a way they weren't before. When she comes into the kitchen, she's dressed differently. Jeans. A hoodie that actually covers her body. Her hair is down, face bare of makeup.
She doesn't look at me.
"There's coffee," I say. "And I can make food if you're hungry."
