“Do you think so? Or are you telling me what you think I need to hear?” she asks.
From her tone, the question has more than one meaning, and I take a step closer, holding her gaze for a long moment. “I will never lie to you, Domina. I know what it feels like to have someone betray you. I can be an ass on my best day, but on my worst, I still wouldn’t lie to anyone I…considered a friend.”
“And you think we are friends?”
My training—knowing how to read people—has failed me exactly twice in my life. The first time, it cost me my eye. The second, it almost cost Trevor everything. If I’m wrong now, I could lose the first good thing to come into my life in years.
I blow out a breath, heft my toolbox, and pass her the new keys. “You’re all set, Domina. Keep the latch in place whenever you’re home, and until I get the motion sensor put together, keep using the chair under the knob.”
“Thank you, Leo. For doing this after…” The sadness in her tone is like a knife to my heart.
“I meant what I said.” Stepping over the threshold, I lift my gaze to hers. “You need a friend who can hit one out of the park with a cactus, you know where I’ll be.”
For a brief moment, I hold onto the hope that she’ll say something—anything. But then the door closes softly, and I’m alone in the hall, wondering if Domina will ever speak to me again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Leo
There isn’tenough coffee in the world this morning. After I left Domina’s, I stretched out on the couch withCasino Royaleplaying on my small flatscreen. But with her scent all around me—and those damn Huevos de Leche candies still in the bowl on the end table, my thoughts kept wandering. Back toher.
We were doomed from the start. I can’t change my past any more than I can change hers. She’ll never fully trust me, and I sure as shit won’t ask her to. Not when she’s so clearly been hurt before.
It’s barely 8:00 a.m., and I sling my backpack over my shoulder and step into the hall. Is she already at work? Did she feel safer last night with the new locks?
Stop. You don’t have the right to wonder anything about her.
Who am I kidding? Something about Domina has settled deep in my soul, and I’m afraid I’ll never get her out of my head—or my heart.
My body aches, several nights in a row of shitty sleep not doing me any favors. But a jolt of caffeine will help. I amble down the street to a little family-owned pastry shop and order a cup of coffee along with a half-dozen orejita—little pastries that are supposed to look like ears. But turn them on their sides, and they resemble hearts. Not sure why I never noticed that until today.
This was a terrible idea.
Señora Marquez brings the coffee over to my table and smiles down at me. “You look tired, Leo.”
Tired is an understatement. “I didn’t sleep well.” I offer her a shrug. “But I’ll be fine once the caffeine hits. How are you?”
With a cluck of her tongue, the woman pats my shoulder. “I am well. You are not.” She nods at the steaming mug and plate of orejita. “No charge.”
I protest, but she’s having none of it. She and her husband open at dawn and close sometime in the afternoon—whenever they feel like it. She’s never failed to remember my name or how I like my coffee. As strong as it comes with a single packet of sugar.
“Necesitas una novia,” she murmurs as she heads back to the counter for her next customer.
There are days I think Señora Marquez is the most observant person I’ve ever met. But she’s wrong. I don’tneeda girlfriend. Certainly never wanted one. Not with my damage. But for an hour while the storm raged the other night, I thought Domina and I might be heading there.
My coffee is almost gone when another regular stops by on his way to some office job. The man—Sylvio, I think—and Señora Marquez chat about the weather, his kids, her grandchildren…a little bit of everything. I should stop listening, but after twenty-two years on the job, eavesdropping is second nature.
“Did you hear?” Sylvio asks in hushed, rapid-fire Spanish. “About the men who broke into Vice President Cortez’s campaign offices this morning?”
My entire body tenses, and I reach for my phone. Domina said she worked ten hours a day. What if she was there? What if she’s hurt?
Leo: Please tell me you weren’t at the office when the break-in happened.
Señora Marquez makes the sign of the cross. “God was watching. The news said the building was still empty.”
My right hand shakes, and I drop my gaze. My scars stand out dramatically against my white knuckles, and when I release my tight fist, small dots of crimson stain my fingers. Shit. I couldn’t feel the puncture wounds tear open.
Domina’s apartment. Then her office. Three days apart? Even at my worst, I wouldn’t let that coincidence slide.
