Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
What was it Naz said before he walked away?
Don't let anyone put their hands on you, Irish. I won't allow them to keep them if they do.
This is…not good. It's not good at all. And judging by the look on my father's face, he isn't buying my explanation, either. He knows Naz is up to something.
"Nazario is dangerous, A stór," he says quietly. "He lies as easily as he breathes. He'll tell you a pretty story and then destroy you just to punish me."
"Punish you for what?" I ask. "What did you do that has the two of you on the verge of war?"
"It doesn't matter," he says wearily, pushing away from the wall. "What matters is you and your brother." He swallows, worry burning bright in his eyes. "I promised your mother to keep you both safe. But Niall is too fucking much like me, A stór. I can't stop him from putting himself in harm's way. I can't risk anything happening to you, however. She'd never forgive that."
"Dad," I say softly, my heart clenching in a vise. Even now, a decade later, he still mourns her. "Nothing is going to happen to me."
"Promise me that you'll stay away from Leyva, Brynna," he demands, reaching out to stroke my hair like he always did when I was a little girl. "Help an old man rest easy."
"Of course I'll stay away from Nazario Leyva." The promise scalds my tongue as it spills from my lips, searing into my mind with agonizing clarity. Stay away from Nazario Leyva. It's such a simple vow, and yet it feels like a betrayal—of myself, of the inexplicable pull I feel toward him, of the electric thrill that raced through me when he had his hands on my body, his amber eyes boring into mine.
But I force the words out anyway. Because disappointing my father, worrying him further after everything our family has been through, is impossible.
I'm still trapped in the facade of that perfect little princess. And I'm the one holding the damn doors of my cage closed.
But when my father smiles, I smile back, pretending that promise didn't hurt at all, that every cell in my body didn't rebel against giving it. I smile until he strolls out, confident that I'll be his obedient little daughter and keep my word.
I'm not nearly as confident. I think Naz may have embedded himself into my very being with the brush of his lips against mine tonight, stamping his dark temptation so deeply into my psyche that nothing will ever get him out again now.
And I don't have the first clue what to do about that.
Chapter Five
Naz
Nicolas was right. Someone on my payroll is a fucking rat. There's no denying it as I pour over the financial data spread across the top of my desk, scanning every detail. It doesn't add up.
I drum my fingers against the mahogany surface, my frustration growing as I pick out details that don't match. The Garcia account is missing two grand; the Alvarez shipment was off by a kilo. Another three grand is missing from the Bandari Fund. Someone is stealing from me.
Who? I mentally run through a list, trying to figure out who the fuck has a death wish.
Josef? Andrés? Camilo? Griffin? Aside from Nicolas, they're the four I trust most. Would any of the four betray me? Would they throw in with Rojas? With Sullivan?
Someone has.
This is precisely why I trust no one. Motherfuckers can't be trusted. They'll smile in your goddamn face while shoving a knife between your ribs. In this world, it's kill or be killed. And no one is fucking loyal.
I push back from my desk and stalk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown LA, cursing under my breath. Bright sunlight filters over the city below, reflecting off the cool blue water…softening it. It's a lie, though. Between the gangs, the mobs, and motherfuckers like me, this city is always on the brink of all-out war. It's just a powder keg ready to blow.
I can relate. I feel caged, murderous rage simmering just below the surface. I want to put my fist through someone's skull. Hunt down whoever betrayed me and paint the walls with their blood. Fucking desecrate their bones.
But I can't do that. Until I know every last detail of what they're doing, who is involved, and why, I need be logical, precise. But once I have all the pieces? I'll rip the fucking cancer from this organization with my own hands. No one will cross me again.
Cristo. I need to hit something. Break something. Fucking destroy.
Lombardi. I've been meaning to slit his miserable throat for days. Might as well put all this rage to use handling that situation.
No. I need to see her first.
I haven't set eyes on her in four days. I've been here, letting the anticipation build, letting her miss me…slowly going out of my goddamn mind.