Lace and Bullets(15)
“Now talk.” He sat down in the chair and waited.
This close, she could see the color differences in his eyes. They weren’t just gray; they were more blue mixed with steel. His short beard hid a scar on his chin she hadn’t noticed before and his cropped hair was almost as dark as her own.
She swallowed. There was so much she wanted to learn about this man. But she needed to run.
Mia exhaled and met his stare. “My father was a bad man. He withheld evidence, lied to the court, and put innocent people on trial and behind bars to up his conviction rate. He didn’t care about justice. He cared about winning.”
“Was he always like that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know? When I was little, he was just my dad. Always at work, never home. I never saw either of my parents. My mother made partner in her law firm when I was four.”
“Sounds rough.” She could tell he didn’t mean it.
“You try having three sets of nannies instead of parents.”
“What?”
Mia focused on the doorway past Damien’s head. “My parents couldn’t guarantee they would make it home at night. My father was first chair on capital murder trials. My mother was doing corporate deals worth billions.”
She didn’t know why she was spilling out the painful secrets of her childhood to a stranger. But what did she have to lose? He’d probably dump her at Anthony Marcelo’s feet in the morning. She would be dead in a matter of days.
“When I was three, they had an au pair suite built into the house and hired three different women to raise me. Every eight hours they changed shifts. Eight to four was Isabelle, four to midnight was Donna, and midnight to eight was Rebecca.”
“When did you see your parents?”
Mia ran her tongue over her lip. “Sometimes one of them would make it home on a Saturday. We might go to the park for an hour. Or have lunch.” She shifted on the chair. Suddenly she felt so very exposed.
Damien reached out and brushed her hair off her face. “You should still be grateful. You had a roof over your head. Food to eat. Clean clothes.”
Mia frowned. “You didn’t?”
He pulled back as if he’d been burned. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
Damien stared at her and for a moment, she saw the kid inside of him. The young, wide-eyed kid who hadn’t been cared for at all.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I never knew my parents. Grew up in foster care. In and out of juvie.”
“What’s that?”
“Juvenile detention.”
“Oh.” Mia leaned closer. “How’d you end up with the cartel?”
“They took us in. Fed us, clothed us. It was better than the streets.”
Mia frowned. “Who’s us?”
Damien stood up like a rocket. “Enough talking. I’ve got to take a piss. Don’t move.”
Mia watched him walk away. Part of her wanted to stay, get him to open up and share his life with her. She could see so much more than anger behind the wall he’d built around himself.
But while they had been talking, she’d gotten a hand free. It wasn’t time to fall for a hitman, no matter how vulnerable he seemed in the moment.
She had some serious running to do.
7
DAMIEN
Damien slammed his fist into the dresser. The whole piece of furniture rattled and wobbled and threatened to collapse. Just like his self-control.
Damn this woman. She’d gotten into his head. Turned on his feelings. Christ. When did he let that happen?
Feelings were for dead men. Men who didn’t have rap sheets and police files and blood on their hands. Feelings got you killed.
He paced back and forth in the bedroom, trying to shove it all out of his mind.
Her gentle voice slipped from her lips like silk. Her big brown eyes looked up at him like he was a person instead of a tool. He wanted to pin her body to the floor and ravage her.
Damien scrubbed his lips with his hand. He couldn’t get her taste off his skin. All strawberries and cream. Fucking innocence in a damn bottle. She was everything he hated. Everything he couldn’t have.
It didn’t matter that her childhood sucked. It wasn’t as bad as his.
Mia Davenport was his chance. He would take her to Marcelo and strike up a deal. The truth and his debts repaid for the only witness to the DA’s murder. The only person who knew the DA’s secrets. After that, Mia would be on her own.
The thought sent a shudder through him. Damien knew what they would do to her. He knew how far they would go to break her. He’d seen it first hand. First Marcelo would hook her on something good—heroin or meth.
Then he’d use it like bait. You do this baby, I’ll give you what you need. When Mia had been all used up, when there wasn’t even a shell of a girl left to abuse, he’d let her overdose and throw her out in the trash.