“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe for now.” Damien stepped up to her, soothing noises coming from his throat.
“I—I don’t know that. I don’t know anything anymore.” Mia gulped back sobs that threatened to swallow her whole. She wasn’t a crier. She didn’t break down. Not ever.
Damien’s hands ran up and down her arms. Thick hands. Hands covered in scars and tattoos and dried blood.
They shouldn’t be comforting. He shouldn’t be anything but a terrifying monster to her. And yet…every swipe of his thumb up and down her arm soothed her.
Mia snuffed back a mass of tears and focused on the floor between their feet. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t have any family. No friends to speak of…And you…You’re just planning on throwing me away.”
“No.” His grip tightened on her arm. “I would never do that. Now that I know you…I…”
Damien brushed a clump of matted hair off her face and tapped his finger beneath her chin. She looked up into his eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this life. I never should have put you in my car.”
She blinked and Damien rubbed a tear from her cheek. “There’s no going back, is there?”
His eyes darkened like thick smoke. “I can’t keep you safe if you go home. Marcelo will come for you.”
“Will he kill me?”
“Worse.” He traced the edge of her cheek and she clenched her jaw to keep from leaning into his hand. “He’ll use you to get to me.”
She thought of Rocco and shuddered. “How many women has that man abused?”
Damien’s lips thinned. Pain lurked behind the surface. “Too many.”
“We need to stop him.”
“It’s not that easy.” Damien let her go.
The loss of his touch sent a chill to her bones. “There has to be someone we could trust. Someone who would help bring Marcelo down.”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Damien shook his head. “Marcelo runs Wellington. The cops. The lawyers. Shit, even some of the judges. They’re all in his pocket. If he’s not selling them drugs, he’s giving them girls or bankrolling their election campaigns.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“You’re naïve.”
Mia slumped down onto the bed. Her borrowed jeans were covered in dirt, the too-big T-shirt was ripped in a million places. Her feet ached, half her fingernails were broken, and she couldn’t go home.
Not until Marcelo was either put behind bars or put out of his misery.
All because she’d tried to steal her father’s file. She covered her face with her hands. “I’m not this kind of person, Damien. I can’t do this. I can’t turn into a fugitive.”
“I’ll start a shower.”
Mia sniffed. “Okay.”
Damien stalked into the bathroom. The sounds of running water made her feet move of their own accord.
She stumbled into the tiny room. It wasn’t much. But there was a shower and soap and shampoo. It would get the job done.
Damien moved toward the door, but Mia reached out and grabbed his arm. She knew it was foolish and weak, but she couldn’t help it. She waited until he looked her in the eye.
“I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”
His brow creased. He didn’t move.
“Please, Damien.”
“Rogers.”
She blinked.
“My full name. It’s Damien Rogers.” He stepped closer and shut the bathroom door.
Mia smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
His hands found the hem of her sweatshirt and twisted the fabric. “I should stay outside.”
“No.”
A rumble sounded from deep in his chest. “I’m not a gentle man, Mia. I don’t do easy or kind.” His hands landed hot on her belly and she shuddered.
“I don’t want gentle. I want you.” They were all kinds of wrong for each other. Opposite in so many ways.
But he did something to her heart when he looked at her. She’d spent so many years putting up walls and shutting everyone out, but this man could scale them like they were three feet tall.
He saw through all her defenses to the real her. The vulnerable woman who never let herself feel or love or take a chance. She’d learned the hard way what happened when she did that.
No amount of love could change the way her father felt about her. Cold indifference. That’s all he’d ever given. But Damien…
She slipped her hands beneath his shirt and over his taut skin. Her fingers roved over the grooves of his muscles, up and around the tattoos on his skin. He burned.
“You’ll regret this.” He tore the sweatshirt from her body.