Page 125 of Devil's Claim

“Five other men are on duty tonight, boss,” Benito said.

“Go home, Benito. We’ve had a difficult few days and more are in the future.”

“I’ll do so in the morning. I just need to check with a few informants to ensure there are no retaliation efforts on the immediate horizon.”

I clapped him on the shoulder. He was a good man, someone I could trust. It had never seemed as important as it did right now. “Tomorrow we locate Fassi.”

“I mean no disrespect, Kruz, but we aren’t miracle workers, and I think you need some time to decompress.”

Turning my head slightly, I almost burst into laughter. “Are you trying to handle me, Benito?”

“No, sir.” He glanced at the light on the second floor. “I’m trying to remind you that taking a day to yourself won’t kill you or anyone else.” He rubbed the back of his neck, twisting it until we both heard a popping sound. “Plus, I’m getting too old for this shit.”

Laughing, I shook my head. “Maybe you and me both. Fine. We talk late tomorrow. But if you hear anything from the streets, I need to know immediately.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He walked away and for some reason, I hesitated. Maybe because I was covered in blood, the stench of death and sweat permeating my nostrils. Hopefully, Christine would be asleep and I could grab a quick shower. As I peered up at the window, somehow, I knew that wasn’t the case.

Just walking inside felt different tonight. It wasn’t just the late hour or that I’d gone on a rampage to destroy anyone involved with attempting to take Christine’s life. The strange sense of sadness came from a much deeper place.

I locked the door, reactivating the security system and listened for any sounds. There were none. How many times had I walked into the house late at night, not thinking anything about the silence enveloping the large space? Hundreds. Never had I felt the strange sense that this was home while experiencing a precarious sense of foreboding.

As if I was teetering on the edge of disaster.

I wasn’t the kind of man who believed in premonitions, and I certainly hadn’t bought karma was a factor in my life, yet everything seemed different.

Remaining quiet, I headed up the stairs, still listening for any telltale signs Maverick was awake. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me soaked in blood. As I passed by his room, I resisted the longing to check on him. The kid was far too perceptive. He’d sense I was in the room within seconds.

Huffing lightly, I finally realized the light wasn’t coming from the bedroom where Christine had been sleeping. The light was coming from my room. She’d refused to sleep there, preferring the room I’d selected for her. I’d found her curled up in the chair by the window when I’d arrived from the airport.

With slow and easy steps, I headed toward the partially cracked door, pushing it open with a single finger.

While the oversized room took up the entire side of the house, she sat at the front window, which provided a view of the driveway. I hadn’t made a single sound, yet she knew the second I’d walked in, her entire body bristling. As I closed the door, she turned around slowly.

Exhaling, the sound was exaggerated and another rush of emotions settled in. So fucking beautiful. Dressed in a soft pink robe, she no longer appeared the fierce warrior I’d learned she’d become. The woman had shown no fear in dealing with the inspectors or Alcarez’s men.

After her gaze fell to the floor, she pressed her fingers across her mouth. There was surprise in her eyes if not a significant amount of anger. She looked away and it was clear to see she was catching her breath.

She threw her hand out while I was still a couple of feet away. When she lowered her hand, she dragged her tongue across her bottom lip nervously. “I was worried.”

“I told you I’d be fine.”

“You’ve told me a lot of things.”

“Any of them lies?” I dared take a step closer and she backed against the wall. Was she that angry with me? Or had the emotions returned to hate?

“No. You don’t lie to me.”

“Then what is it? Are you angry with me that I left?”

“No. You had to do your job.”

“It wasn’t just about my job, Christine.” The ache deep within was worse than a kick in the balls.

“Then what was it about?”

“You.”