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“That’s why I’m calling. Leave Caleb alone.”
Her voice was steady, even if her pulse wasn’t. “He’s no one. Just a stranger who stepped in. There’s nothing between us.”
Her shoulder blades itched. Not a lie. Not the whole truth, either.
At least on her part. Even if they parted ways today, she had a feeling Caleb Varella would haunt her dreams for a long time.
Gia bit her lip and marshaled her courage before continuing. “I won’t let you kill another innocent man. If you don’t call off your soldiers, I’ll go to the police and tell them what happened that night.”
The memory still haunted her. The guilt clawed at her insides. Rather than do the right thing, she’d run.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,querida.”
So smooth. She’d almost believe him if she didn’t know better.
“You can stop pretending, Vincente, this phone isn’t tapped. Leave Caleb Varella alone. Leave the Navajo alone. If you do, I’ll keep my mouth shut. If you don’t…” She left the threat hanging.
Silence. Then a sigh. “Listen to how you speak to me. Such disrespect when all I have ever done is treat you like a queen.”
His voice turned ice cold. “Have you slept with him?”
“No.” Only in her dreams.
“Make sure it stays that way. Varella will be safe—as long as he stays out of my business, and you return to Miami.”
Liar.
“Give me two months. I have work commitments I can’t just ignore.”
The request was a long shot. Her contract was up in six weeks. If he actually agreed, she’d have two weeks to disappear before he expected her to return.
“Unacceptable. You will come home immediately.”
“One week,” she bargained. “I have patients here. People who rely on me. And if your men come near Caleb or anyone else, I’m going straight to the authorities.”
She hung up before he could make any further demands.
One week.
To either run, or stay and agree to serve as Caleb’s bait.
Because there was no way in hell she’d ever go back.
Her emotions already on a razor’s edge, Gia lost all the air in her lungs at the sight of Caleb in exam room two.
Long legs dangled over the table, his black leather jacket slung across the metal chair in the corner. His sheer size and the aura of controlled power he radiated made the sterile white walls close in, shrinking her vision until it took in only white cotton, denim, and gold flecks in dark eyes that watched her too closely.
“What’s wrong?”
The man missed nothing.
“Other than the fact you could have died today?” Her voice came out sharper than intended.
She gestured to his shirt, needing something for her hands to do besides shake. “Take it off.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His lips curved with lazy, lethal charm.
He tugged the t-shirt from his jeans and peeled it off, dropping it beside him on the table. “Look at you, giving orders like an officer.”