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A burst of laughter erupts from the middle deck, and he grins wryly. “The tech geeks are having their warrior moment. You’d never know it was Bryce who blew the place up, from the way those girls are looking at Mickey and Pavel.”

I give a snort of laughter. “The Cardeñas crew?”

Roman’s smile fades. “Long gone. I’m guessing Juan and Rodrigo have some hard conversations ahead.”

“No shit.” I exhale heavily. “It takes some balls, to fake your death so convincingly your own son holds a funeral for you.”

“They work by a different code than us.” He shrugs. “Youknow the truly bizarre thing? Turns out that Juan is actually my mother’s cousin.”

“Rosa?” I stare at him in surprise.

“Yep.” Roman nods. “Juan remembers her, back before she ran away to America. He told me Rosa’s father was a real piece of work.”

“Christ.” I shake my head. “Next thing you know we’ll discover Pavel is your long-lost fucking brother.”

“Not a chance. That prick is Iranian, did you know that?”

I smile wryly. “Of course I fucking knew. I hired him, remember?”

He tilts his head in acknowledgment. “My people skills are for shit.”

I laugh quietly. “Yeah, they are. But for some reason, we all love you anyway.”

We look at each other for a long moment, then Roman claps my shoulder. “We’ll talk later,” he says. “For Chrissakes, go and have a shower. You’re still covered in blood.”

I’m still towelingoff when Abby walks into the suite, smiling tentatively.

Those fucking bruises.

They’re faded, but they’re still all I can see.

I drop my eyes.

“I can leave,” she says quietly. “If you need a minute.”

“No.” The word comes out more harshly than I mean. “No,” I say again, trying to modify my tone. “I don’t want you to leave, Skip.”

I don’t want you to leave ever again.

But before any of those conversations, there’s something I need to say, or else I’ll never be able to face her properly again.

I stand up, tying the towel at my waist. “It was me who beatyou, Abby.” I face her squarely as I say it, but my voice rasps so hard in my chest it hurts. “Before you went back into the compound. That’s why I made Rodrigo put a hood over your head. I didn’t want you to know it was me, but I couldn’t...” My voice cracks, and I have to force myself to finish the sentence. “I just couldn’t let that fucker lay his hands on you. I’m—”

I’m sorry,I was about to say. But I can’t.

What’s the fucking point insorry,after you’ve put your hands on the woman you love?

Abby watches me, her face unreadable.

Fuck.

I don’t blame her. I hate myself. I can only imagine how she feels.

And I always knew those bruises might well spell the end between us.

Still—so would lies. And I’m not doing those anymore, no matter what happens now.

“I wouldn’t tell my father about that, if I were you,” she says slowly. “He actually seems to like you, and I’d rather not have family drama at our wedding.”