Page 135 of A Lethal Game of Trust

He nodded and walked out the way he came.

“Leonie, my dad wouldn’t—”

“Don’t insult me!” she shouted, gun raised, aimed at me again. I didn’t budge, didn’t so much as blink. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last seven months?”

“I don’t know,” I shouted back, “because you shut me out!”

“I followed the trail. Every person linked to one of thoseaccounts that wired money to Firdman’s account. All the way from Bristow Buildings to La Baranda. I tortured and killed until I got exactly the proof I needed. Do you think I want it to be him? Do you think I wanted to hate you? To know that this is only going to be more complicated when—”

“I think you’ve got a lot going on,” I snapped because she couldn’t finish that sentence. “Let me do this for you. Let me just kill Firdman—”

“He’s mine!” she screamed and stepped forward, gun raised, walking me back into the wall.

Heavy boots sounded from all directions, then, “Castillo, put down the gun.”

She didn’t react, only breathed heavily as she pressed up against me, the gun barrel to my temple. Where she had kissed so many times before.

Moving my head to see around her, I told the guards, “Lower your guns. If you hurt her, you’re dead.”

They looked at each other, and the one in front argued, “But, sir—”

“You can stay and watch,” I said, looking down at her deep-sea eyes. “She loves an audience.”

That twinkle was back in her eyes and she breathed a laugh.

“You going to kill me, Leonie?” I asked and cupped her cheek. “Then do it.”

51

Stand Down

Leonie

Everything was twisted; I hated and loved him. I saw my whole future with him, but more than anything, I saw myself putting a bullet through his skull.

Then he whispered, lips a breath away from mine, “Take your anger out on me, lioness.”

Adorable. So I slapped him hard across the face.

He reached, kicked out my leg and span me to shove my back into the wall, my hand held above, trying to keep my grip on the gun.

Fucker.

Rocco laughed behind us, and when I looked over Dom’s shoulder to face him, he had his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. “She won’t kill you, Dom. She loves you too much.”

“She doesn’t seem so sure,” Dom snapped, but as he spoke, I stopped fighting.

If I went for him again, there was no telling what the SWAT team would do.

His eyes roved my face and I couldn’t look back at him. I glanced away until he released me and then put the gun back in the holster around my leather jeans.

“Let’s sit. You, me, Rocco. Let’s sit and talk this through,” he begged, his thumb stroking my cheek. I tried not to melt into his touch or his smell of bergamot, but I inhaled and became lost in it for a moment. It had become a comfort. It had been That Night in this kitchen too.

He’d hardly changed in seven months. His stubble was longer than usual, his dimples harder to spot. But other than that, it was like my absence meant nothing.

Twenty-nine looked good on him.

And finally, taking him in, I could sob. I could sob for what we could have and what we could no longer have.