Page 58 of Bad Blood

Thalia opens her mouth to say something, and then quickly snaps it shut again.

If it’s an apology, she can save it. I’m pissed—and it’s not just because Santiago opened fire and destroyed my car. I would have been more suspicious if hehadn’ttried to take a shot at me.

It’s because he took a shot ather.

I keep seeing her face when the first bullet hit the sidewalk. It shattered something inside Thalia, more than when she was standing at an altar promising to honor and obey with her fingers crossed behind her back. She doesn’t approve of her father’s business practices any more than she approves of mine, but she still loves him. What happened back there was a violent turning point in a father-daughter relationship.

I should be fucking ecstatic about it. I should be swimming inDomPérignon. Wasn’t this my plan all along? To break that family apart, piece by piece? The deepest and most permanent cuts are always through the heart.

But I’m not.

Why the fuck am I not?

I glance across at her again. She’s chewing on her fingernail, head bowed. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re veering off course toward an unknown destination.

The tension finally snaps. She tries to open the passenger’s side door, her small hands fighting with a handle that won’t relent. Giving up, she lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Unlock it…Please.”

“I will when you tell me what happened back there.”

I follow the glide in her throat as she swallows, wondering what her skin would taste like if I followed that same route with my tongue.

“Someone fired a bullet that came within a couple inches of ruining my dress.” She glances at me, her lips tipping into a reluctant smile as she motions at the already-wrecked garment. “Oh wait… Too late.”

“I’m serious, Thalia.”

“What would you like me to say? That my father was there waiting for me? That when his tough love tactics didn’t work, he resorted to more drastic measures?” I can hear the vulnerability seeping through her cracks of confusion. “God, you must be loving this!”

Far from it.

“That’s not what—”

“Those bullets were meant foryou.” Her tone is sharp, but the false certainty woven through it is all too familiar. Children of criminals are so fucking proficient at lying, especially to themselves.

Shooting me a dirty look, she starts beating her fist against the passenger’s side window. “Unlock this door, Santi. You got what you wanted. At least let me go inside so I can lay down, close my eyes, and pretend it’s all a bad dream.”

Offering comfort isn’t a part of my skill set. I’m usually the one inflicting pain, not soothing it, but something compels me to reach over and tilt her face toward me as gently as possible.

“Let’s just say the celebration is on hold.”

“Why, because you feelguilty?” She jerks her head away, letting out a scornful laugh. “Can a Carrera even spell that word?”

She’s lashing out with good reason, but I’m not a reasonable man. She can insult me all she wants, but never my family.

That’s what I get for giving a shit.

Unlocking the doors, I climb out of the Aston Martin, slamming mine behind me. I make it all the way to the elevator before I feel her fingers close around my bicep. Just that small impact is enough to cause a short circuit in my brain.

Fire.

Her skin feels like fire burning mine.

Before I can react, she curses and quickly releases her hold. “Shit, I forgot… No touching.”

Silently, I reach for the call button, her shallow breaths falling into rhythm with the chaotic beat of my heart.

What the fuck is happening to me today?