Page 18 of Chicago Sin

The back door shuts. I wait, my shaking intensifying as the possibilities fly through my mind.

What’shappeningwhat’shappeningwhat’shappening?

The closet door flies open, and I blink at the sudden light. Armando’s face comes into focus. His brows lower when he looks at me. “Aw, baby. Did you think I was going to leave you in here?” He thumbs away the tears under my left eye.

Did I? Not really. I just didn’t like being tied up and standing in a dark closet. Feeling helpless.

He drags me forward, out of the closet and works the corner of tape free over my upper lip. “I’m sorry for this.” He yanks it all off in one pull. A strangled cry erupts as the tape leaves my lips.

“You okay?”

“No,” I snap. “Let me go.” My demand sounds way more watery than firm.

“Sorry, Flowers. That’s not possible.” He pulls me into my workshop. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to clean up your shop, and you’re going to stay where I put you and not make a sound. Can you do that, or do I need to put you back in the closet?”

I’m tempted—so tempted—to knee him in the balls. Except I just saw what this man is capable of. He fought a man armed with a gun and a knife, and he won. There’s no way it would go well for me.

He thumbs away the tears under my right eye. “Be cool, Flowers, and we won’t have any problems. Okay?”

“I don’t want you here.” It’s a dumb thing to say, but it’s true. I want him to leave. I want him out of my shop. My life. My reality.

I think I’m going to puke.

I wish this evening never happened.

“Feeling’s mutual, Flowers.” He pulls back the stool at my desk, which is essentially in the hallway where he can see me from the front room and pushes me into it.

“It’s Hannah.” I turn to face him as he gets a broom and dustpan out of the closet and moves swiftly into the shop. “But you know that.”

I’m a little bitter that his speaking my name was my downfall. If I hadn’t hesitated when he called my name, I would’ve made it out the back door.

“Hannah.” His back is to me. He sweeps up the broken pots and soil with swift, deft movements. “You own the place now.”

I watch the muscles in his back ripple each sure stroke of the broom. I shouldn’t be flattered that he knows things about me. And really, it’s not like he knows something earth-shattering. It’s a basic fact everyone in his organization knows. Yet it makes my pulse quicken.

“Armando.”

The sound of his name makes his head snap up and brings his gaze to mine. My stomach drops away. He’s as breathtaking as I remembered him, except so very serious now. There’s no hint of a smile on his face anymore. None of the charm and ease. And the eyes…

Compassion weasels in.

Because his eyes look ancient.

“You remembered.”

I shrug like he never starred in a hundred of my darkest fantasies. “You remembered mine, too. Where have you been?” My voice sounds rusty.

Shutters close behind his eyes, and he turns back to his work. “Prison. Just out.”

A shiver runs through me. Prison. Josie and I didn’t think of that possibility.

“Was that your… first time since getting out?” It would explain why he was an animal when I kissed him.

At first, I think he’s not going to answer. He ignores me, dumping the contents of the dustpan into the garbage. Then he mutters, “Yeah.”

I’m simultaneously pleased and destroyed by that. I guess I wanted to believe he was just that attracted to me. I mean, he did remember my name.

I am such a fool.