Page 51 of Devil’s Azalea (Nightshades #3)

I wrap my arm around her shoulder and press a soft kiss to the top of her head. “You’re right,” I admit grudgingly.

“Besides the obvious fact that I’m in danger, we still have issues of our own to resolve,” she says softly. “You say you didn’t kill my father, and you know what? I believe you now. But I still need to know the truth of what happened that night. You know what happened, don’t you?”

My body goes rigid at her quiet question. I do know what happened. I was right fucking there. And even though she’s a little angry at Stacey right now, I know she loves the darned woman and trusts her with her whole being.

Telling her the woman she considers a mother killed her father would destroy her and make her doubt herself. Would shatter her world in ways I’m not sure she could recover from.

Some truths don’t need to be spoken.

“It happened so long ago,” I say carefully. “Can’t you just let it go?”

She lifts her head, looking up at me like I’m crazy. “I’ve been lost in this cloud of revenge against you because I thought you killed my dad. And now I know I was wrong. I think I deserve to know the truth—the whole truth.”

I sigh and rub her shoulder gently, trying to buy myself time to think. “You’re right. But it’s a heavy topic. We don’t need to let it ruin today’s happy moment.”

“ Rafael .”

The warning in her voice tells me she’s not going to let this go easily. But I’m not ready to watch her world crumble. Not tonight.

“You waited this long already to know the truth. What’s a few more days? Be patient, amorina .”

She narrows those beautiful eyes at me, clearly frustrated by my deflection. But she snuggles back into my chest anyway, her body melting against mine. “I don’t see why you can’t just tell me right now,” she grumbles under her breath.

I respond by pressing a lingering kiss to her temple, pouring all the love and protection I can’t voice into the gesture.

We fall into silence after that, and within minutes, her breathing evens out. She’s fallen asleep, probably exhausted from everything that’s happened today.

Careful not to wake her, I ease out from under her and pad through the living area to the kitchen. There, I pull open one of the cabinet doors where I stashed my work laptop earlier this morning.

I place it on the countertop and hit the power button. While I wait for it to boot, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and gulp it down in a few swallows. The cold liquid feels good against my throat and helps clear my head a bit.

When the laptop finishes booting, I check the clock and feel a surge of satisfaction when I see it’s close to the time I had given SP yesterday. I log into the website and go straight to our chat, my shoulders relaxing when I see he’s already online.

ME

Hey, find anything good for me?

SP

Congratulations on your nuptials. And yes, I did. You didn’t ask me to, but I took the liberty of looking into the man who shot at your wife today.

He was actually at the wedding? I sent him an e-invite. I only sent that to three people—and I know two of them. I make a mental note to check the CCTV to see who used one of those invites to get in. Is the mystery surrounding his identity finally about to be revealed?

I push that aside for now.

ME

Tell me.

SP

So, I traced the DNA material you sent to me a few days ago.

All but two came up blank. After some more research, I discovered they were special agents in the bureau.

As for the waiter who attacked you tonight, his print came up blank too.

Which leads me to believe he might be connected to the previous attack.

In other words, the attack tonight was also from the bureau?

I already suspected as much, which is why her little friend remains suspicious to me.

But getting this confirmation knocks the wind out of my solar plexus. Because for them to be blatantly attacking Emilia like this means they got their order from someone high up. Like the director.

This discovery, along with what happened ten years ago, will completely destroy Emilia if she ever learns the truth.

It reminds me of SP’s cryptic message from a few days before the attack on my wife. About how the FBI director isn’t on the straight and narrow as she should be.

What the hell does she want? Why does she keep involving herself in all this? Why is she trying to hurt Emilia? My wife trusts her. What the fuck is her endgame?

The questions burn in my mind as I thank SP and tell him to be online at the same time tomorrow in case he finds anything else.

After I log out and shut down my laptop, I fire off a quick text to Enzo asking for the CCTV footage from today’s wedding, specifically anyone who used an e-invite to gain entry.

With that handled, I make my way back to the bedroom and carefully slide into bed .

As soon as my head touches the pillow, my wife shifts in her sleep—rolling to my side and draping her leg across my thigh. I grin as I wrap my arms around her.

Yeah, I could definitely get used to this.