Page 15 of Gabriel (Legacy of Heathens #4)

Amara

T he engine growled beneath us as Gabriel steered his black Jeep down the dusty road, the jungle thinning into barren red earth as the last streaks of sunlight died out.

I kept the gun close on my lap, wary of the silence.

It felt too still.

I had another two hours before my time expired. I debated whether to send a text to Elira now or wait until I was away from Santos.

He cast a glance my way, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Not many people stroll into my territory covered in blood and flashing a blade like they own the place,” he said, voice smooth as aged whiskey.

I snorted. “I like to leave an impression. Something to be remembered by.”

He chuckled, darkly amused. “As if anyone could forget you.”

I looked sideways, not surprised. Gabriel never played coy when it came to his interest in me.

“You did,” I said before I could stop myself. The bitterness laced the words like venom. “A whole eight months since Revelation, and nothing from you. Not even a peep.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t see me or hear me, but I saw you.”

“Why?” I questioned. I wanted to hear him admit it was because he was after Jet.

“You told me to stay away. I did.”

I crossed my arms, fingers twitching near the knife strapped to my thigh. “Since when do you listen to anyone?”

His grin widened, teeth flashing. “When a woman says she’d rather become a nun than touch me? Yeah, that’s where I draw the line.”

I scoffed.

He raised a brow, the grin never fading. “What? Would you rather I hadn’t? That I’d taken you against your will?”

I blinked, jaw tightening. “Conversations with you are always so educational.”

Gabriel tapped the steering wheel, amused. “Glad you think so. Now, tell me, what had you so pissed before I showed up? Well, you know, aside from the filth being perpetrated against innocent women. Did you miss your morning coffee or something?”

Despite myself, I smirked. “Maybe I don’t drink coffee.”

“You also like tequila, sharp objects, and chaos. Honestly, it’s like a Colombian spirit got stuck in an Italian body. I’m still waiting to see the Irish traits.”

I didn’t bother telling him that I took after my mothers, two women who raised me with sharp edges and sharper instincts.

“You might wait for a long time for those,” I said in a dry voice.

Of course there was no denying my Italian and Irish roots. The DiLustro side, with their ties to the Italian Mafia, and the Cullen one, whose roots run deep in the Irish underworld.

The sun dipped behind the hills, casting long shadows across the cracked road. I inhaled slowly, steadying the thoughts clawing through my head.

“So, Santos, what’s the real reason you’re helping me out?”

He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I don’t want to be responsible for something happening to you on my turf. The last thing I need is your family showing up and burning everything down.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Scared?”

He shot me a sideways look, smirk still intact. “Hardly. I just don’t need the headache.”

I narrowed my eyes, done with circling the point. “What do you have going on with Jet? You’re hiding something, and if it involves my brother, I can’t be held accountable for how I deal with it.”

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” he replied, tone dropping, suddenly lethal. “But you are hiding plenty.”

“Me?” This was the exact reason I always kept my distance from Gabriel Santos. He could see deep into my soul with those blue eyes of his. It was dangerous, but also so tempting to get lost in.

“Yes, you.” A chill crept up my spine as he glanced at me again. “Don’t mistake my fondness for you as weakness, Amara.”

I narrowed my eyes but held my tongue. Some things were better left unsaid. For now.

The Jeep jolted over a pothole, the suspension groaning as a cloud of dust spiraled in the headlights.

I kept my gaze fixed on the windshield, but Gabriel’s presence lingered in my periphery like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

His words still echoed, low and sure, curling in my mind.

Don’t mistake my fondness for you as weakness, Amara .

I’d always liked that about Santos, if nothing else. He traded in riddles and veiled threats, sure, but I got the sense he wasn’t lying, at least not deliberately.

Which was the reason I was still no closer to getting answers about Jet. He hadn’t denied knowing I was here for information—hell, he was the one who brought it up first—but he was doing a fantastic job of dancing around the topic.

“So,” I said, slicing through the silence before it thickened into something heavier, “you’ve got problems on your territory. Do you encounter traffickers often?”

Gabriel snorted. “You expect me to spill my secrets while you hoard yours? Communication, preciosa , is a two-way street in a relationship.”

I smirked. “This isn’t a relationship.”

He shrugged, eyes steady on the road. “But it’s still communication.”

I leaned back, exhaling slowly. “You’re so…” I searched for the right word. “Different.” Infuriating .

“So are you, Amara. I like that about you. I like everything about you.” He glanced my way, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “You’re a strong, independent woman who can hold her own in any situation. Stop hiding it to make the world more comfortable.”

I wasn’t hiding it exactly, but men often felt inferior when faced with it. Not Gabriel though, and a part of me hated that he seemed to like every part of me. Especially because I’d have to kill him if he was after Jet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.”

I laughed, a dry bark that echoed inside the vehicle. “You’ve got some balls on you, Santos.”

He smiled, slow and dangerous. “Maybe one day you’ll admit you want to explore them further.”

I shifted in my seat, heart thudding like a drum in my ribs.

“Yeah, keep dreaming,” I muttered. “Your balls and hot body aren’t on my agenda.”

“Yet,” he drawled, then shrugged again like it meant nothing. But I didn’t miss the muscle in his jaw clenching.

I turned toward the window. The jungle blurred past, too dark now to make anything out. Whether it be his presence next to me or my body’s way of staying awake, memories I’d kept buried surged—sharp, hot, and inescapable.

I was eighteen—right before I started college—the first time I killed someone. It wasn’t in the stupid, scrappy way kids threw punches after school, but deliberate and violent.

Late afternoon’s humid, sticky-hot air clung to my skin as my Converse hit the pavement of the Boston streets. I could smell sunblock in the air and hear the clatter of bikes rattling on the streets.

But all I could focus on was the restlessness churning in my bones. It was my weekend with Mother Liana, but she wasn’t here and neither were Jet and Elira. They’d be back today.

I passed the Cathedral of Holy Cross, the outer walls of the church blending in with the city.

I decided to cut through the abandoned alley behind the church.

Just as I turned the corner, I spotted two boys.

No, not boys. These were men—half-drunk and swaggering, laughing and sputtering words I couldn’t hear at the girl who couldn’t have been older than fourteen.

I saw red, and before I registered what I was doing, I moved. Or maybe I made the conscious choice because a calmness had washed over me.

I spotted a shattered bottle neck glittering on the hot pavement and reached for it, picking it up. It almost felt like flipping a switch.

I strode toward them calmly, acting like I belonged there.

They spotted me, their breaths stinking of cheap beer and machismo. They laughed when I shoved them. They even went as far as to say I looked mighty pretty when I was mad.

Then the glass met one of the men’s necks. The sound it made was soft, wet, and so wrong. Yet I felt no remorse. He was no longer laughing, and I watched as his blood hit the pavement, sizzling in the heat, the scent of rust, gasoline, and death permeating the air.

I turned to the other guy, and before he could run off, I yanked him by his dirty hair and knocked him unconscious.

The girl whimpered, but the sound was almost drowned out by the pulse in my ears.

“Go home,” I instructed, my voice calm and distant. “Tell nobody.”

I didn’t have to tell her twice. She took off running, never looking back.

Without another look at the scene, I walked away. I threw the glass in a dumpster, and once I got back to Mother Liana’s, I scrubbed my hands raw in the sink of the guest bathroom. My eyes locked on the mirror, the petite, nonthreatening woman staring back at me, and it dawned on me then.

This was my asset: appearing nonthreatening to everyone, so they’d never see me coming.

A smile curved my lips just as I heard the commotion outside, the familiar voices of Mother Liana and my siblings ringing in the air. I quickly dried off my hands and slipped out of the bathroom, eager to see them.

I hugged them tightly with an innocent smile on my face while my heart hammered under my ribs with the newfound discovery of the side I didn’t know I had.

I was more than capable of leaving blood and chaos in my wake.

Much like today.

I hadn’t thought twice before taking those men down; there was no doubt in my mind they deserved it. Besides, Mother Liana and my parents had taught me that regret was useless once the past was set in stone. Its only purpose was to teach us lessons.

“You’re quiet,” he said. “You okay?”

“Are you not put off by a woman who doesn’t mind killing people?”

He hummed softly, unconcerned. “Should I be?”

“I could kill you as easily as I could kiss you or draw my next breath,” I said, the words slipping out too fast.

He seemed troubled by my tone that was colder and sharper than a blade, but his grin was all teeth and danger. “Please make sure you kiss me before you kill me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Typical. A man hears one word and misses the rest.”

“Oh, I heard the killing part,” he said with a chuckle. “I just prefer to focus on the positives. And I like strong women.”

I snorted. “I can guarantee you that I won’t take your request into consideration.”

“Why?” he asked nonchalantly. “Afraid you aren’t a good kisser?”

I arched my brow. “Oh, I’m good at both kissing and killing.”

He flicked me a glance, his eyes locking on my lips for a heartbeat before he returned his attention to the road.

“I’m sure you excel at everything. Although, fair warning: if you kiss me, I won’t let you go through with the killing part.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t ask for permission.”

He laughed, low and quiet. “Oh, preciosa . It’ll be so much fun when it happens, but try not to fall too hard for me. One of us falling hard is enough.”

I let out an exasperated breath but couldn’t keep a smile from forming on my lips.

It was both the right and the worst thing to say. Especially here, in this lawless stretch of jungle where alliances could get you killed and feelings were liabilities. A well-placed word, a flicker of affection, and someone could reel you in and gut you for information.

Like I was about to do some fishing for intel.

“So, you and Jet…” I started slowly, watching him from the corner of my eye. “Have you two done any business together?”

His shoulders tensed. “No.”

Gone was the charming, playful Colombiano and in its stead was the cold, calculating mobster.

“But you two have met, right?” I continued, keeping my tone light.

“Yes.”

“What kind of contact do you two have?”

“None.”

The air in the vehicle shifted, turning cold and somber. Yeah, Santos was definitely hiding something.

Turned out, Santos didn’t know me as well as he thought, because if he did, he’d be running the other way. Once I decided on something, I never gave up, and I protected those I loved above all else.

“I need to take care of some things in Buenaventura,” I said, feigning boredom. “But I probably have time for dinner before I take off.” He stilled, eyeing me suspiciously, so I added, “Restaurant of your choosing.”

Worst case I would get a meal and thank him for the drive that would have otherwise taken me hours. Best case? I’d uncover the truth about him and Jet.

There were truths left for me to unravel, and I planned to get to the bottom of it.

If getting close to Santos was the key and seduction opened doors, I wasn’t above using it.