Page 62 of Liar

“A man I respected like a father.”

Respected, not loved.

“He took me in and off the streets after my parents were killed. Cleaned me up, taught me how to fight, and put me to work.”

“Wait. Your parents were killed?”

“Murdered. Executed.”

Dios mío.

“Did you find out who did it?”

He nods slightly. “Your brother and I have more in common than you think.”

I gasp. “You killed him?”

“Them. Yes. It took a few years to hunt them down.”

“Good.”

His lips twitch. Did he think to shock me?

“And the man who died?”

He narrows his eyes on me as if debating whether or not to confide in me. After a brief pause, he shakes his head, then mutters, “I should head back inside.”

I place a firm hand on his thigh. “But you won’t.”

“No.” He’s quiet for a few seconds before he begins to speak. “He was a good man. A policeman, who never took bribes or sold out to the organizations. I became part of his family by accident. His son, Antonio, was my friend at school. Always defending the less fortunate, the weak, just like his father.”

“I can’t imagine you ever being weak.”

He offers me a tight smile. “No. I learned early on that to survive, you had to fight. I was always in trouble. Headed toward a life of crime. A piece of shit that you’d scrape off your shoe.” I stiffen as he catches a lock of my hair with his finger and coils it around and around, ensnaring me. “He always said that you protect the soft.”

I’m speechless. It feels like he’s talking about me.

“He abandoned police work after his daughter was killed.”

Something in his tone makes me wonder if he liked this girl. I can feel the green-eyed devil stirring inside me. I bite my lip, hard. Don’t say it. Dios, don’t ask.

“Were you in love?” I blurt out.

“If you call it that. Young love.”

My throat tightens. I can’t breathe. I brought this on myself, and now his honest answer tears me apart.

He withdraws his arm and sits forward on the bench, preparing to stand. No matter how much it hurts, I don’t want this moment of truth to end.

Because, when it does—and it will when he withdraws back into being the Boss, the man everyone fears, a person no one but myself truly knows—I want a guarantee he’ll be thinking of me.

And he will.

I’m going to make sure of it.

“Wait,” I murmur, nervous yet fierce in my determination.

Our eyes lock. His full of question. Mine filled with something else.