Page 18 of Raphael

“Any day now,” he chuckled.

I grabbed my phone and continued on. I just couldn’t shake off the feeling that things weren’t going exactly the way the Feds planned or hoped. Of course, they refused to share information. I worried about how far my father’s reach was. If he managed to set the Tijuana Cartel free, they would come for me. And Gabriel.

The panic bubbled deep inside me but I forced myself to swallow it. It’d do me no good to lose my shit now.

I strode down the large, marble lobby, heading for the courtroom that would hold the trial. One of the agents waved me over and I met him halfway.

“What’s going on?” I asked with dread pooling in my stomach. Both of the agents attempted to keep their composure, but the look in their eyes spoke of panic.

“Bail has been set for Santiago Tijuana.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hissed. “Are you sure? There was supposed to be no bail.”

They both shook their heads. “No, he was bailed out.”

I wasn’t surprised. Disgusted, yes. But not surprised. I felt it in the pit of my stomach the whole week.

“You fucking idiots,” I spat out. “What happened to no bail?”

“We have to move you and your son,” Daniel, the older agent, responded, unaffected by my insult.

“Move me where?” I snapped. “These men have connections everywhere. It was your job to keep them behind bars.”

“We need to leave now,” Daniel insisted.

If these two thought I’d entrust my son to them, they truly were idiots.

“Just give me a minute,” I grumbled, agitation evident in my voice. I waited until the two agents walked away from me, their eyes darting back to me every so often.

Once there was enough distance between us, I started walking down the large, long hallway, toward the courtroom where the hearing was designated to take place, and all the while, contemplating taking the back exit to get the hell out of here.

The same awareness rushed down my spine and a large shadow approached to my right when I lost my footing.

“Fucking heels,” I cursed, my hand instinctively wrapping around an offered arm and gripping the sleeve of expensive material.

He chuckled. “Not a fan of heels?”

Was it wrong that the way the words rolled off his tongue in a sensual way did something to my insides? I could hear his Hispanic roots in each syllable and the depth of his voice. Yet, I didn’t panic. Something about his voice was soothing. Familiar even.

“Fuck, no,” I grumbled.

Straightening up, I glanced to my right and his gaze caught mine. Heavy. Blue. And very familiar.

Something burned in his eyes that spoke of a harsh life and ruthlessness. Cruelty. His whole presence touched my skin with a dangerous awareness and recognition slammed into me with violence and terror.

Aurora was right. Gabriel looked just like the Santos men. Because there was no mistake who stood in front of me. Raphael Santos. In his full glory.

I held my breath as I received the full weight of his stare. Did he find out about Gabriel? Did he come for us?

Remaining still, I stared at that beautiful face. Those eyes that held glimmers of light, pulling me in so I could drown in them. The devil with blue eyes.

Diablo.

The word screamed in the back of my head. Why? I had no idea. My eyes flickered to his hands and that was when I saw it. The tattoo on his hand. Diablo.

Something pricked in the back of my mind. A hazy memory. A dance.

I shook my head. It couldn’t be. It was a ridiculous notion. This man resembled Gabriel - that was where the familiarity started and ended.