We didn’t speak again. I lay on the island, catching my breath as the refrigerator door slammed, followed by the sound of a bottle cap hitting the floor. Speechless, I stared at the ceiling, listening to Mateo chug a beer while I gathered what was left of my self-respect.

I told myself it was a good thing he put a stop to what was happening between us. Too many mistakes had been made to cross that line. Regardless of who held the most blame, Mateo and I were forbidden from the moment we met. We should’ve known it would come to this.

By the time he chucked the bottle into the trash, I’d already slid off the island and was watching him, wishing he’d say something—anything. Instead, he motioned for me to follow him and then disappeared down a darkened hallway. I rocked back on my heels, debating whether to trust him or run for the door. Unfortunately, I had nowhere else to go. Sucking in a deep breath, I fumbled my way down the hall and hesitated at the door.

“Well, are you just going to stand there all night, or do you plan on coming inside?” Mateo leaned over the bed, his dark hair framing his face as he ripped the comforter halfway down. He’d already taken off his jacket, exposing the roped muscles in his arms.

I motioned toward the sleigh bed that was covered by a comforter so thick I swore it called my name. “Are you turning this down for me?”

It pained me to give in, but after a full day at the cantina and a night of chaos, fatigue won the battle.

“No.” Holding my eye, he reached over his shoulder and pulled off his T-shirt from the back. “I’m turning it down for me, but feel free to do the same when you get in.”

His chest was a litany of colorful ink, a living work of art drawn over hardened planes of muscle. It was all I could do not to stare. “You’re not sleeping on the couch?”

A clang of metal snapped my eyes back to his face. I tried to remember how to breathe as he unbuckled his belt. His gaze darkened, a closed-off stare holding me prisoner while he unzipped his pants and slid them down his legs. “Why would I do that when there’s a bed right here?”

“Because that’s what a gentleman is supposed to do for a lady.” I tried to sound unaffected as he stripped down to his tight black boxer briefs. As much as I commanded my eyes to look anywhere else, they had a mind of their own.

“Good thing I’m not a gentleman and you’re no lady.”

“Excuse me?” Popping a hand on my hip, I redirected my shock toward his insult. “You’ve got the first part right, but I’m most certainly a lady, you—”

“Leighton?”

“Hmmm?”

He pointed two fingers at his waist then dragged them toward his face. “Eyes up here.”

Shit! Was I still looking at his cock?

“Fine,” I huffed, snatching a pillow off the bed. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I never saw him move. One minute, I hugged the pillow to my chest, and the next, he had me face down on the bed with my wrists twisted like a pretzel.

“I don’t think so.” His challenge sent a chill up my spine. “Look, you may not think much of me anymore, but I gave Val my word I’d look out for you until we clear this thing up.”

I strained my neck, gaping at him in shock. “You want me to sleep with you?”

“As I recall, you used to enjoy it.” Mateo’s words woke something wildly primitive in me. He was right. I did enjoy it, but fear and the knowledge of who he was clouded the memory. A low chuckle rumbled from his bare chest, and he patted the mattress beside my head.

I considered putting up a fight, but figured, why waste the energy? We were both rational adults, and rational adults could manage to sleep in a bed together without having sex.

Right?

Replacing the pillow, I climbed under the covers and pulled them up to my chin. Mateo crossed his arms and raised a slanted eyebrow at my blanket cocoon. “You’re sleeping in your clothes?”

“Yep.”

Shrugging, he climbed in beside me and rolled on his side, his leg draped dangerously close to mine. “Suit yourself.”

“You said you gave Val your word you’d watch out for me,” I mused, staring at the ceiling, while trying to block out the thought of his naked skin next to mine. “Did you mean Valentin Carrera?”

“I’m not discussing this with you, Leighton.”

“Are you going to tell Brody everything?” I did my best not to flinch while waiting for his answer.

“About you bugging his apartment and planning to sell us all out to the DEA to save your ass?”

“The way you say it makes it sound way worse than it is.”

He snorted. “You mean out loud?” Mateo’s gaze briefly lingered on my face before he let out a frustrated sigh. “Provided you’re straight with me, no, I won’t say anything. It would just put you in more danger, which compromises the whole reason I’m here.”

“But doesn’t that go against some sort of cartel code?” I asked.

“I’ll answer to Val when the time comes. Until then, as long as you run every move you make by me before you make it, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

I nodded and rolled over. Silence was my only line of defense because I was too far in to back out now. I had to play both sides as far as I could in this twisted chess game before one of them checkmated me. Twice now, I’d run when threatened but no more. Whether I cut the head off the dragon or went down swinging, I wouldn’t back down from this fight. The lives of the people I loved were at stake, and their safety meant everything to me.

As the man beside me slept, I admitted the truth to myself. I’d never stopped loving Matty—even if he was Mateo Cortes. However, I wasn’t complying with him out of a love still stuck inside a vacuum. Regardless of what he said, I had no illusions as to the choices he’d eventually be forced to make. Valentin Carrera would find out about what I’d done, and Mateo couldn’t protect us. I wasn’t even sure he’d try.

A shrill ring from under the bed woke me up the next morning. Groaning, I flopped halfway off the mattress and blindly swiped my hand underneath the wooden bedframe. Finally finding my phone, I held it up and squinted at the time display at the top.

Seven o’clock in the morning.

Someone had better be dead.

Then I recognized the number flashing on the caller ID.

Fuck, I wish it were me.

I froze, annoyance turning to panic when a debilitating thought hit me. Oh shit, there was no way I was having this conversation lying beside...

Wait, where the hell was Mateo? Wiping my blurry eyes with my free hand, I noticed the opposite side of the bed was empty with a twinge of disappointment. So much for looking out for me until we got this mess cleared up.

The incessant ringing stopped then started again as I realized a glass of orange juice and a single apple were sitting on the opposite nightstand. Fuck it. If he planned to leave me to the wolves, I planned to be fueled for the fight. Swiping the apple with a heavy hand, I cursed as the phone quieted then immediately rang again.

Damn, she broke her three-call rule.

Resigning myself to what had to be done, I answered, every muscle in my body coiling in dread. “Good morning, Mother.”

“Why did I have to hear from your brother that you’ve returned home?” Her crisp aloofness filled my ear like an old friend—a controlling bully of an old friend who liked to trip you in the hallway and steal your lunch money.

Ugh, Brody and his big mouth.

I tossed the apple in the air. “Because this isn’t home. I’m only here until I can pull together enough money to go back to San Marcos.”

“Well, we must catch up now that you’re here.”

I bit into the apple. “I’m on the schedule most days at the cantina. I’m not sure I’ll have time to—”

“Leighton, I’m trying,” she interrupted with a dramatic sigh. “I know things weren’t ideal between us when you left, and I take my share of the blame for that—”

“Ideal?” I choked, fighting to swallow. “Mother, we’ve barely said two words to each other in almost four years. I was a piece of furniture to you. A doll for you to dress up and parade around your campaign functions.”

“It was a very stressful time in my life.”

“Stressful? I lost my father!”

“I lost my husband.”

“Funny, you didn’t even wait until he was cold in the ground before you plucked another one off the replacement tree, did you?” Fire rushed through my veins, her calm response provoking a need to lash out. “He was a ripe one too—all golden and shiny and dripping with money—just like you always wanted.”

“Leighton Brooke, I know I haven’t always done right by you, but I’ll not have my own daughter speak to me this way. I’m the mayor of this city.” Her declaration made me laugh. She wore her title like a badge, flashing it all over town like an all-access pass.

“For now. Polls are reporting a tight race.” I waited for the explosion, but once again, I underestimated her.

“My constituents know the value I add to my community,” she said, ignoring my jab. “They trust I’ll clean up the streets and take them back from this cartel infestation. They’ll come through for me.”

“And if they don’t, you can always buy them.”

Either she didn’t hear me, or she chose to ignore me. “Leighton, darling, I don’t want to fight. Let’s use this opportunity for a fresh start. If your father’s death taught us anything, it’s that none of us are promised tomorrow. It would be a shame for things to end with this rift between us. Don’t you agree?”

I didn’t give a shit one way or the other. I had bigger things on my mind. “I suppose.”

“Splendid,” she cooed. “Finn is throwing me a wonderful campaign party this Wednesday at his country club. It starts at eight o’clock, so try not to be late. You know how I feel about lateness.”

Of course. It’s one of the seven deadly sins.

The apple threatened to crawl back up my throat, but it wasn’t because of my resistance to conformity, or her insulting invitation. It was because the last time I attended one of her campaign parties, I ran away from it in a panic straight into Matty’s arms. Also, she said his name. He was throwing the party.

Finn Donovan.

A shudder crawled up my spine. My stepfather was the main reason I left Houston and never returned. My mother saved face by telling people my hasty departure was just part of my wild and adventurous spirit, and I was all too happy to let her bask in her lie.

“Wednesday’s not good for me.”

“Please, darling, I need you here.”

“Sure, you do. Just like always.” Then it hit me. “Wait, did some journalist find out I was home? Are they wondering why your daughter hasn’t been around for four years? Is your image a little dusty, Mother?”

“Leighton, fresh start, remember?” Her patience cracked. “I’m extending an olive branch. Don’t break it.”

I won’t. I’ll just shove it straight up your ass.

“I’ll think about it.” I hung up without saying goodbye—another one of Lilith Harcourt

Donovan’s cardinal sins. It felt so good I almost called her back so I could do it again.

As I dropped my phone next to me, a cloud of steam billowed into the room before he did. Maybe it was supposed to be a warning because where there was smoke there tended to be fire, and an inferno followed next wearing nothing but a white towel.

“Everything okay?” Mateo gave me a one-sided grin from underneath a hand towel draped over the right side of his face. I watched, mesmerized, as he rubbed the towel over the top of his head, squeezing the excess water from his hair before flinging it onto a chair by the window.

He nodded to the phone still crushed in my hand. “When I turned off the water, I heard shouting. Is there a problem?”

He didn’t leave me.

I bared my teeth in a humorless smile. “Oh, that? No, that was just my mother.”

“Ah, yes, the mayoress of this fine city. I forgot how intertwined with law and politics you Harcourts are. Well, she does certainly play well for the cameras, doesn’t she?”

“Always has, always will.” Looking down, I examined the chipped nail polish on my thumb. Part of me hoped he’d drop the whole conversation.

“So, what did she want?”

Damn.

“Nothing important—just demanding my presence at some campaign function she’s having on Wednesday.” As I obsessed over my non-existent manicure, I snuck a quick glance through my lashes and saw him move closer, the tiny towel shifting open with each step.

Oh, hell.

If I examined my nail any closer, I’d poke my damn eye out.

“What time do you have to be there?” His shadow fell over me, and a drop of water from his still damp hair fell onto my bare thigh. Leaning over, he brushed it away without hesitation.

“Are you kidding me? I’m not going.”

“Why?”

“In case you don’t remember, I had a hard day yesterday. I don’t think I’ll be in the partying mood, Matty.”

Mateo. Mateo. Mateo. Shit.

If he noticed my slipup, he didn’t correct me. “First of all, the party is four days away. Secondly, your reasoning is invalid.”

“On what grounds?”

“You’re sitting in a room, unarmed, with one of those bad guys.” Never moving his hand from my thigh, he leaned forward, his hair hanging over me like a curtain. “Does that scare you?”

“No.”

Yes. So much yes.

“It should,” he warned. “Remember what I told you at the cantina—the only person you should ever trust is yourself.”

“Why? Do you plan to hurt me?” Despite the bravado in my voice, I didn’t really know the answer.

“I could,” he said, his breath fanning over my face. “In so many ways, little lamb. You’re still so lost, so unaware of everything around you. I’m a different version of the man you knew. I don’t wait for things anymore. I take what I want.”

His words felt like a lead weight on my chest. “What do you want?”

Mateo’s lips parted, and as he leaned in, I closed my eyes, the bruising pressure of his hand on my thigh creating a tornado of pleasure and pain. It was wrong, but I wanted it. My body was a selfish seductress who chained my convictions somewhere in the recesses of my mind and took control.

But the kiss never came. Instead, a harsh crunch rang in my ear followed by a sticky drip on my bare shoulder. Opening my eyes, I watched Mateo pull away from my raised hand, chewing a chunk of my apple, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Breakfast,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick juice from his bottom lip. “I want breakfast.”

I didn’t know whether to pass out or smack him.

Prying my fingers off the fruit, Mateo tossed it in the air and caught with ease. With a condescending wink, he took another bite and pointed to my phone. “Call your mother back and tell her you’ve changed your mind and you’re going.”

“Why the hell would I do that? My mother and I don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

“Still, she’s high profile, which makes you high profile. I assume since she’s in a race for the governor’s mansion, word has spread that her estranged daughter has returned home, yes?”

I nodded, my head feeling way too heavy all of a sudden.

He cocked his chin to the side. “Do you not see how this affects you? Leighton, I don’t give a shit about your mother, but don’t give anyone a reason to question you. If you don’t show up at the party, people are going to wonder why, which is going to lead to more investigating—”

“Which is going to lead to finding out about my relationship with Luis and that he’s missing.”

Mateo’s expression didn’t change. “You have to keep up appearances, whether you like it or not. What affects you affects me, and what affects me affects your brother. Keep that in mind, and don’t let personal vendettas cloud your judgment, or you’ll look guilty.”

“To who?” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest. “Your cartel? From what I’ve seen, they don’t care about guilt—only power and money.”

I expected him to fight me, but he calmly walked toward the window and pulled back the blinds. “Friends of yours?”

I jumped off the bed and scrambled to the window. A dark sedan was parked across the street, eerily reminiscent of the same one that sat across from the cantina and the same one used to follow me all the way back to Houston. The windows were tinted just enough that I couldn’t see inside, but it didn’t matter. I knew who it was.

“Oh, God.” I covered my mouth.

“Open your eyes, Leighton,” he growled. “If you don’t think they’ve watched you, me, and your brother since you left Houston, you’re more naïve than I thought.”

I should’ve been scared, but I’d quickly learned fear was a form of madness and both were valuable if used properly.

“I’m not naïve,” I seethed between clenched teeth. “I left that girl behind a long time ago.”

“Prove it,” he challenged. “It’ll be raining politicians there. Someone has to have a contact we can use.” His smoldering eyes scanned my body one last time before he turned toward the bathroom. Pausing at the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder. “Just bat those innocent doe eyes. They worked on me.”