“You have every right to be wary of me, but I am not him.” Without having to ask, I knew who he was referring to. El Diablo. “And I won’t hurt you the way he has. Unlike that son of a bitch, I only want to help you.”
My eyes narrowed. I wanted to believe his hope-filled words, but I refused. Doing so would’ve been estúpido and reckless, neither of which I could afford to be.
“Why me?” It was a simple question, but one I needed an answer to. My guess was that James was trying to atone for the horrible things he’d done, an act I admired even when his past actions disgusted me to my core. But what I didn’t understand was why he’d chosen me as his pet project.
Was it because I’d robbed him?
Or did he truly believe I was his salvation?
Exactly how insano was he?
“Haven’t you been listening?” he asked, voice calm despite the tightness lining his handsome features. “Or do I need to spell it out for you again?”
My ears had heard the words he’d spoken just fine, but my heart refused to accept them. A small piece of me may have believed he wouldn’t hurt me the way Dominic and countless others had, but a much larger chunk rejected the notion that something bigger was happening between us.
After all, fairy tales didn’t exist.
At least not for putas like me.
Catching onto the turmoil that rioted inside me, James brushed my nose with his, ripping me out of my head before my demons could sink their claws deeper into my thoughts.
“I know you feel it, sweetheart.” James trailed his fingers over my jaw and down my slender throat before pressing his thumb against the spot where my balmy skin fluttered in time with the beat of my heart. “You can deny it all you want, but this doesn’t lie.”
He was right, I did feel something between him and I. My pounding pulse was proof of that. The problem was, the invisible string pulled taut between us, connecting his darkest parts to my damaged ones, only made my fractured heart hurt worse than before.
And that hurt? It was crippling.
Quickly losing the waning grip on reality and needing a reprieve, I pushed past the excruciating agony that plagued me, eating away at my insides bit by bit and twined a lone arm around his back.
Surprised by the move, his muscles tensed, bunching beneath my forearm and hand as I soaked up every ounce of heady comfort that having him close brought without a second thought.
Considering the life I’d led, along with the past I’d barely survived and the innate fear I still harbored, it made no sense for me to soothe myself in such a way with any man—much less James Cole, whose soul was seemingly as scarred and lost as mine.
Yet, needing my warring emotions to ease before I splintered beyond the point of return, I did exactly that.
Slipping my free hand into his inky hair, I allowed my eyes to slide closed as I memorized the feel of his body hovering above mine, his warmth seeping into parts of me I’d once thought unreachable.
I didn’t want the moment to end.
Not right then.
And not ever.
Grasping his soft black locks, I held him tight, refusing to let him get away even if he tried. It was a move that was automatic as it was second nature and one that was in stark contrast to my behavior during our last encounter.
That night beneath the paper mill I’d threatened to kill him over the pain he’d caused his beautiful son, but that morning at the seedy motel where he’d tucked me away to help me heal, I lowered my walls the slightest bit and unapologetically stole every bit of solace his powerful presence had to give.
I’d clearly lost my mind.
“I don’t know what you see when you look at me.” Feet still planted firmly in denial, I couldn’t stop the words that spilled from my dry lips. “But you need glasses, Guapo, because your vision is wrong.”
It had to be.
“What I am is nothing more than a junkie whore.”
Though I stole the money El Diablo demanded from me instead of whoring myself out to one man after another like I’d been forced to do in the past, I couldn’t escape the title that had been seared onto my soul, damning me for eternity.
Mamá would be so ashamed.
Papá too.
“The sooner you see that truth for what it is and walk away, the better off you’ll be.”
“You are not either of those goddamned things,” he snarled, refusing to listen. “I don’t know the full extent of what you’ve been through, though I sure as hell plan to find out, but what I do know is that none of it is your fault.”
He was incorrect.
All of it was my fault.
“The only thing you are is—”
“Damned,” I interrupted, refusing to listen to whatever sugar-laced words he was about to dump on the shit-show that was my life. “I am damned, James, and I have been for a long time.” He stilled at my words as I confessed the tragic truth I’d accepted long ago. “Even if I one day find the strength to save my chicas—I pray I do—salvation is something I’ll never capture for anyone but them.”
The cheap, aged bed squeaked in protest, and my eyes popped open as he jerked upright, slipping free of my hold. Scarred right cheek twitching, his anger was evident.
“You’re wrong,” he growled, angular jaw ticking. “And we’re about to address every ounce of bullshit you just spewed all over yourself and me.”
No, we weren’t.
Not if I had anything to say about it.
“It may be painful, but it’s time you open up and listen to someone other than the army of demons that live inside your pretty little head.”
My lips thinned.
Open up? No chance.
I cared little to speak about myself, along with the heartbreak I’d suffered. Jesucristo, I’d already endured the nightmarish events that formed my life once. I had no desire to relive them again.
Yet the hesitation that was evident on my face didn’t stop him from
