There is one detail I want settled though because it’s been eating at me all week. “Elle Santos is my half-sister, isn’t she?” He has barely uttered a confirmation before I’m bouncing in my seat and grinning wildly. “I knew it!”
Papá tuts. “It’s up to her mother to tell her the truth, but feel free to take Arielle under your wing if you’d like. The closer she is, the safer she’ll be.”
The implication sobers me. “Is closer really safer for her? She wants to go to school in San Diego, to get away from Los Angeles. I have a feeling it’s to get away from her father. Julian, I mean. When we were kids, Maddox used to say he was violent with him and his brothers. If he’s that way around her . . .”
His expression darkens and he sits up straighter. “How violent?”
“I don’t know,” I say, shocked by his sudden change in demeanor. “It’s been years, so maybe he’s changed.”
“Men like him don’t change. I’ll look into it. Thank you for letting me know.”
“You’re welcome.” Should I have divulged so much? But at the very least he will make sure Elle is safe. If there’s one thing Papá cares about, it’s that the women in his life are protected from harm.
He nods. “We can discuss the rest later. Sleep well tonight, mija.”
I rise to leave, eager to return to my room, where I’m sure Leo and Maddox are waiting. I pause halfway to the door and turn, unwilling to leave without saying one more thing, even though there’s a risk in putting it out in the open.
“I love them both, you know. But more than that, they love each other. That’s how I know this is going to work.”
A series of expressions crosses Papá’s face—pain at first, then resignation, then acceptance. He finally sighs and nods, giving me a sad smile. “Yes, I think you’re right. If I’d had your wisdom three decades ago, our lives might be a lot less complicated now. I love you, mija.”
“I love you too, Papá.”
43
Maddox
Leo leads me on an interminable walk across terra-cotta-tiled hallways, down several short flights of stairs, and around corners beyond which there is even more of the house to see. It’s deceptively small from the outside, but it’s situated on a hillside so most of the living space is below the driveway.
“Thank you,” I blurt when we reach a lavish bedroom with yet another wall of french doors and a view overlooking the sprawling lights of Los Angeles, which glitters like a gem-encrusted dragon below.
He looks into my eyes and shakes his head. “Your brother’s just as dead as mine is. We understand each other perfectly. You already understood even before what happened to J.J., so you don’t have a goddamn thing to thank me for.” He pulls back the blankets on a king-size bed, then turns to me and begins unbuttoning my uniform.
“You’re probably right. I guess we’re both under his thumb now, huh? Pawns in his fucking game.” I look him in the eyes, watching for some sign that he’s onto the game Arturo’s playing, because I have zero doubt that’s what this is. I just wish I knew the rules.
He holds my gaze as he pushes my jacket off my shoulders, undoes my tie, and starts working on my shirt. “We’re all two people deep down, Mad Dog. There’s the face we show the world,” he pauses to slide my shirt down my arms and begins on my pants, “and there’s who we are in secret. Two skins we change when it suits the moment, or whatever agenda we’re working toward. You can choose to be a pawn for him, but that doesn’t change who you really are, got it?”
He lowers my zipper as he continues. “The ink you put on my skin, the scars Gustavo gave us, all that’s just part of the persona, nothing but added armor to our facades. You and me?” He leans down to untie my shoes. I kick them off and let him finish helping me out of my pants. “We can be our true selves with each other. We can always come back here when we’re tired of being whoever he expects us to be. We are each other’s sanctuary. I figured that out when you fucked me. That I could let you in and the world wouldn’t end if you saw who I really am. That seeing each other for who we are only sets us free of all the other secrets we hide behind. All the other skins we wear.”
My eyes are heavy lidded and my cock half hard from the repeated brush of his fingers as he removes my clothes. He peels my undershirt off over my head, then runs his hands down my chest, over my scars, careful to avoid the tender skin of my fresh tattoo and the bandaged wound on my side. He makes his way to the waistband of my boxers, then pushes them down my thighs. His hand comes up between my legs, cups my balls, and strokes me until I’m fully erect.
I hiss with the sudden, sharp, and oh-so-welcome pleasure of his firm touch, then groan when he leans in to kiss me. He keeps stroking my cock, and the kiss continues as I undress him. When we’re both naked, he eases close until his stiff shaft glides against mine and he grips us together. It’s only been a few days since we fucked, my obligations to my family keeping us apart, but my body is starved for this contact, my nerves sparking with every little touch, and my skin comes alive when he tightens his long fingers around us both and strokes.
The door clicks open, then
