Page 67 of Reckless Woman

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Page 67 of Reckless Woman

Hollow.

Like Joseph’s brusque responses that he’s okay when we arrive at Teterboro Airport and park up next to another of Santiago’s aircraft.

If it were me, I’d be suffering a serious case of PTSD after surviving a plane crash mere days ago. Not him. He’s too damn cool about it, limping slowly up the steps without a trace of a doubt. I know that wanted assassins and mercenaries are wired differently to other people, but it worries the hell out of me. I know better than anyone that internalizing shit makes it leak out in other ways.

There’s only so much a man can take until he breaks.

There’s a medic waiting for him onboard. I sit across the aisle as he gets fixed up for another busted stitch. And then I watch, pretending to be asleep, as he pops Vicodin like candy and drinks an entire bottle of whiskey during the flight.

* * *

Santiago emergesfrom his big white mansion as soon as the car pulls up. He stands there on the porch, hands in his pockets, sunglasses glinting—a man as still as the nights on this island. A shiver zips up and down my spine. I wouldn’t be Viviana right now for all the money in the world. He’ll hunt her down to the ends of the Earth, and then he’ll push her off it with her throat slit and a knife in her chest.

“Mrs. Grayson.” He greets me with that dangerous drawl of his as I climb the steps, with Joseph falling into step behind me. “Welcome back, and congratulations. Your husband sent me a message about your news.”

“Likewise,” I say tersely. There’s no love lost between us, but we grate along for the sakes of my best friend and the man standing in my shadow. “How’s Eve?”

“Waiting for you indoors.” He angles his head to acknowledge Joseph. “Good to see you in one piece. Shame about my jet, though.”

“Shame you weren’t on it to enjoy the ride, you fucking cunt.”

Wow.My head whips round in shock. I’ve never heard him speak to Santiago like that before.

Joseph climbs the last two steps until he’s level with us, and then he puts in an extra stride that encroaches well into Santiago’s airspace. “The next time you want to play fast and loose with my life, leave my goddamn wife out of it.”

Santiago doesn’t comment, but two dark eyebrows rise above the rim of his sunglasses. “Would you like to hear the reasons before you—”

“Fuck your reasons!”

Bam.

Joseph’s left hook sends the devil reeling sideways. He hisses out a bad word in Spanish and clutches at his jaw, ripping off his sunglasses.

“Joseph, stop!” As much as I’m cheering on my husband on the inside, Santiago’s bloodlust puts the fear of God in me.

“You knew, you bastard,” he snarls, pushing me out of the way. “You knew Viviana wasn’t legit for six weeks, and you let it roll out at your own pace. I never would have been in New York gathering intel on her if you’d kept me in the loop. I never would have been on that plane in the first place.”

I go to intervene again when someone grabs my wrist and tugs me into the house.

“There’s no point, Anna,” I hear Eve say, closing the front door on the new equivalent of World Word Three. “I’ve seen them blow up like this before. It’s a summer storm. It comes in hard and cleans all the dirt away. I’ve already given Dante hell for not telling Joseph about Viviana. He knows he has it coming.”

“But what if he retaliates?” I pause when I realize she’s only half a day past giving birth and she’s standing in front of me in a loose-fitted white sundress. “And what the hell are you doing out of bed?”

Outside the shouting is getting louder. There’s a loud thump as something heavy hits the door, rattling the locks and the frame.

Eve doesn’t even flinch. “Not if he wants to stay married…and in answer to your other question, I’m taking advantage of the miracle of two sleeping children.” She breaks the tension with one of her daybreak smiles, looking shattered but beautiful. “God, I missed you.” She pulls me in for a hug.

“You feel weird without a baby bump,” I mutter into her hair.

“You feel weird being married.” She lets go and slides her arm around my waist. “While our husbands work out their differences, come and meet Thalia.”

The baby wakes as soon as we enter the nursery, mewling like a kitten and then bleating like a lamb when she realizes that her dinner isn’t ready.

Eve unbuttons the front of her sundress and scoops her up.

“Joseph said she’s been sick,” I say, sounding worried.

“I think it was the shock of being delivered by Dante.” She laughs and eases into the nursing chair as I collapse onto a soft gray couch opposite. “It was a tough time, but she seems okay now. They’re still taking blood every couple of hours.”




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