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“I won’t be able to eat all that,” I admit.
“Eat what you can. I’m not concerned about waste.”
He’s not concerned about anything. Not wasted food, or the expense of a private jet, or abduction. Life is void of problems for him. And he’s definitely not in a hurry to talk, seeing as though he remains quiet while he retrieves tortillas from a cupboard, then opens more containers filled with diced tomatoes and thinly sliced lettuce.
I climb onto a stool hidden beneath the counter, my need for answers temporarily diverted by the heavenly aroma of food.
When he slides the heated mince toward me, I try my best not to show how starving I am by making the slowest taco in living history.
I have no doubt he can see right through me, especially when my hand shakes as I spoon the tomato onto the tortilla. It’s a foregone conclusion when I take my first bite and bliss explodes on my tongue, dragging a moan from the deepest depths of my gratitude.
It feels like I haven’t eaten in weeks. Every mouthful is euphoric. And all the while, Cole watches me, his attention rarely leaving my face.
“I’m ready to listen.” I take a sip of water to clear my throat. “I was frustrated earlier, but now I’m willing to hear what you have to say.”
“Once you finish eating.” His focus turns to my mouth. My lips.
It’s daunting. Far more disconcerting than when he raises his voice or plays his co
I’m under his control, a slave to his whims, and with all that power he’s going to sit there at whatever hellish hour this is, and watch me down a taco or two?
“Please, Cole.” I’m not too proud to beg when his attention makes goose bumps erupt over my skin. He’s unsettling me. U
“Have one more,” he demands.
I sigh and finish the first taco in two more bites, then quickly make a second. “You enjoy watching people eat?” I ask and take another mouthful.
He moves to lean back against the main kitchen counter with a shrug. “I enjoy watching you eat. It’s comforting after being concerned about you all day.”
I don’t scoff, despite wanting to. I don’t roll my eyes either.
I keep eating. Bite after bite until my plate is bare. “I’m done,” I murmur. “Please start talking. I won’t argue with you this time.”
“You had every reason to argue with me, Nissa. I won’t expect anything less now, and I shouldn’t have expected anything less earlier.”
“But you did?” I scrutinize him. “You expected me to react differently?”
“I thought you’d wake up ready to fight,” he admits. “I anticipated things to be heated for a few hours. Maybe you’d throw a lamp or a few plates. But I didn’t expect you to run. And I sure as shit didn’t think you’d have a gun pointed at your head before di
I stiffen, and my shoulder pinches in protest. “You saw that?”
His eyes narrow, as if sensing my pain. “I caught the final moments between you and the boat driver before he took off. Trust me, having him threaten you wasn’t in my plan.”
He’s remorseful. At least, that’s what he wants me to believe.
“So what was your plan?” I hold his gaze, relying on his expression to lead the way, not his words. I watch his breathing, how often he swallows. I take note of everything, because he’s already fooled me so many times before.
All I see is discomfort.
Awkward frustration.
He sucks in a deep breath, expanding his chest then letting the air out on a sigh. “It’s a long story. Are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep first?”
“All I want is to go home. I’m willing to live without sleep and discuss whatever needs to be discussed until that can happen.”
His chin tilts, raising the slightest inch. Without him knowing, he’s made it crystal clear this conversation isn’t going to be my ticket home.
“Just tell me.” I slide from the stool and grab my dirty plate to round the counter. “Start from the very begi
“Like I told you before, I didn’t know the details of my father’s escape. I’ve had very little contact with him. But I’d been warned to keep myself busy. To remain in the public eye. Seeking you out to be my alibi was out of spite, not only for the way you spoke to me at my uncle’s funeral, but because you fucked up so many of my plans by making the arrest.”
He pauses, seeming to doubt whether I can handle what he’s about to say next.
He shouldn’t.
After everything he’s put me through, words could barely faze me at this point.
“Keep going.” I place the dripping plate on the sink and return to my stool, ignoring the close-up view of all the threatening muscles. “I’m listening.”
“What you and your FBI buddies don’t realize is that there’s no place for my father’s actions within my organization. I don’t condone his behavior. In fact, me and my siblings are furious. We hadn’t been aware of what he was doing—”
“You knew before the funeral.” It’s not a question, and not a statement either. “I refuse to believe you were oblivious.”
“You’re right.” He inclines his head. “I’d been informed a few weeks prior. But there hadn’t been enough time to decide what to do.”
“You knew for weeks and didn’t do anything?” It should’ve taken hours to act. Mere minutes. “Seconds is all I would’ve spared to pick up the phone and make a call to the authorities.”
His jaw tics. “Let me make this clear, Anissa. I have no intention of letting my father get away with his crimes, especially when they tarnish my family name, but all the authorities have done is fuck this up. The FBI has made one mistake after another. Their growing level of incompetence is the reason I’m fucking thankful he’s now free.”
My chest expands in anger, my blood ru
His family has never shown a glimpse of morality. And even if I could skirt reality for a moment and become a believer, it’s equally ridiculous for Cole to think he has the right to take the law into his own hands.
“And you think you can do a better job than we have?” The faintest hint of incredulity taints my voice. “I’m sorry, Cole, I’m trying really hard to be patient, but what you’re suggesting is delusional.”
“You want to talk about delusions?” He slides from the stool and stands, gripping the counter in both hands. “How ’bout we start with the Feds who locked up a sex trafficker with no thought to the women he had imprisoned?”
“We imprisoned him because of those women. He can’t hurt anyone when he’s behind bars.”
“Bullshit. You put them in more danger when you arrested him.”
I snap upright. “How? They’re free. They’ve been returned to their families.”
He laughs. It’s a bitter, resentful sound that unsettles me.
“The information you passed on to Greek authorities led to the freedom of six victims, right? Six.” He clucks his tongue. “Do you really think a man like my father had such a small grasp?”
No, I didn’t.
We didn’t.
The FBI knows there are more victims out there. It’s only a matter of time before we find them. And even with their location unknown, it was better to arrest Luther while we searched for more evidence than to build a case while he continued to terrorize.
“Tell me what you know,” I plead. “How did we put women in more danger?”
“You’re smart.” He meets my gaze, his eyes begging me to figure it out on my own. “What do you think criminals do when they discover the authorities are onto them?”