much. My hands flattened on the wall. I thought of Diego and what he would do when he realized Vincente was missing. What he would do if he found out Tanner was the man who had killed Vincente.
My thoughts traveled to Tanner, how easily he snapped Vincente’s neck with absolutely no qualms and seemingly no remorse. Cold shivers broke out over me when I realized this was who Tanner was. This was what he did—he killed. And he did so with efficiency.
I remembered Valdez’s man who had tried to kill us near the safe house, how equally as mercilessly Tanner killed him. Yet . . . as much as I should be running far from this ruthless man, it only made me want him more. He was savage in his kills. But he was doing it to protect me . . . to protect us.
I stepped out of the shower and dried off. I slipped on my nightgown and lay down on my bed. My eyes were wide open. Only the small lamp beside me illuminated the room. I should have felt numb. Teresa should have been my biggest thought. But I was racked with worry and anxiety as I waited for Tanner.
My stomach flipped over in nerves. What if he was discovered? What if Diego had caught him? How did he know where to bury Vincente’s body? What did it mean for us?
If there was the slightest chance that we could be together, it was now gone. Tanner had Quintana blood on his hands . . . it would never be forgiven. My father, if he found out, would execute Tanner on the spot, contract be damned. Nobody slighted my father or his cartel.
The mass of questions and dread filled my brain to the point that I couldn’t lie down. Fear for Tanner made me jump from the bed and pace my room. I was sure my feet would wear down the thread on the antique carpet with my frantic movements. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to settle until Tanner returned to me. Then we’d figure out what to do. Where to go from here. I stopped dead, staring into nothing when the truth hit me.
Nothing. There was absolutely nothing we could do. There was no chance for us to be together. His brotherhood would never let it happen—I was inferior to them. And I didn’t care if my father had a contract with Governor Ayers. I knew it was tenuous at best. Because, like my father always did, he would turn on the Klan when they least expected it and take them out. Father’s contracts never lasted long.
He would forbid me from being with Tanner.
There was no hope.
Too trapped in my head, in despair, I didn’t hear the door to my rooms click open until I saw Tanner moving in my peripheral vision. My feet woke up and I ran toward him, jumping into his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist. Tanner’s strong arms came around me and held me so tightly I could barely breathe. But I welcomed the smother. I wanted to feel Tanner in every way.
I tucked my head into the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent. I could smell the freshness of earth and grass on his skin. Tanner began walking with me and took us to my bed. He laid us down, and I finally let myself pull back from his hold to study his face. His eyes were wide, and for the first time, I saw something in their depths—worry. Tanner never seemed to worry or at least express it. But it was here now. I could feel it vibrating off him in thick waves.
Running my hand down his stubbled cheek, I asked, “Is he . . .?”
“It’s been taken care of,” Tanner said and then pressed his lips to mine. I kissed him back, savoring his taste and the feel of him.
When he broke away, I ignored the trembling of my lip and whispered, “You can never come back.” My hand shook as I ran my fingers over his shaved head. “If Diego ever finds out you killed Vincente . . .” I trailed off, not even wanting to say those words aloud, fearful that if I let them out into the universe it could somehow make them come true.
Tanner looked away. “I killed him for us. He was going to say something. I had to protect you.”