a once over, taking in my sweats and T-shirt, lingering on the ink on my arms, a tight inspection before she says, “Oh. My. You do pretty well for no make-up, honey. Muscles. Tattoos. Tall, dark, and good looking. Who is this?”
Pri face palms and amused, I say, “Rafael, and I don’t have on any make-up either.”
She laughs. “You’re funny. I’m Amanda, Pri’s mother.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, but she’s already dismissed me to scowl at Pri. “I like him. Does he know he’s in danger just being near you?”
Pri’s cheeks flush, her hands going up. “Okay stop, Mom,” she bites out, low but tight. “Please. Rafael doesn’t need you to scare him off. I can do just fine myself.” She motions to her face. “I look horrible, remember?”
“You look great,” she says. “Always. I’m critical right now because I’m worried about you. I’m looking for signs of stress.” She pauses for effect. “I’m sorry. Please come back to the firm. Drop this case.”
“No,” Pri says, and I can sense the strain between them, as if they were once close, but there’s now a wall between them. “And you should be happy,” she adds. “I’ve given you an excuse to go hide out in Paris for a couple of months. Why are you still here?”
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” her mother assures her. “Come with us.”
“No, Mother,” Pri bites out, prim but firm. “I have a case. An important case and right now, I’m with Rafael.”
I sip my coffee and arch a brow.
“Right,” Amanda says, glancing in my direction. “Please protect her.”
The plea hits a nerve, about ten, actually, that all tie back to my failure to kill the King Devil. Now people who didn’t have to die are dead. “I will,” I promise and I mean it—if she’s one of the good guys.
Amanda motions to Pri. “Can we talk?”
“So you can tell me why dad and I should talk and why I should drop this case and come back to the firm?”
“Yes, actually.”
“No to all of those things,” Pri says, “but I still love you. Text me your flight info and I’ll see you off.”
Amanda sighs. “You win. I’ll leave. I’ll just go get my coffee.” She hugs Pri, “I love you, too, sweetie.” She eyes me over Pri’s shoulder and releases her daughter. “Nice to meet you, Rafael.”
I give her a nod and she walks away. Pri steps in front of me, close, but not close enough as far as I’m concerned. “I’m so sorry. Can we step outside, beyond her prying eyes and ears?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.”
She turns and starts walking toward the door with purpose, offering me another delicious view of her perfect ass in the process. My lips curve, and I follow her, a predator with his prey in his sights, and soon we’re outside, the day heating up because in Texas it’s always heating up—the undercurrent of heat between us, even hotter.
“Thank you,” she says, the minute we’re outside behind a wall offering us privacy from the indoor guests. She rotates to face me, her breasts thrust high, every one of her many lush curves tempting my mouth and hands, but my attraction to her does nothing to dismiss my distrust. “And I’m so sorry I did that to you,” she adds. “You don’t even know me, but I’m good to my word. What do I owe you?”
The list of requests I could make right now are long and detailed, the most PG: dinner. Every male part of me wants to ask her out, to get to know her on the most intimate of levels—a plan I could justify easily as a means to establishing her true intent, but I’d be full of shit. It’s the wrong move, the move Adrian Mack of the Devils would make. I am not that man. I will never be him again.
Already, she’s going to be pissed when she finds out who I am and that is coming sooner rather than later. Already, I’ve ensured she will hate me when the real me is identified. Asking her out, leading her on, would be a death wish for me, at least with her. And right now, for all I know, she’s aiding Waters, the King Devil himself, who does want me dead.
“You owe me nothing,” I say. “I was just teasing you on that. I don’t believe in debts.”
There’s a hint of what I believe is surprise in her eyes. “Most people take where they can take.”
“Agreed,” I say. “Why is