“I don’t like this,” Paul groaned, crossing his arms as he watched me apply the final touches of my makeup.
“We’ve gone over this. It’s an S&R date.”
“It’s too soon.”
“I’ll be fine.” I screwed the cap on the tub of my mascara and threw it on the counter. I started to walk down the hall to the kitchen.
“I’m going with you.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “You’re not going with me on my date.”
“Yes, I am.” He was talking nonsense.
I grabbed my purse off the kitchen table, needing to leave. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine. It’s an S&R date, not a top secret date that I will never go on again.”
So … that may or may not be true. I still needed more research. I’d had one date that ended badly. I didn’t know who Martinez was and I needed to find more girls who could get me closer to meeting him.
After the incident at the Wynn, I’d called the secure line for the FBI and reported it. I’d needed to let Eric know. I needed to report my findings, and if the man had died then the bureau could handle it since I was undercover and my DNA and prints were all over the room. I was also probably caught on camera fleeing the scene.
“Do you have your gun?” Paul looked down at my purse in my hands as I opened the front door. We bought me one at the range before we left. There was no way he was letting that slide even though I already had one in my room.
“Yes, sexy.” I kissed him quickly before walking out the front door. Paul grabbed his keys and started to walk toward the garage. “Where are you going?”
“Going on your date.”
I put a hand on my hip. “You’re serious?”
“As a fucking heart attack.”
I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop him, so I rolled my eyes, got in my car and backed out of the driveway. When I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, Paul parked beside me. I glared at him and shook my head.
“Gorgeous,” he called out.
“You better stay at the bar,” I whispered and kept walking, not wanting to bring attention to us. I didn’t want to stop in case my date was already inside the restaurant and could see. I wasn’t at a hotel because my date was only for lunch. I’d never had a lunch date before; maybe he thought it would end with a nooner. Guess we’d find out. I was getting good at turning them down for sex—minus Martinez’s guy who clearly got off raping women.
I walked into the Mexican food restaurant and to the hostess stand. “I’m meeting a Mr. Sanchez for lunch,” I explained.
She looked at her reservation list on her computer. “Yes, we have your reservation, but he hasn’t arrived. It says to go ahead and seat you.”
“Perfect,” I replied.
I looked over my shoulder and gave Paul a tight smile before following the hostess to the back corner of the restaurant. As we walked, I noticed the restaurant had minimal people, but yet she took me to the farthest corner of the restaurant. I didn’t think much of it. Mr. Sanchez had probably requested a quiet table where we could be alone and he wouldn’t get caught with an escort.
I sat with my back to the wall, facing the bar. I was able to see Paul and would see Mr. Sanchez when he arrived. I didn’t want to admit it but having Paul there put me at ease. I wasn’t in a hotel room and I would never be in one again with a client, but having my man there was like having backup even if I had my gun sitting in my clutch purse that was on the table.
The busser came over and left a glass of water, a basket of tortilla chips and a dish of salsa. I caught the gaze of Paul. I expected him to be sipping a Coke and tequila, but he too was drinking water. He winked at me and I blushed. I couldn’t help it. No matter how mad I was that he’d insisted on coming with me to my date, I still loved him with all of my heart. I knew he was only doing it because he loved me. I couldn’t imagine what would have happened if that man had raped me. It would have destroyed everything we’d built. I don’t think I would have been able to survive it, let alone the touch of a man again.
“Preciosa.” Gorgeous.
I looked up and into the same eyes I looked into every day in the mirror and blinked, unable to say anything. My mouth went dry. My heart stopped beating. I was certain I couldn’t breathe.
He unbuttoned his suit jacket and slid into his chair in front of me. “Have we met before?”
We had.
I’d raised him from the moment he was born until I went running for my life.
My gaze flicked to Paul’s—I needed him. I needed him to breathe because I couldn’t. This wasn’t happening. What did I do? How did I tell the man sitting across from me that he was my brother?
“That’s not possible. I know all the whores in this town.”
He didn’t recognize me, but I was sure of it. This was my brother. My gaze flicked down to his hand that was running along the condensation of the ice water. Along the inside of his palm was the mark from the cigarette burn my mother gave him when he was four and she’d used him as an ashtray.
I smiled tightly and took a sip of my water, trying to think of what to do. He’d hired me as an escort. Obviously I wasn’t going to—gross!
“So tell me, Andi,” he leaned forward, crossed his hands on the table and looked into my eyes, “what do you think gives you the right to disobey my orders?”
My head tilted to the side in confusion. “Your orders?”
He smirked. “You don’t know who I am?”
“Bryce,” I whispered.
He leaned back in his chair. “Well, that’s funny. Usually the whores I fuck are the only ones who know my first name.”
“I—”
“Which one of my whores is running her mouth, Andi? Huh?” He hit the table with his fist and I jumped. Paul looked over and I shook my head slightly.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He leaned forward again. “I’ll ask you again. What gives you the right to disobey my orders?”
“What orders?” I asked, scrunching my eyebrows.
“Come on, Andi. Don’t play stupid. I know some of you whores are stupid, but you don’t look like one of them. Jasmine told me you were smart. Let’s act like it.”
My head cocked back. “Jasmine?”
“Okay, so you are stupid.” He laughed.
My gaze flicked to Paul and he was staring at us. I wanted to motion for him to come sit with us, be my back-up. I felt like my head was spinning. I was talking about one thing and Bryce was talking about another—and then it clicked.
“You’re Martinez?”
“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner, folks!”
When I’d left the hotel twelve years ago, I thought I would return to the trailer park to save Bryce, but forty-eight hours later I’d learned that Tony took him and my mother, only to never be heard of again—until now. I never knew why.
As I stared into the honey eyes that were similar to mine, I knew there was no saving this man I didn’t know. It was too late. Even though he had my eyes, his weren’t warm and inviting. They were cold and dark, as if they didn’t care if he lived or died on any given day. Tony had raised him and made him the man he was today. The boy I was raising would never treat a woman the way he was speaking to me. He would never call women whores. Would never order a woman around. He would be more like Paul—more like Seth even.
I gave Paul one final look and then I acted. Whatever happened beyond this point was out of my control. I had a gun and if I had to shoot my own blood, then that was what I was going to do. Paul raised his eyebrows and his gaze lowered to my hand as it went inside my clutch. I saw him reach behind his back as I pulled my gun out and stood.
“FBI. Get on the fucking ground, hands behind you back.” I pointed my gun at Bryce and he laughed.
Paul stood with a look of confusion on his face as his gaze went back and forth between me and my brother.
“Get on the fucking ground!” I repeated, the gun in both of my hands as I pointed it at him.
Two big goons ran in behind Bryce. Paul pulled his gun and pointed it at them. They skidded to a stop and drew their own guns. “All right, everyone needs to calm the fuck down,” Bryce interjected, trying to get everyone to lower their weapons. People in the restaurant were screaming and running for the doors.