"You taking her out?” he asked me.
“I don’t kill women.”
“You banging her? I would think that the curvy one would be more your type than the kid."
I gave him a look.
"I was right. She’s obviously already pressing your buttons. Relax, she's all yours, brother," Rafa said, laughing. “You totally have a type and she’s it to a T.”
I whacked Rafa upside the head. The last thing we needed was to get into a brotherly fistfight for pissing one another off. "Have a little respect. We shouldn't be here for long, and then you can go back to being a miserable son of a bitch, all by your lonesome self."
"I dug up some dirt on your target. He's a fuckin' piece of shit."
"I know. That's why I'm gonna take him out."
"I know you don't like to play with your prey, but you should make an exception for this one. He's worse than the worst, Malik. So much worse." Rafa smiled. “Maybe a little payback for all the terrible things he’s done. A bullet’s too easy.”
"I'm gonna get him, and I'm gonna make sure that both he and his fuckin' family can't hurt anyone again. Fio has enough dirt to put them all away."
"That little thing with a mouth is the infamous Tatum, huh? Still can’t believe it."
"That little mouth has enough talent to give you a run for your money."
"No shit," Rafa said, leaning back on the counter, his eyes tracing the railing leading upstairs. “I've been reading about her for years.”
"Maybe all women aren't bad, huh, brother," I said, laughing.
"You feel like steaks for dinner?" Rafa asked, changing the subject. "I got some good cuts of meat from the butcher. I was thinking we grill those up with some potatoes and a salad."
"Sounds good."
"Great, everything you need is in the kitchen. I’ve got to go get some work done."
Trudy came down the stairs dressed in a silk robe with a towel turban on her head.
“I just came to grab some water,” she said as she opened the fridge.
I swallowed her beauty, wondering what she felt like underneath the silk.
“Everything fit?” I asked her.
“Good guess. It all fits like a glove.”
Chapter 6
Trudy
I put my fork down, relishing the last bite of dinner. "Where did you learn to cook like that?"
Malik had made a spread with ease that rivaled anything I’d ever planned out for weeks.
"It came about as a necessity. My older brother had to work. He held down two jobs so we could make it. Rafa was too young to do much of anything. If we wanted to eat, I had to make sure the meals were made. I watched Julia Child, Lydia’s Italy, Tony Bourdain, Mario Batali. Yard saled some old cookbooks and over time, it became a hobby I loved instead of a chore."
"What about your parents?" I asked him as I took my last bite of perfectly rare steak.
His body language changed entirely with the change of subject. "My dad ran off into the abyss, never to be heard from again, and my mom was an addict who didn’t have much time for kids. Maverick took custody of us as soon as he turned eighteen."
I held my breath. "Oh, Malik, I'm so sorry."
"There's no reason to feel sorry for me, love. I really don't need pity. I had a good life and two brothers who loved me. "
"It's not pity. It's sympathy. I know what it's like to be without family. I'm glad you had your brothers. I wasn’t so lucky." I didn't know what to say. Everyone I interacted with now already knew my story. I talked about my experience at conferences and even at universities. I knew all too well what it was like to have no one to take care of me and no place to call home. I’d spent my whole life looking over my shoulder and feeling petrified of everyone, especially men. My life hadn't been easy, and I recognized the same pain I had known in his eyes. He had the same haunted look, the same shame, the same feeling that he wasn't worthy of someone’s love.
Malik’s expression changed again and this time he looked angry. "Were you in the system?" he asked the question casually as he cleared the plates. But by the way they slammed together, I could tell he was experiencing some sort of anxiety.
We were alone now. Rafa and Fio both went off to their respective corners, desperately trying to avoid each other. It was strange, we were here on a hit job and staying in a safe house, but it felt more like a weekend mountain getaway with the new friends we’d just made.
"Eventually, but first I was kidnapped and forced into trafficking,” I said. I had years of practice delivering my hard truth with poise. If I showed others I was okay now, then they wouldn’t react in ways I found uncomfortable or feel uncomfortable themselves.