The only difference is his vibe, his whole aura has a sinister edge to it.
This man is not kind at all. He reeks of power, money, and the blood he must leave in his wake whenever someone crosses him.
I can tell he doesn't like it when things don’t go according to plan.
And more importantly, Noah being here is the last thing he anticipated or wanted.
After all these years, my father finally wants me around. If I weren’t hanging on to Noah right now, he would have had his men take care of my husband the way he just took care of CJ.
Shifting his gaze away, Santos makes a show of pacing the room, stopping by a table where women––girls,are packing drugs.
Their movements falter as Santos bends down to inspect their work.
He’s on edge, and he’s going to take it out on these innocent young women.
Noah shifts beside me, his eyes narrowing when he notices the sudden shift in the air.
My stomach recoils with disgust at the thought of being related to someone this blatantly cruel.
Against my better judgment, I open my mouth to interrupt his perusal.
I’ll never forget watching CJ die. I already foresee nightmares in my future. I won’t let him hurt these girls, too.
“What do you want from me,father––” I spit the words out, my nails biting into my palms.
He spins around, still holding the little baggy, satisfaction etching the lines on his forehead and around his eyes. It makes him appear even more sinister.
Hewasbaiting me, and he’s damn near giddy that I took it.
“You’re my daughter.”
He tosses the bag callously back on the table and then snaps his fingers, pointing at the three women. My insides twist, seeing the way they don’t even need to hear the words to know that they’re being dismissed.
They scamper to their feet like mice, one of them nearly tripping over her feet as she rushes out the door in obvious relief. As I watch them leave, I spot CJ’s gun on the floor. The memory of CJ running the barrel over my face as he threatened to kill Noah has goosebumps rising on my skin.
I feel Noah look down at me, a crease between his eyebrows, and I work on keeping a straight face. I nearly forgot how attuned he is to me.
I muster enough courage to voice the question I’m not really sure I want to hear the answer to.
“Why now?”
I force myself to meet Santos’ gaze, and I’m rewarded when his lip curls in what I’m guessing is his best attempt at a smile.
“Why notnow?”
My hand curls around Noah’s shirt and I feel him tense beside me.
I open my mouth to speak, deciding against it. If anything, it will edge him further to another fit of fury and Noah could get hurt.
Instead, I raise an eyebrow at Santos and wait.
I relax my arm around Noah, pretending I’m simply moving my hands to cross them on my chest. I let my fingers linger on Noah’s back, subtly tugging the rope binding his hands.
I bite back my smile when I find it’s already looser than it should be.
Of course my husband knows how to untie himself.
Crossing my arms, I face Santos.