Rogue (Dead Man's Ink, #2)(11)
“Then why say it? And why leave me here, trapped in this cabin for ten days, after I said I would help you in Alabama? It makes no sense. It’s just damn cruel, in fact.” She speaks slowly. I can tell she’s still furious but she keeps her voice down now. No more shouting and screaming. No more trying to pile drive her knee straight through my ribcage. Given her reaction earlier, I feel like making a show of cowering from her, but it’s probably still too early for jokes yet. Besides, I’d probably burst open my stitches if I move, and Cade will not be thrilled if I undo his handiwork. He’ll probably stab me all over again.
“If my boys knew you were here, why you were here, or that Raphael is on the look out for you, they’ll want to use you somehow,” I explain. “They’ll want to use you as bait or something to lure Ramirez out, and I’m not taking that kind of chance.”
Soph rests her chin on her knees, staring up at me on the bed. “Yeah. Well, I mean, I don’t want to be anywhere near Dela Vega or Ramirez again if I don’t have to be.” She sounds like even the prospect of running into either of those men is enough to give her nightmares. I’d be surprised if that’s not actually the case.
“As soon as Raphael lays eyes on you here, Soph, that will be it. I know him. He’s a sick motherf*cker. He won’t ever stop until he gets his hands on you.”
Sophia shivers. Shakes her head, like she’s trying to shake the very memory of him out of her body. “Why would Ramirez follow you here? Why would he actually search you out? I don’t get it.”
“We’re not playing hide and seek, Soph. Neither side wants to drag this out. The longer we’re at each other’s throats, the longer Ramirez can’t relax or conduct business without watching his back. The longer he can’t smuggle his drugs into the country. The longer he can’t focus on selling his women.”
“And for you? What’s this war going to distract you from, Rebel?” she looks dubious.
I smirk, thinking about shrugging my shoulders but then dismissing the idea as entirely not worth the accompanying pain. “The Widow Makers run guns. As an illegal trade, that’s how all the syndicates think we make our money. It’s how the ATF think but can’t prove we make our money. In reality, the Widowers trade in information more than anything else. Information is far more valuable than gold or silver, drugs or guns. It can build or collapse an empire overnight. The only thing more reliable for bringing a dangerous man to his knees is *. And, as you’re already aware, we don’t sell that.”
“No,” she says, giving me a wry glance. “You only buy it.”
“If I don’t, someone else will. Difference being is that I find secure, honest, healthy work for the women we pay for. They leave this compound untouched. If Julio had bought you for himself, guaranteed you’d have already been accosted more times than you could count, and by more men than you could count, too. Would you have preferred that?”
Sophia remains silent. She glares at me like she hates me, but maybe, just maybe, like she’s also considering that I may have done her a favor. Doesn’t look like she’ll be admitting that any time soon, though. I pull in a deep breath, testing out how deeply I can fill my lungs without experiencing any sharp, crippling pain.
“Ramirez is here because he’s making his first move. He’s being reckless. Perhaps I need to be, too.”
“I think it’s a little late for that, right?” Soph eyes my blood-covered torso with what looks like regret. “I’m really sorry. I had no idea you were hurt. You know that, right? I would never have—”
“Stop. I deserved it. We’re all good.”
“Still. Launching myself at you like that—
“Is part of the reason why I like you, Sophia. That fiery temper of yours is insanely hot. You looked like some wild Amazon, ready to skin me alive. I was halfway to a boner before you nearly killed me.”
Sophia ducks her head, eyes skating over the floorboards, not looking at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was embarrassed. “Maybe you should use me as bait,” she says abruptly. “At least that way, if my presence is somehow a catalyst for drawing Ramirez and Raphael out, then this can all be over. We could all go back to living our lives.”
Laughter itches at the back of my throat. Scathing, ironic laughter. I swallow it back down. See, the thing Sophia doesn’t quite realize yet is that this is my life. When this is all over, if I’m not dead, there will always be someone else to contend with someone else to put down. Someone else who will want to take what is ours.
I can’t tell her that, though. She’ll run for the hills, and despite my previous pathetic attempt at doing the right thing, I know now that it’s just not possible. I have plans for the girl sitting crossed legged on the floor by my bed. Big, awesome, scary plans. I’m going to keep my mouth shut about those, too, though. Right now, there’s only one thing I need to tell her.
“I’m not endangering you with those men again, Sophia. No way. Not happening. There are a lot of things I’ll risk to end this. I’ll risk my own life, and the lives of my club members, if they’re stupid enough to volunteer them. I’ll risk my freedom and every last cent I own. I’ll risk the sun and the moon, and the wind on my face. But not you, Soph. I’ll never risk you.”