Read Online Dirty Angels 02 Dirty Deeds by Karina Halle - Free Book Online
Authors: Karina Halle
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a bomb – the very thing that killed my sister – was a sinister reminder of Violetta’s violent death.
“How could you say that was silly?” I whispered.
He exhaled sharply. “Because we should have known better. We should have seen it coming from a mile away. The road hadn’t been checked and were weren’t using due diligence.”
“Why not?”
“Because we were young kids. Because we’d seen so much, every day, that after a while you become desensitized. You stop caring. And you think you’re invincible. Until it happens to you.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine,” he said. “This was a long time ago. I use due diligence now.”
“But you’re no longer in the army.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not. But it doesn’t mean life isn’t waiting out there to get you unaware.”
I raised my brows and took a sip of my coffee while I mulled that over. He was sounding a lot like Luz. Perhaps they had more in common than they thought.
“So how old are you?” he asked, seeming to want to change the subject. I couldn’t blame him. I was sorry I brought it up to begin with.
“Twenty-four,” I told him. “Going on forty.”
He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What makes you say that?”
I shrugged. He may have brought up his battles but I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring up mine. The fastest way to scare a guy off is to tell him your brother is the leader of one of the most powerful drug cartels and aside from your twin sister, the rest of your family was murdered in related incidents. Violent, messy, disgusting incidents.
“I’ve always felt older, that’s all.”
“No boyfriend? No husband?”
I tilted my head and gave him a wry look. “Do you think I’d be out here with you if I had either of those?”
“I don’t know,” he said, leaning back in his chair. His chest muscles moved smoothly under his tank. “Maybe you’re in one of those open relationships. You never know with Mexicans.”
“Hey,” I warned him. “If I wasn’t so cripple, I’d reach over and smack you right now.”
“Good thing you’re a cripple then. You seem to be part wildcat.”
I made a claw scratch motion with my good hand. “You have no idea.”
That got a smirk out of him so I turned the tables.
“All right, hot shot,” I said to him, “what about you? Girlfriend? Wife?”
His lips twisted sourly and for a heart-stopping moment I was afraid he actually did have one or the other. But he said, “No, I don’t.”
Yet there was more to it. I quickly glanced at his hand and didn’t see a ring or even the tanline of one. I knew already he didn’t wear a wedding ring – it was usually one of the first things I noticed about a man – but I had to double check.
He caught me looking but still didn’t say anything.
“Ex-wife?” I asked.
He hesitated and by doing so was already telling the truth. I think he knew this because he looked down at the coffee in his hand and exhaled.
After a moment’s pause – which felt like eternity – he said, “Yes. I was married once.”
And it was quite apparent he didn’t want to talk about it. But like the blumbering, stubborn fool that I was, I pried further. “Are you divorced?”
There was a barely visible shake to his head. “No. She died.”
And once again, I was an idiot. This poor fucking man.
“Shit,” I swore. “I’m so sorry. How did she die?”
At that he looked up and stared me dead in the eye. “Car accident,” he said, completely emotionless. Somehow, maybe because the way he was staring at me was almost a challenge, like he was calling me out on lying about something, I knew it wasn’t the truth. But I guess it didn’t really matter. When someone was dead, they were dead.
“I’m sorry,” I said and suddenly it felt like all I’d done so far was apologize. It served me right for bringing up such torrid topics.
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “It was a long time ago. I was a different
“How could you say that was silly?” I whispered.
He exhaled sharply. “Because we should have known better. We should have seen it coming from a mile away. The road hadn’t been checked and were weren’t using due diligence.”
“Why not?”
“Because we were young kids. Because we’d seen so much, every day, that after a while you become desensitized. You stop caring. And you think you’re invincible. Until it happens to you.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine,” he said. “This was a long time ago. I use due diligence now.”
“But you’re no longer in the army.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not. But it doesn’t mean life isn’t waiting out there to get you unaware.”
I raised my brows and took a sip of my coffee while I mulled that over. He was sounding a lot like Luz. Perhaps they had more in common than they thought.
“So how old are you?” he asked, seeming to want to change the subject. I couldn’t blame him. I was sorry I brought it up to begin with.
“Twenty-four,” I told him. “Going on forty.”
He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What makes you say that?”
I shrugged. He may have brought up his battles but I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring up mine. The fastest way to scare a guy off is to tell him your brother is the leader of one of the most powerful drug cartels and aside from your twin sister, the rest of your family was murdered in related incidents. Violent, messy, disgusting incidents.
“I’ve always felt older, that’s all.”
“No boyfriend? No husband?”
I tilted my head and gave him a wry look. “Do you think I’d be out here with you if I had either of those?”
“I don’t know,” he said, leaning back in his chair. His chest muscles moved smoothly under his tank. “Maybe you’re in one of those open relationships. You never know with Mexicans.”
“Hey,” I warned him. “If I wasn’t so cripple, I’d reach over and smack you right now.”
“Good thing you’re a cripple then. You seem to be part wildcat.”
I made a claw scratch motion with my good hand. “You have no idea.”
That got a smirk out of him so I turned the tables.
“All right, hot shot,” I said to him, “what about you? Girlfriend? Wife?”
His lips twisted sourly and for a heart-stopping moment I was afraid he actually did have one or the other. But he said, “No, I don’t.”
Yet there was more to it. I quickly glanced at his hand and didn’t see a ring or even the tanline of one. I knew already he didn’t wear a wedding ring – it was usually one of the first things I noticed about a man – but I had to double check.
He caught me looking but still didn’t say anything.
“Ex-wife?” I asked.
He hesitated and by doing so was already telling the truth. I think he knew this because he looked down at the coffee in his hand and exhaled.
After a moment’s pause – which felt like eternity – he said, “Yes. I was married once.”
And it was quite apparent he didn’t want to talk about it. But like the blumbering, stubborn fool that I was, I pried further. “Are you divorced?”
There was a barely visible shake to his head. “No. She died.”
And once again, I was an idiot. This poor fucking man.
“Shit,” I swore. “I’m so sorry. How did she die?”
At that he looked up and stared me dead in the eye. “Car accident,” he said, completely emotionless. Somehow, maybe because the way he was staring at me was almost a challenge, like he was calling me out on lying about something, I knew it wasn’t the truth. But I guess it didn’t really matter. When someone was dead, they were dead.
“I’m sorry,” I said and suddenly it felt like all I’d done so far was apologize. It served me right for bringing up such torrid topics.
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “It was a long time ago. I was a different
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