Free The Five Deaths of Roxanne Love by Erin Quinn Page B

night.”
    Roxanne glared at him. “You didn’t just call me a liar, right? Because you’ve got me beat there, Detective. Why don’t we talk about your wife some more? Was any of that the truth?”
    His face paled, and now his dark eyes looked like pits. She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, refusing to release the tears that pressed against her eyes. But he’d hurt her. She’d trusted him and he’d hurt her.
    “I don’t understand this, Santo. Any of it. I can’t figure you out. What do you expect of me? Just tell me who you are.”
    His guarded look fueled her anger. He was sorting his words again, determining which version of his lies to tell her.
    At last he said quietly, “You know who I am.”
    Fury built inside her and she had no desire to bring it down. She strode to the table, snatched his badge holder up, and threw it at him. It bounced off his chest.Santo didn’t even blink and she wanted to scream. She wanted to pummel his chest until he told her the truth. The real truth. The one that would make sense.
    She shoved him. Hard. It barely moved him so she did it again, putting all her strength behind it. He staggered a step back and caught her up to him, pinning her against his body.
    “Who are you?” she shouted at him.
    “Ask better questions, Roxanne.”
    “No. You answer the one I want. You tell me.”
    She tried to squirm free and he tightened his grip, keeping her arms pinned at her sides. He was a big man with hard muscles and more than a bit of his own anger. She should have been afraid to have rattled his cage. Instead she wanted to do it again.
    He put his mouth near her ear. “You know who I am.”
    His voice throbbed with something that spoke to her tumultuous emotions. She jerked her head away.
    “I’m the one,” he went on softly.
    The one.
    Through her anger, she heard it, felt it. And against her will, some part of her understood it.
    When she stilled, he moved his lips to the other ear. “The one who won’t let anyone hurt you. The one who’s going to keep you safe when they come for you. And they will.”
    She leaned back so she could see his face. She’d bea fool to believe anything he said. But she’d be an even bigger fool to ignore the warning even when it came from lying lips. She had seen the monsters—demons—come through the back door. She’d heard the masked man say Reece’s name. And she’d known when he’d looked at her standing next to Santo that she’d become a blip on his radar he wouldn’t ignore or forget.
    Santo had tried to protect her then. He’d stood between her and danger. He’d tried to pull her out of the fray. And after she’d been shot, he’d gotten her away instead of leaving her for dead. Even if she couldn’t believe what he said, she couldn’t deny his actions. He would protect her if— when —they came again.
    “They will come,” he repeated in a tone as dark as midnight. “And if they catch you, they’ll make you wish you could die.”
    His words echoed in a cavernous place inside her, too terrifying to take in all at once. Her lips felt numb as she whispered, “Why . . .”
    Why did they want her?
    Why did he care?
    He cupped her face in his palms, his hands blissfully warm against her cold cheeks. They felt like an anchor in an unpredictable storm—a storm he himself had brought when he’d walked through her door. She didn’t understand her own reactions when it came to Santo. A few seconds ago she wanted to hit him and now she . . .
    “Trust me a little longer, angelita, ” he murmured.
    “Don’t call me that. And I haven’t trusted you yet.”
    “Now who’s the liar?”
    She didn’t dispute it. He was right. Again. She didn’t know what she believed or what she wanted. The moment had turned without her knowledge, and her fury had faltered in the shifting winds. Mixed within her confusion, something stronger than rage smoldered red-hot. Something that sparked when his mouth touched her