Moon reaches for the bedside phone, picks it up, and speaks to someone in Spanish. I watch dreamily as he walks away from the bed, enters the bathroom, and returns a few minutes later. He’s carrying a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a cup. He rests them on the nightstand beside the bed.He helps me sit and places an extra pillow behind my back. After putting a small amount of toothpaste on the toothbrush, he hands it to me. I don’t look at him while I brush my teeth. He’s too close, and even though we shared a bath last night, this seems somehow more personal. I eventually look up and he hands me the cup to spit. After he takes the item back to the bathroom, he returns and nudges me over with his hip so he can sit.He pushes my hair behind my shoulders. “How are you feeling?”The words spill out before I can stop them. “Sore, ugly… dirty,” I add. So very, very dirty. My actions caused the death of an innocent person, and I’m lying in the bed of a criminal trying to keep my sexual thoughts

I push aside the fact that my face and hair are a mess. I want one night. One night of not thinking about crime, or death, or doing the right thing. I inhale slowly. It’s a night I can’t afford to take. I know if I do, there will be no going back.“Everything,” I tell him. His eyes go dark.It’s my turn to qualify. “The sandwich, just put everything on it, please.”He finishes making our sandwiches. The entire process is calm and methodical and seems to be a fundamental part of him. He returns the mayo, mustard, and assorted lunch meats to the fridge. He removes two plates from a cabinet and places the sandwiches on top. He fills two glasses of water, snags a bag of chips from another cupboard, and makes two trips to the table to place everything on it.“Eat while I clean up. I know you’re hungry.”I grab my sandwich with both hands. “I’m surprised you don’t save the dishes for someone else.” The sandwich smells delicious, but then liver would smell good right now and I hate liver.“M

Moon is looking deep into my eyes, and I can tell that something he sees disturbs him. His expression changes. His tone becomes hard and inflexible. “You’re taken in by the outer facade. The darkness I carry is hidden on the inside.” His fingers thread through my hair and he tightens the strands within his fists to make a point. “The things I do are cold and calculated. Don’t be fooled and think I’m good, baby.”I don’t believe him. “Tell me about your mother.” I need Moon to be my knight in shining armor. I need him to be good and worthy of the feelings that are raging through me.His expression doesn’t change, but his words surprise me. “She would have liked you.”I laugh because he has no idea. “Mothers never like me,” I tell him. I’m not putting myself down, just stating fact. I see it in their eyes when I’m introduced. My large breasts and curvy body give me a voluptuous, sex kitten look—aka trampy. Moms know exactly what their sons see in me. They don’t feel I’m a good candidate

Moon rolls us until I’m back on my side. He stands and crosses the room until he disappears into the closet. He comes out a minute later and turns on the bedside reading light. He places a large album on the bed. “Pick it up,” he says softly. I’m in no mood to do anything he asks, but the look in his eyes lets me know I should pick up the album. Moon’s knee hits the bed and he situates the pillows before joining me and sitting back against them. He reaches over and literally pulls me up so my back is against him and I’m wrapped in his arms.He takes the album from me and flips through several pages until he comes to a full-page picture of three teenagers. One is Moon, another is Gomez, and the third a young woman. Her skin is lighter than Moon’s, but her Mexican heritage is evident. What astounds me is that if my skin were darker, we could be sisters.I don’t understand. “Who is she?”Moon’s finger slides over the image. “Alex’s sister.”“What happened to her?” I’m so afraid to hear h

I head into the closet and pull out the red bikini that I spotted the first day. It has a complex system of straps and covers practically nothing. No way did Gabriella choose this. I try it on, and like everything else, it fits perfectly. Too much skin, but that’s how it’s designed. I pull a flower print sundress over the swimsuit and slip my feet into red four-inch heels that come very close to matching the bikini. The heels are not my usual footwear and I sincerely hope I don’t break an ankle. There is nothing I can do about my face, and I refuse to hide it. I pull my semi-wet hair into a French braid and nab a pair of Moon’s sunglasses from a shelf in his closet. I didn’t find any large gold chains to go with Moon’s thug image. Too bad because I’d have worn one.He has two books on his nightstand. One is a business book that I’ll admit sounds thoroughly boring. The other is Lincoln and His Admirals by Craig Symonds. I’ve read several Lincoln biographies and other books about the Ci