Blood Roses
he repeated.
She didn't realize she had unconsciously picked the book again, in the heat of the argument.
She laid it atop the desk, careful not to expose the open page.
Names glared in her periphery. Montoya still screaming in ink.
Alejandro slammed the cover shut.
“Leave,” he ordered.
Inés hesitated.
One second too long.
The study door burst inward.
Alonso strode in, curls rebel-wild, grin gone.
“What is going on?”
His gaze ping-ponged; gun, brother, maid.
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