I sat with my back to the wall, facing the bar. I was able to see Paul and would see Mr. Sanchez when he arrived. I didn’t want to admit it but having Paul there put me at ease. I wasn’t in a hotel room and I would never be in one again with a client, but having my man there was like having backup even if I had my gun sitting in my clutch purse that was on the table.

The busser came over and left a glass of water, a basket of tortilla chips and a dish of salsa. I caught the gaze of Paul. I expected him to be sipping a Coke and tequila, but he too was drinking water. He winked at me and I blushed. I couldn’t help it. No matter how mad I was that he’d insisted on coming with me to my date, I still loved him with all of my heart. I knew he was only doing it because he loved me. I couldn’t imagine what would have happened if that man had raped me. It would have destroyed everything we’d built. I don’t think I would have been able to survive it, let alone the touch of a man again.

“Preciosa.” Gorgeous.

I looked up and into the same eyes I looked into every day in the mirror and blinked, unable to say anything. My mouth went dry. My heart stopped beating. I was certain I couldn’t breathe.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and slid into his chair in front of me. “Have we met before?”

We had.

I’d raised him from the moment he was born until I went running for my life.

My gaze flicked to Paul’s—I needed him. I needed him to breathe because I couldn’t. This wasn’t happening. What did I do? How did I tell the man sitting across from me that he was my brother?

“That’s not possible. I know all the whores in this town.”

He didn’t recognize me, but I was sure of it. This was my brother. My gaze flicked down to his hand that was running along the condensation of the ice water. Along the inside of his palm was the mark from the cigarette burn my mother gave him when he was four and she’d used him as an ashtray.

I smiled tightly and took a sip of my water, trying to think of what to do. He’d hired me as an escort. Obviously I wasn’t going to—gross!

“So tell me, Andi,” he leaned forward, crossed his hands on the table and looked into my eyes, “what do you think gives you the right to disobey my orders?”

My head tilted to the side in confusion. “Your orders?”

He smirked. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Bryce,” I whispered.

He leaned back in his chair. “Well, that’s funny. Usually the whores I fuck are the only ones who know my first name.”

“I—”

“Which one of my whores is running her mouth, Andi? Huh?” He hit the table with his fist and I jumped. Paul looked over and I shook my head slightly.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He leaned forward again. “I’ll ask you again. What gives you the right to disobey my orders?”

“What orders?” I asked, scrunching my eyebrows.

“Come on, Andi. Don’t play stupid. I know some of you whores are stupid, but you don’t look like one of them. Jasmine told me you were smart. Let’s act like it.”

My head cocked back. “Jasmine?”

“Okay, so you are stupid.” He laughed.

My gaze flicked to Paul and he was staring at us. I wanted to motion for him to come sit with us, be my back-up. I felt like my head was spinning. I was talking about one thing and Bryce was talking about another—and then it clicked.

“You’re Martinez?”

“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner, folks!”

When I’d left the hotel twelve years ago, I thought I would return to the trailer park to save Bryce, but forty-eight hours later I’d learned that Tony took him and my mother, only to never be heard of again—until now. I never knew why.

As I stared into the honey eyes that were similar to mine, I knew there was no saving this man I didn’t know. It was too late. Even though he had my eyes, his weren’t warm and inviting. They were cold and dark, as if they didn’t care if he lived or died on any given day. Tony had raised him and made him the man he was today. The boy I was raising would never treat a woman the way he was speaking to me. He would never call women whores. Would never order a woman around. He would be more like Paul—more like Seth even.

I gave Paul one final look and then I acted. Whatever happened beyond this point was out of my control. I had a gun and if I had to shoot my own blood, then that was what I was going to do. Paul raised his eyebrows and his gaze lowered to my hand as it went inside my clutch. I saw him reach behind his back as I pulled my gun out and stood.

“FBI. Get on the fucking ground, hands behind you back.” I pointed my gun at Bryce and he laughed.

Paul stood with a look of confusion on his face as his gaze went back and forth between me and my brother.

“Get on the fucking ground!” I repeated, the gun in both of my hands as I pointed it at him.

Two big goons ran in behind Bryce. Paul pulled his gun and pointed it at them. They skidded to a stop and drew their own guns. “All right, everyone needs to calm the fuck down,” Bryce interjected, trying to get everyone to lower their weapons. People in the restaurant were screaming and running for the doors.

“Bryce, you’re not running the show. Get on the fucking ground. I’m not going to ask you again!”

Bryce laughed again, grabbing his belly as though he couldn’t contain himself. “I don’t take orders from whores!”

Reaching into my purse, I grabbed my wallet and pulled my badge out. “Does this look like I’m fucking around?” I shouted, showing him my credentials that accompanied the gold plated badge.

The sound of guns cocking followed by pop, pop, pop sent the room into a frenzy. Pain tore through the flesh of my right arm, causing me to lose my balance as I saw Paul rush Bryce. He tackled him, sending them both crashing into the wood table. Fists flew as Paul connected his with Bryce’s jaw and I scrambled to my feet. Paul flipped him over, pulling Bryce’s arms behind his back with a little more force than necessary.

With the barrel of the gun against the back of his head, I repeated myself again to Bryce, “Hands behind your back.”

Paul held him as I looked for Bryce’s guys. They were lying motionless in puddles of blood where they stood before.

“You shot them?” I asked Paul.

“They shot at you first.”

I looked down at my arm, blood trickled down and onto the butt of the gun I was aiming at Bryce on the floor. Sirens could be heard in the distance and I knew I would be fine. “Thank you.”

“When were you going to tell me you were FBI?”

I sighed. “I couldn’t.”

“Why? You told me other things.”

“I’m undercover.”

He gave a sarcastic chuckle. “Is your name even Andi?”

I was tired of lying. I was tired of lying to everyone. I’d been lying for twelve years. And most of all, I loved Paul. I loved him so much. I wanted to spend forever with him. I wanted to hear him call me by my real name—groan my real name when he made love to me. Tell the real me that he loved me.

“You’ll want to hear this too,” I said to Bryce as I nudged his side with my foot. He snorted as if I lost my mind, but turned his head as if curiosity got the best of him.

“My name’s Joselyn Marquez.”

Chapter Twenty

Joselyn

Realization flashed across Bryce’s face the moment I uttered my real name and it seemed as though it vanished. Paul was still looking at me as though his heart was breaking in two. Everything was a disaster. It was the wrong timing for all of it to go down. I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be reunited with my brother and arresting him because he was the ringleader in the sex trafficking case I was undercover in. I wanted to kick and scream at the thought of how this had happened. How he fucking grew up to become this man.