Rafe spoke softly. He never needed to raise his voice. He simply looked at his men and gestured toward the mess that had once been a live woman, now something he considered trash for them to take out.

April had cleaned their home, and Catarina had followed her everywhere. She’d been one of the few people who had been kind. She’d even helped Catarina learn to read and write, and Catarina had gotten her killed.

“Who killed her, Ms. Benoit?” Tuttle asked. “You didn’t say who held you there and pushed the knife into April.”

She raised stricken eyes to him. “I don’t know. I didn’t see his face.”

He sighed. “Now you’re lying to me.”

“My back was to him. He wore gloves. Black gloves. I never saw his face.” That was true. She hadn’t needed to see his face. She recognized his scent. His hard body. His voice that never changed. He terrified her.

“I’m going to get you some water.”

She was surprised by the compassion in Tuttle’s voice. He left the room briefly, just enough time for her to press her trembling hand against her mouth. She breathed in over and over, trying to keep from throwing up. She had nightmares and there was no way to ever get that scene out of her head, but talking about it was far worse.

The details. The smell. The horror of it. All along her mother had been dead. Rafe casually told her the truth. That was the thing about him. He didn’t hide what he was from her. He didn’t lie to her. He always told the truth. She’d been stupid enough to ask him if he’d killed her mother.

She was a whore, Catarina, he had explained patiently. She didn’t need to be, but she turned herself into one because she couldn’t live without drugs. Addiction is a terrible weakness. She sold you to me for drugs. Her stepchild she should have loved and protected. I couldn’t let her touch you. I couldn’t ever allow that woman to harm you through her addiction. She came back wanting more drugs. She threatened to take you back and sell you to men. She claimed that I had conned her and that had she kept you, you would have been an endless source of revenue for her.

Catarina knew he told the truth, because he always did. The stark truth. He never tried to soft soap it. There were no such things as white lies. Her mother, or rather stepmother, really had done all those things. She was the only mother Catarina had ever known. Catarina, for whatever reason, was under Rafe’s protection. She’d been threatened and he’d removed the threat. Just like that.