When Lies Unfold

Chapter 11

The instantI set foot in Aarón’s small office building, I know something’s off.

Instead of sitting behind his large teak desk that’s seen better days, he stands behind it. Through the glass windows of his office, the usual stack of paperwork designating the homes requiring cleaning is scattered about.

Sabrina rushes over to me the instant she sees me and blurts out an apology. “Lo! I’m so sorry.”

I offer her a comforting smile, because Sabrina’s not like some of the other women working for Aarón—the ones who slack off on the job or frequently call in sick. She’s a hard worker like me.

“It’s fine.” I give her hand a quick squeeze. “Are you feeling any better?”

She lifts a shoulder in a partial shrug, her poor voice possessing a thick layer of congestion. “A little.”

My lips part to respond, but Aarón’s voice booms from inside his office. “Lola? I need to speak with you.” Through the glass, his gaze flits toward Sabrina before returning to me. “Alone.”

Sabrina and I exchange a concerned look as nervousness causes the pit of my stomach to maw open. Did I forget to clean something? I pride myself on my work, but after what’s recently transpired, my mind is a frazzled mess.

Worry creases Sabrina’s brow, but she leaves the office quietly. Aarón strides over and closes the door with a firm palm.

When he turns to face me, my stomach curdles with fear. “Lola…” He appears to struggle to find his words before gesturing toward the set of chairs opposite his desk. “Have a seat.”

Regarding him uneasily as he takes a seat behind his desk, I lower myself into a chair. With his elbows resting on the wooden surface, he steeples his fingers and winces as if he’s about to deliver terrible news.

Oh, God. Is he going to fire me?

“Lola, it’s been brought to my attention that…some circumstances changed on Friday night.”

His phrasing makes me narrow my eyes in suspicion which is proven to be warranted when he continues.

“As of now, you’ll have someone who…oversees your work each day.”

I stare at him for a moment. Surely, I didn’t hear him correctly. My words emerge slowly. “Someone will ‘oversee’ my work?”

“Yes.”

I wait for him to expand, but he doesn’t. The longer I sit and stare at him expectantly, the more he appears to fidget.

I fold my arms across my chest. “And who exactly will be overseeing my work each day?”

His avoidance of eye contact—a completely abnormal quality for Aarón—sends a powerful sense of foreboding washing over me.

I slump back in my seat as a loud exhale rushes past my lips. “Let me guess. A certain man with a tiny ponytail who goes around with an entourage?”

Releasing a heavy breath, he finally meets my eyes. “Look, Lola. It’s out of my hands.” He holds up his palms. “I don’t know what happened Friday night and don’t want to. What I do know is, it’s in everyone’s best interest to follow orders.”

My opinion of Aarón has decreased within mere seconds. I never would’ve expected him to consort with a known criminal—a murderous narco, nonetheless.

I jump up from my seat. “And you’re fine with this?” My voice rises incrementally as I wave my hand, gesturing outside his office. “You’re fine with throwing me to the wolves?”

He darts out of his chair and shushes me, worry etched on his taut features. “Keep your voice down! We don’t need the others overhearing anything.”

I fist my hands at my sides and glare at the man I once regarded as a small savior. A man I thought was good, through and through.

A man I would’ve never expected to cave to the wishes of a criminal.

I massage my temples and drag in a deep lungful of air before exhaling slowly.

Aarón doesn’t understand. He can’t, because he doesn’t know that I once had to claw my way free of an imprisoned life. That a part of me had to die to escape the dictator I’d been held captive by.

And now, he’s forcing me to dip my toe back into a world where I have my every move examined and critiqued. Where I’m a prisoner all over again.

My voice is subdued and lifeless. “I hope you realize that you’re killing me by going along with this. Maybe not immediately, but it will happen.”

I turn and reach for the door handle, twisting it, but pause when Aarón’s fingertips graze my elbow.

“I’m sorry, Lola.”

I don’t bother to face him. I can’t bear to look at him at this point. “Me, too,” comes my quiet response before I tug open the door and step out.

We barely make it through the second house when I insist Sabrina head home to rest.

“Are you sure?” A powerful sneeze punctuates her question. “I don’t want you to get into more trouble.”

Shit. I told a little lie when she asked me why Aarón had wanted to speak to me alone. Instead of the truth, I said that he reprimanded me for not being forthcoming about cleaning on my own without her.

I hate lying to Sabrina, but it’s not like I can tell her the truth.

“Yes, I’m sure.” I shoo her out the door as I lock up. “Now, go home and rest as much as possible.” With a wink, I add, “I’ll cover for you with Aarón, so don’t worry about anything.”

Gratitude shines on her features as she offers me a weak smile. “I owe you huge.”

Shoving the spare key into the zippered compartment in my bag, I loop the strap across my chest. I grab the trash bag and head to the garbage basket at the end of the driveway. Once I toss the bag in, I dust off my hands. “I’ll see you later.”

“Thank you, Lo. So much.” She walks backward a few steps. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I wag a finger at her. “Not if you aren’t feeling better, you won’t.”

She blows me a kiss and turns, disappearing down the road as she walks home.

I head in the opposite direction, the hot sun beating down on me as I trudge along the rocky road.

Walking everywhere is common throughout this village, especially since taxes on vehicles tend to be pricey. Hitching a ride on the back of a motorcycle or in someone’s car is a regular—and safe—occurrence.

I don’t normally do that since I prefer to walk. I don’t mind the exercise. It’s not easy climbing these steep, unpaved roads, but I relish in the challenge. It reminds me that I’m alive. That it’s a gift that I woke up today and can move the way I can.

That I’m free to move about.

Of course, on the heels of this thought, a dark SUV pulls up alongside me, but I ignore it and continue on my way.

I’m almost to the crest of the hill where I’ll turn right to head to my next cleaning assignment. Once I arrive at the corner, the SUV darts in front of me, effectively blocking my way, and the rear door shoves open.

“Get in.”

I’d recognize that obnoxious commanding voice even if I didn’t notice the tattooed arm holding the door open.

“I’d rather not.” I weave around the vehicle, attempting to continue on my way, when my ponytail is caught in a stronghold. “Motherfucker!”

A strong, unforgiving arm encircles my waist before I’m hauled inside the vehicle. Absently, I register how he cradles my head to prevent me from accidentally banging it on the SUV’s frame. So contradictory.

Santiago slams the door shut. The broad-shouldered man in the driver’s seat—Gordo—navigates the road with practiced ease, avoiding the ruts and potholes. Another intimidating henchman sits beside him in the passenger seat.

“Look like you’re pissed.”

I greet his asinine observation with a scathing look. “Wow, why on earth would you think that? You’ve only inserted yourself in my life and threatened me multiple times.” Sarcasm encases each of my words. “As if that’s not enough, I was informed by my boss that someone will oversee my work from now on.”

Dark eyes never leave mine. “Think of it as a form of insurance.”

“I think of it as more of another asshole move by you.” I should be careful of my responses, but I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to this man. I’m off-kilter and flailing for the security I’ve become accustomed to for the last five years.

And this man is single-handedly responsible for upending everything.

A muscle in his cheek flexes, those lips flattening with irritation. “What’d I tell you about that mouth?”

I offer an empty smile. “That you appreciated someone who didn’t cave to your every whim?”

What sounds an awful lot like a stifled chuckle erupts from Gordo. Santiago cuts him a scathing look before resettling his attention on me.

“You talk to anybody lately?”

I bat my eyelashes. “You mean besides the bastard who lets himself into my house uninvited?”

His jaw tightens as our matching icy glares hold firm, neither of us willing to give in.

Gordo pulls into the driveway of the house I’m due to clean. I rest my fingers on the door handle, prepared to jump out, when Santiago’s voice stops me.

“You know ’bout your fingerprints?”

Forcing myself to maintain even breaths, I turn to face him with a frown of confusion. “What?”

His critical survey elicits a sensation of tiny needles pricking along every inch of my skin. “Your fingerprints don’t match anythin’.”

I shrug. “I’ve never been arrested, so why would they?—”

He cuts me off, his tone sharp and steely. “What I’m sayin’ is, they don’t match your ID on file.” His probing gaze bores into me, at odds with the casual way he rests an arm along the back of the seat. “Seems kinda odd to me. How ’bout you explain that?”

“I don’t know.” Confusion mingles with defensiveness in my voice. “It’s not something that’s ever been brought to my attention.”

“Really.” Doubt drenches his toneless response.

“Yes, really.” Thick exasperation is threaded through each of my words. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”

I push open the door, about to exit the vehicle, when strong fingers encircle my elbow, effectively stopping me.

“I’ve got my eyes on you, Miss Arias.”

With that ominous declaration, I jerk my arm free of his hold and slip from the SUV.