When Lies Unfold

Chapter 26

Gordo collectsme from my last cleaning assignment, and the moment I slide into the backseat, I instantly pick up on a much different vibe.

“How was your day?”

I squint at him suspiciously as he easily navigates the rough, bumpy road. “Are we pretending to be friends now?” There’s no way in hell he can miss my sarcasm.

His mouth quirks up. “I’d rather be friends than enemies with somebody who knows how to get outta zip ties.”

Turning my focus on the thick, green, dense jungle alongside the road, I mutter without thinking, “Gotta do what you gotta do to survive.”

His response is quick but without judgment, surprisingly enough. “That’s what I thought.”

When he continues, his conversational tone is misleading. “When I was younger, there was this kid in my school. He lived in a different neighborhood. In a run-down place everybody made fun of.”

Gordo stops at the one-way bridge, yielding to the cars with the right-of-way. “He’d be wearin’ wrinkled clothes and would inhale the school lunch like it was gonna be his last meal.

“Sometimes, he’d have visible bruises. More often than not, though, he’d look so damn tired, his eyes had permanent dark circles beneath ’em.”

I study Gordo’s profile as his mouth flattens, his hands tensing their grip on the steering wheel. “His parents were addicts. They were fuckin’ scum, too, if you wanna know the truth.”

He expels a slow breath, disgust dripping from every word. “His parents got his sister addicted, and she followed in their footsteps. They’d beat on him. They’d sell off everythin’ they fuckin’ had for their next fix. Even tried to sell him once, too.”

Horror floods me at the idea of a small, helpless child in that position.

My tone is gentle. “Let me guess. That kid was you.”

“Nope.” His immediate response surprises me. His eyes briefly lock with mine in the rearview mirror before returning to the road. “That kid was Santiago.”

Shock reverberates through me. What?

As if privy to my thoughts, Gordo nods. “Yeah. He had to grow up fast and learn to be a fighter early on. He didn’t have anybody to protect him—only had himself to rely on.”

“I know the feeling.” The words spill out on their own, so quiet I expect them to be swallowed by the sound of the air-conditioning pumping through the vents.

“That’s what I thought.”

I eye him warily. “Why are you telling me this?”

He shrugs as the vehicle climbs the steep drive to Santiago’s compound. “Sometimes, people got a lot more in common than they think. And maybe you gotta give a little to get somethin’ in return.”

“You do realize how suspicious this all seems.” I fix him with a dubious stare. “After being interrogated last night.”

“Yeah, well…” He huffs out a breath. “We talked and agreed that you haven’t been treated in the best way.”

“You think so?”

His eyes spark with amusement at my cynicism-laced remark. “You’re gonna be treated like a guest from now on. You can come and go as you normally would in your own place.”

His announcement hangs between us as he parks in front of Santiago’s home. Turning in his seat, Gordo pins me with a hard expression that I’m sure has most people shitting themselves.

“But know that if you fuck it up, you won’t like the consequences.”

Once I offer a curt nod, he appears satisfied, his shoulders releasing some of their tension as we exit the vehicle.

Gesturing for me to precede him in entering Santiago’s home, I take one step, then stop and spin around to face him.

With a trace of concern etched on his features, his gaze narrows. “What?”

“Won’t he be”—I wave a hand dismissively—“upset knowing you told me all that?”

“Nah.” Leaning closer, he lowers his voice, and it holds more than a hint of smug amusement. “’Cause I didn’t tell you anythin’ that’s a secret.”

I study him for a second before wagging my finger at him. “This whole good cop act is a waste, because I don’t have anything to hide.”

He adopts a wounded look. “That hurts my feelin’s. I thought we were becomin’ friends.” His mouth curves into a hopeful grin. “We could be LoGo.”

A surprised huff falls from my lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I brush past him, shaking my head.

“GorLol?” he calls after me. He doesn’t bother to disguise his amusement. “C’mon, now. What about GorLol?”

When a faint smile tugs at my lips, I scold myself and increase my pace. Because I’d be stupid to think Santiago’s second-in-command is being nice to me without an agenda.

Once I enter my bedroom and close the door behind me, I lean against it and expel a relieved breath. Slipping off my shoes, I toss my bag on the bed and head for the bathroom to shower. The instant I step toward the vanity, however, I stop dead in my tracks.

Sitting on the counter is a large bottle of castor oil—the highest quality on the market—and a container of cayenne pepper. Beside the two items is a small note.

Hesitance cloaks my movement as I pick it up.

For your wrists.

That’s it. That’s all that’s written. There’s no signature, but I know exactly who it’s from. The memory of our earlier conversation replays in my mind.

“It hurts?”

“Nothing a little castor oil and cayenne pepper won’t fix.”

I take one last look at the written words before squeezing my eyes shut and crumbling the note in my fist. I can’t afford to lower my defenses toward him.

I just can’t.

It’s what has me taking my phone into the bathroom and closing the door behind me.

Once I retrieve the small object from where it’s been safely hidden, affixed to the false bottom of a round lip balm container, a sense of comfort washes over me.

It’s been long enough. After last night, I’m taking back some of the control Santiago’s ripped away from me.

After I remove and replace the SIM card from my phone, I wait for it to reboot, my thoughts whirling as a plan forms.

Then I send off a text.

I can come to you this evening.

When those three dots begin dancing, my shoulders slump in relief.

I’ll be here.

As quickly as I did it a moment ago, I switch the SIM cards back and return the one to its hiding place.

Tonight will give me what I need. I’ll not only prove to myself that I have what it takes to evade an arrogant, domineering criminal, but I’ll be seizing the opportunity to help someone in need.

I’ll be proving that the tiniest thread of that long-lost part of me, the one that was all but eviscerated, still manages to live on.

Sabrina’s text messages tonight serve as the tiny light at the end of this nightmare of a tunnel.

Sabrina

You know you can come clean right now.

Me

About?

Sabrina

The photos of that man on the Internet—good god. He may be a criminal, but he’s a thirst trap, for sure. I don’t blame you for letting yourself be whisked away.

But in all seriousness, I worry about you, Lo.

Me

It’s not like that.

And I know. But you don’t need to worry.

Sabrina

Then what’s it like?

Me

We’ve already been over this.

I’ve said all I can say.

Sabrina

Fine. But can I ask one favor?

Me

What?

Sabrina

Promise me you’ll be careful.

Me

I promise.

That’s one promise I can carry out.

I’m being as careful as I possibly can.