When Lies Unfold

Chapter 28

I really need to do more pushups and pull-ups.

Fire. It feels as though the muscles in my arms have erupted into flames. Beads of sweat line my hairline, and my left hand aches so badly I’m fantasizing about cutting it off at the wrist.

The nighttime breeze has picked up, chilling the dampness that has my tank top clinging to the middle of my lower back.

I’m tempted to weep with relief once I pull myself back over the top of the railing. Leaning against it, I stare down into the dark abyss I just ascended from.

I did it. I really did it.

A potent dose of pride unfurls inside me, because this serves as proof that I’m not the weak, fragile woman I once was. The one who was beaten into submission for far too long.

When another strong breeze blows past me, a shiver rolls down my spine and I reach into my bag for my thin zip-up hoodie. I slide it on beneath my bag’s strap, and the warmth it provides relieves my chilled skin.

I pull the zipper up just beneath my breasts. Wiping the bottoms of my feet on the thick grass, I attempt to eliminate as much of the dirt and mud that may be clinging to me.

At least enough so I won’t end up tracking anything inside and leaving a trail. I can’t afford to give Santiago any reason to question me.

As I inhale a deep lungful of cool air, a faint smile graces my lips at the hint of natural floral sweetness it holds. I allow the tranquility of the evening to envelop me, and it takes a moment before I sense an additional presence. The instant I do, my muscles lock in place.

The faint but familiar scent that catches on the breeze has me relaxing mere seconds before a deep purring reaches my ears. Slowly, I turn to find two glowing eyes, and a jolt of surprise courses through me.

My whispered words seem to echo in the quiet stillness. “Cómo estás, Belleza?” How are you, Beauty?

Her approach is tentative before she rubs her nose against my outer thigh. I stroke behind her ears. “Did you come all this way to check on me?” I murmur quietly. “You’re such a sweet soul.”

She purrs even louder when I stroke along the back of her neck. “You’re the only friend I have these days who isn’t upset or disappointed with me in some way.

“Sabrina doesn’t understand what’s happening, and I can’t tell her, so…” At my dejected sigh, she peers up at me with a soulful gaze that sometimes seems otherworldly. As though she understands what it’s like to be an outcast.

“And now, here I am.” My voice is barely audible, the light breeze carrying most of it away. Sadness clings to my words, along with defeat that I’m too proud to admit to. “I thought I was free”—my pitiful excuse for a laugh sounds hollow—“but all I got was a minor reprieve.”

Throat growing tight with residual fear and exhaustion, bitterness infuses my words. “I’ve traded in one prison for another.”

Because even though I’ve been successful at evading Santiago’s security measures tonight, even though he’s granted me the ability to come and go as I please, it offers little consolation.

No one should be dictating my freedoms except for me. My life shouldn’t be like this. I never did anything to deserve this fate, least of all twice.

As if privy to my melancholy thoughts, Belleza rasps her rough tongue along the top of my hand. The gesture is so sweet and comforting, my chest aches as I struggle against the urge to cry and scream my frustration into the jungle.

In the next instant, her entire body turns rigid, her ears perking up. Her purrs morph, growing louder and possessing a sense of warning. Her breathing picks up pace as she edges forward in a protective stance.

I turn, searching for whatever spooked her, and my eyes settle on the shadowed figure standing a few yards away. I’m grateful for the shroud of darkness cast over me, because there’s no doubt he’d spot my dirty feet in a heartbeat. As it is, Belleza naturally blends in with the night shadows.

“Plottin’ your escape, Miss Arias?” A faint trace of amusement clings to his question.

“More like trying to get some peace without anyone bothering me.”

“Hmm.” A brief pause lingers, his voice shrouded with suspicion. “You always try to ‘get some peace’ wearin’ your bag?”

Shit. My mind scrambles in search of a decent excuse before I fire back hotly, “After the way you’ve uprooted my life and didn’t deliver my belongings right away, I’m feeling more than a little unsettled about leaving my stuff behind.”

His displeasure at my answer is tangible, radiating off him in thick waves. “Try again.”

“I brought my bag to Alma’s room because I had nail polish for her to choose from. We painted nails.”

“That so.” Doubt drenches each word before his voice shifts, becoming more alert.

He steps forward, casting himself in a shaft of light. The instant he comes into view, my breath leaches from my lungs. Clad in only a pair of tailored black pants that mold his muscular thighs, his bare torso puts his tattoos on full display.

The skull adorning his throat extends downward as part of a skeletal body in a robe. One bony hand holds a dagger while the other brandishes a skull dripping with blood. Etched in bold, black ink, the figure spans his entire chest and ends at his waistband. My traitorous fingertips twitch, longing to trace over the artwork.

His arms are covered in various tattooed designs of blood dripping from knives, skulls, and guns molded over the cuts and curves of his muscles. Though I estimate his age to be somewhere from early to mid-forties, his body doesn’t indicate it in the least. It’s clear he puts in the work to keep himself in prime condition.

Which is necessary for a man in his line of “work,” I suppose.

“You talkin’ to somebody out here?” His demanding tone jerks my attention off his body, but I’m not granted a chance to respond.

Belleza’s purrs grow even louder as she steps forward and into a shaft of light. Santiago draws his weapon, and I move in front of her protectively, holding up a hand to stop him. “Don’t shoot! She’s not a threat.”

Expression incredulous, his eyes flash with aggravation. “That’s a fuckin’ black puma right beside you.”

I settle a hand on Belleza’s back and smooth her silky fur in what I hope is a comforting stroke. Maintaining a calm tone, I repeat, “She’s not a threat, Santiago.”

Focusing on the large cat, I feel her muscles relax the tiniest fraction at my whispered words. “He won’t hurt you, sweetie. I won’t let him.”

His tone is commanding and steely. “Move outta the way.”

I coo softly to the cat while I answer him, “Nooo. I’m not going to do that, because you’re going to put your gun away.” Casting Santiago a pointed look, I tack on firmly, “Trust me. Just put the gun away.”

He visibly hesitates, and I know I’m asking a lot of him. Like her, he’s also territorial and proud. Once he finally lowers his weapon, a rush of an exhale falls past my lips. “See?” I whisper to her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She raises her head to peer up at me with her luminescent eyes before giving my hand a lick. Then she bounds away, over the railing, and disappears into the night.

Ensconced in taut silence, I turn to face him fully. His expression causes me to falter, however, because his face is a mask of fury. Gun now holstered, his hands clench and unclench at his sides.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” His tone holds a lethally dark undertone, each word slicing like a steel barb. “Messin’ with a wild animal like that?”

“You’re overreacting. I was never in danger.”

“I’m overreactin’?” He looks like he’s a second away from being well past the apoplectic stage. “You think I’m overreactin’ when there was a wild fuckin’ animal directly. Beside. You? It could’ve killed you!”

“I told you to trust me.” I heave out an aggrieved breath. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s my bedtime.” I stride forward, hating that I’m forced to walk past him to get by.

Of course, he’s not going to let me escape that easily. At the last second, he blocks my exit.

His nearness threatens me in so many ways. Something inside me must be broken, I’m convinced. That’s the only excuse for my reaction to a man like him. To feel electrified from the inside out. To feel alive.

It’s something I haven’t experienced in years.

I immediately stop my train of thought and shove it deep into one of the many vaults I keep locked away. To want a man—to crave both him and his touch—has been foreign to me.

It’s also decidedly idiotic.

As if that’s not enough, he’s immersed me in danger. I can’t afford to let myself get swept away on the basis of my libido.

His trademark masculine scent taunts my senses. Traces of light bathe his face, sweeping over the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the curve of his lips.

A hint of wonder laces his raspy voice. “So, Lola Arias has a way with wild animals, too…”

His gaze sweeps over my features. “You find that peace you were lookin’ for?” With a chin lift, he gestures to where the panther disappeared. “She help you find it?”

“Briefly.” I tip my chin up a fraction higher, pointedly holding his gaze. “But now, it’s suddenly vanished.”

The edges of his mouth tip up the slightest bit. “That so?”

I dart a glance past him. “Now, if you’ll be so kind as to let me past…” He closes the distance, bringing our bodies even closer.

“Did you get what I left you?” Voice uncharacteristically soft, his eyes drop to my wrists now hidden by the sleeves of my hoodie.

My lungs grow tight at what I swear is a hint of concern in his tone. “Yes.” I smother the urge to lower my defenses at his seemingly thoughtful gesture and follow-up, my words emerging stilted and almost robotic. “Thank you.”

A touch of amusement graces his lips an instant before it disappears. His thumb and forefinger reach for my hoodie’s zipper, and my breath suspends in my lungs.

With his hand so close to my breasts, my nipples tighten. When my body begins arching into him, I lock my muscles in place to stop it.

Even in the dim surroundings, his eyes gleam with awareness of my reaction, but he thankfully doesn’t say a word.

“You goin’ straight to bed?”

Confusion at his question has me frowning, my response emerging slowly. “Yes.”

“Good.” His attention drops to where he still grips my zipper. Lips pressing thin, he slowly pulls the metal to the top. The slight graze of his knuckles along the inside of my breast has me mashing my lips together to stifle my gasp.

Releasing it, he abruptly steps back and clears his throat. His command is rough and no-nonsense. “Can’t have you walkin’ around temptin’ everybody.” Wordlessly, he surveys the area behind me before turning around and striding away.

A breeze sweeps by as if to punctuate his exit, tousling my hair while his words echo in my mind. If he thinks I’m tempting everybody, does that include him?

“Stop it,” I hiss under my breath. Exhaling a ragged breath, I shove my hands in my hoodie’s pockets and make my way back inside.

I shouldn’t care what he thinks of me. I shouldn’t react the way I do when he’s near me.

Knowing he may not be completely impervious to me either provides a fraction of solace. The wise thing to do is to use it to my advantage.

I simply need to ensure I don’t get swept up in my own ruse.

Sudden awareness of someone entering my room causes my eyes to snap open in the middle of the night. It takes a split second for me to realize there’s no threat.

This is confirmed a moment later when the person slides beneath the covers and curls up beside me.

Turmoil coils deep in my gut, a mix of affection and resignation, but a small smile plays at my lips all the same.

My voice is thick with sleep. “What’re you doing up this late?”

Alma’s voice is small and subdued. “I had a nightmare.”

When she snuggles closer, I shift to draw my arm around her. “I know all about nightmares.”

“You do?” she whispers.

Unfortunately. “Uh-huh.”

“What do you do when you get ’em?” She hugs me tighter. “’Cause my eyes don’t wanna go back to sleep after mine.”

“Sometimes, I remind myself that I’ve survived a ton of scary things. That I’m tough and nothing can hurt me anymore.”

That I refuse for anything to hurt me ever again.

Alma goes quiet for so long that I wonder if she’s somehow fallen asleep already until her dainty voice drifts to my ears. “Can I stay here with you?”

Oh, sweet girl. Your father’s going to hate me even more. But there’s no way I can turn her away. “Of course.” I hurriedly tack on, “But just for tonight.”

“’Kay.” Her voice has already taken on a languid quality as she snuggles even closer. “’Night, Lola.”

“Good night, Alma.”

A beat of silence lingers before she murmurs, “We’re gonna have a tea party tomorrow, okay?”

A thin veil of amusement flutters over me, because she’s so similar to her father. The only difference is she phrases demands like a question.

“Okay,” I answer softly.

She lets out a hum of approval before mumbling, “Wish my daddy would come, too, but he’s too busy.”

It doesn’t take long for her body to relax against mine as she falls asleep.

Her words suspend in my mind, inciting a deep ache inside my heart. If she knew what kind of man her father was, she’d probably be grateful he’s not including her more in his world.

When her entire body jerks abruptly and she whimpers, I wrap my arm tighter around her and run a soothing hand over her back.

“Shhh. You’re safe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” I continue the gentle sweeping touch over her back until she settles, her breaths even and calmer now.

I press a light kiss to the top of her head and close my eyes, allowing my own body to relax and for sleep to pull me back under.

It isn’t until I’m nearly lost to sleep that I recall that damn camera in my room.