When Lies Unfold

Chapter 39

Marcelo hangs back, lettin’everyone else file out first. With his gray hair neatly combed, he stands with his hands in his suit pockets.

Out of everybody I’ve done business with, he’s the only one I had a soft spot for. He’s been loyal to me for years, now.

Though he’s older and wise enough to have gone solo long ago, he always claimed he didn’t want that kind of responsibility.

Hell… Some days, I don’t even want the responsibility that comes from all this.

Of-fuckin’-course, Keyna stops at the door now. Slidin’ her arm free from Octavio’s, she excuses herself from him as he exits, and she turns back toward me.

“Santy.” She coos my name in a way that’s always grated on my nerves. Stoppin’ in front of me, she reaches out to touch my suit jacket, but I catch her wrist before she can.

A frown mars her features as she pouts. “Can’t I show an old friend how much I?—”

“Time to go, Keyna.” I release her wrist and step back, turnin’ my focus to Marcelo, effectively dismissin’ her. “Gotta talk with Marcelo.”

With a huff, she spins around, her heels stabbin’ the tile floor with each jarrin’ step in her retreat. But I don’t give a fuck. She can be pissed all she wants. I never promised her shit.

I lift my chin in silent command for my men to close the doors so Marcelo and I can speak privately.

Once the doors close, Marcelo raises his brows with a smirk. “Seems you’ve got some women troubles.”

“Nah. Keyna’s just more stubborn than most.” Soberin’, I slide my hands in my pockets. “You obviously stuck around to talk about somethin’.”

In a silent gesture, he tips his head toward the floor-to-ceilin’ windows overlookin’ the Pacific coastline. We draw to a stop at the wall of glass. Although it’s too dark to see the ocean, countless stars shine bright.

“So, tell me about this woman tonight. Lola, is it?”

Somethin’ about the way he poses this question has my defenses risin’. “What about her?”

When he gives me an impatient look, I grit my teeth with irritation. Returnin’ his focus to the window, he releases a breath as if I’ve somehow disappointed him. “Santy, Santy, Santy… I worry about you.”

“Nothin’ to worry about.”

“Don’t you think the timing of meeting this woman is…” He trails off as he chooses his words. “It seems a bit questionable.”

In his prime, Marcelo’s interacted with other well-known narcos throughout Central and South America and offers insight from it. Doesn’t mean I’m takin’ him on as my lead fuckin’ advisor on how to run shit, however.

I might like the older man, but I sure as hell don’t like havin’ my judgment questioned. My sharp tone says it all. “How so?”

“You’ve been acquiring more of Hidalgo’s contacts and embarking on new business ventures.” He waves a hand, gesturin’ to the closed doors. “And now you’ve embarrassed and turned your back on your flesh and blood.”

I grind my molars, vyin’ for patience. “Get to the point.”

He slides his hands in his pockets, then lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I find it to be suspicious timing.”

His insinuation infuses my spine with tension while my tone is filled with derision. “You tryin’ to say Hidalgo sent Lola to play me?”

“It wouldn’t be unheard of. Hidalgo’s not exactly the sanest person to deal with.”

A rough sound falls from my lips. “That’s a fuckin’ understatement.”

Hidalgo Carrera is as loco as they make ’em. When I went to Colombia years ago to get a feel for his business dealin’s, rumors were in full swing even then.

Allegedly, he had no problem killin’ off his men for the stupidest shit.

Last I heard—’cause men are bigger gossips than most women I’ve met—he’s been overly paranoid that somebody’s gonna try to steal his wife from him.

Over the last few years, I’ve taken more and more business away from him, and he’s become even more of a petulant little bitch. He’s increased his retaliation efforts against me even more since I’ve gone after his human traffickin’ operations.

Marcelo continues. “It’s not unheard of for a rival to send a beautiful woman to their enemy to get intel.”

Jaw clenched, the muscles start to ache from the tension. “That’s not the case with her.”

One of his brows rises. “And you know this how?”

His challenge frays my patience even further. “’Cause she helped Andro after he tried to kill her. She’s the main reason he’s still alive after cuttin’ himself.”

His expression never wavers. Our gazes hold, neither of us givin’ an inch. Tense lines frame his mouth. “I just…worry, Santy. You’re like the son I never had.”

“Appreciate your concern, but there’s no need for it.” I keep my tone even, but I’m fightin’ against the irritation threatenin’ to break free.

Eyes narrowin’, disappointment infuses his features. “And you don’t think it’s a concern that you chose her over your nephew in front of everyone tonight?”

I shift to face him more fully with my arms folded across my chest. Regardin’ him with an icy look, my tone matches it. “The fuck you tryin’ to imply?”

His sigh this time pisses me off. It makes it seem like he’s dealin’ with some unruly kid instead of a man who built a fuckin’ empire with his bare hands.

He shakes his head slowly. “It’s obvious you’re not open to hearing reason. I’m just afraid you’re placing your trust in the hands of the wrong person.”

Tippin’ his head to the side, he surveys me closely. “And Andro’s bound to”—he grimaces—“hit some bumps as he tries to pave his own way. Surely, you can understand that.”

A colossal knot of tension gathers at the back of my neck. I swear, steam may just start comin’ outta my ears. “Some bumps? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me with that shit?”

Fiery-hot fury pulses through me. “You think I was too hard on the boy who’s continued to fuck up at every turn, draggin’ my name”—I slap my palm against the center of my chest—“through the goddamn mud?”

Marcelo’s mouth parts, but I don’t give him a chance to respond. Tone lethally sharp, my words slice through the otherwise silent room. “You think I was too hard on the boy who tried to kill an innocent woman? And when Andro ended up slicin’ himself open, that same woman saved his motherfuckin’ life!”

His eyes narrow a fraction at that. I let out a humorless laugh before continuin’. “Yeah. And he repays her by attackin’ her”—my next words are pushed from between gritted teeth, ’cause just thinkin’ about it has me overcome with fury—“while she’s sittin’ right fuckin’ beside me at dinner.”

My words hang between us for a moment before I tack on, “That’s the person you’re gonna defend? The one who keeps fuckin’ up at every turn?”

I release a breath, shake out my arms, and flex my fingers. “Look, it’s been a hell of a night, and I’ve said all I’ve gotta say. Appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary. I’ve vetted her. I’ve got this under control.”

A pause lingers before he nods. “Okay, then.” He offers me a hand, and we shake briefly. “Thanks for tonight. Javier never disappoints, and I’m glad we got everything else sorted for this next shipment.”

He hesitates as if he wants to say somethin’ else but decides against it. “I’ll see myself out. Have a good night, Santy.”

“You, too.”

The moment the door closes behind him, I grip the back of my neck, tryin’ to alleviate the knotted muscles. Silence blankets the room as I stare out the windows, my thoughts goin’ in different directions.

Somethin’ about my conversation with Marcelo is naggin’ at me. I can’t pinpoint why it has the hairs on the back of my neck standin’ on end, and that’s fuckin’ unacceptable.

I need to get to the bottom of this, ’cause if anythin’ happens to Lola, I swear to fuckin’ Christ heads will roll.