When Lies Unfold

Chapter 77

Thick,oppressive silence lingers during the brief private flight and continues after we land. The entire ride to Hidalgo’s is bathed in tension. Everyone appears lost in their unsettled thoughts.

With the little butterfly chain clenched in my right fist, I stare out the window at the passing scenery.

“Remember, Mrs. Carrera—” Agent Juarez starts.

“Lola,” I correct him once again.

His mouth tightens, but he continues as if I haven’t spoken. “My team will move in once Agent Garcia gives the signal.” He doesn’t bother to veil his disgust for me. “Then you’ll be taken into custody.”

I don’t offer him a verbal response. It’s not worth the time or effort, especially since no one will take me into custody. Not to mention, if Hidalgo gets his way, I won’t be going anywhere except a morgue.

Still turned in the front passenger seat, Juarez gently pages through Hidalgo’s book like it’s the precious Dead Sea Scrolls. He’s been meticulously poring over the contents, verifying that his copies are identical to the original contents of the book.

“It”s all there,” I volunteer calmly.

Juarez’s brows crease, and he repeats his question for the tenth time. “Where did you say the missing pages were, Mrs. Carr?—”

“Lola.” Expelling a weary sigh, I recite my answer yet again. “And the book was like that from the start.”

Santy reaches for my free hand, threading his fingers through mine. My attention drops to where his black-inked fingers contrast with the blue butterflies decorating my hand. His thumb grazes over part of one wing disguising a section of my rigid scars.

Only someone who’s experienced great darkness and sustained deep wounds that never truly healed can find beauty in what others consider ugliness.

Only a person with a dark, bloodstained soul can recognize another. They can easily identify the sacrifices made and understand the reasons behind them.

Running from my past only pushed me closer to it in the end. I left far too much unfinished business behind to be free to move on without entanglements.

But what I’ve learned most is, even amidst all the darkness and horrific circumstances I endured, something extraordinary countered it.

For me, my something extraordinary is Alma and Santy.

Gordo pulls to a stop at a crossroad where another black SUV with blacked-out windows sits. Juarez turns in his passenger seat and hands me Hidalgo’s book.

“Once Agent Garcia gives the signal, we’ll move in. Our crew’s waiting nearby.” With a pointed look, the agent adds, “Don’t do anything stupid, Mrs. Carr?—”

“Lola,” I interject yet again. “It’s Lola.”

His glare threatens my tenuous hold on any semblance of calmness. “Like I said, don’t do anything stupid.” His threat stains the air. “We wouldn’t want to add more charges to your sentencing.”

Juarez throws open the door and slams it closed. As he stalks over to the other vehicle, Gordo makes a U-turn and heads toward Hidalgo’s house.

Before I can fully brace myself, we arrive at the massive gates I swore I’d never return to. Santy grips my hand tighter, but remains quiet. That flickering muscle in his jaw speaks for itself.

Armed guards swarm the vehicle while the lead guard barks out orders. “Windows down for identity confirmation! Hands must be visible and empty!”

Gordo rolls down the windows and we lift our hands as they scan the vehicle for any explosive devices and use metal detectors to ensure we don’t have any weapons. Once they confirm there’s no threat, we’re cleared to pass through the gate.

As Gordo heads up the drive to my former prison, I strive to steady my breathing. Once he pulls to a stop in front of the entrance, Hidalgo’s massive front door draws open.

A member of his staff emerges, dressed in the typical uniform he’s always insisted they wear. More armed guards approach our vehicle, their stance alert as Gordo exits first, leaving Santy and me alone for a brief moment.

He reaches out to cradle my cheek in his large palm. The gesture warms me amidst the ice filling my veins, knowing what lies ahead.

“Ready?”

I memorize the deep timbre of his voice as my eyes trace over his face. A finality washes over me, bittersweet, but I’ll be leaving after experiencing something I never thought I would.

Love.

I cover his hand with mine, holding it in place as I turn my head and place a kiss to his palm. “Ready.”

The guards draw our doors open as they verbally usher us from the vehicle. I internally plead for my booted feet to remain firm, for my legs not to wobble beneath me.

They don’t tremble until he emerges from the doorway.

At the mere sight of Hidalgo, every part of my body he wounded flares to life with phantom, searing-hot pain. The memories of how he made me suffer, how he tormented me and enjoyed every moment of it, become illuminated in technicolor in my mind.

He surveys us from where we stand outside the SUV, surrounded by his armed men. When he gets to me, it’s more of a cursory glance, his lip curling in disgust at how I’m dressed and the tattoos along my arm.

Hidalgo was a traditionalist to the core and believed women should wear nothing but demure dresses and shoes without any heel. I’m likely making him vomit in his mouth by being clad in boots, jeans, and a tank top.

He doesn’t recognize me because, before, he made me change everything about myself. I was forced to dye my hair blonde and have a perm with spiral curls. I don’t at all resemble the woman he once terrorized.

“Mr. Hernández. You said you were returning my book.” His voice still manages to conjure the sensation of thousands of fire ants crawling along my skin. “I’m curious as to how it came to be in your possession.” Hidalgo’s focus returns to me, where the book remains in my hands.

“Because I’m the one who’s had it all this time.”

His eyes flare with instant recognition of my voice. Mouth tightening, his gaze anchors to mine while a myriad of emotions flickers across his face. Shock. Confusion. Anger. Hatred. Revulsion.

Hidalgo never liked being on the losing end of anything. He despised ever being perceived as a fool.

And I’ve done just that.

“Rosa.” He utters my name as if those two syllables induce the most rancid taste on his tongue.

Gripping the book in my hands, I infuse confidence in my tone. “I’ve agreed to return this to you…along with myself, in exchange for Alma’s safe release.”

Hidalgo hums. “I certainly wasn’t expecting this.” Eyes alight with dark amusement, his mouth curves into a menacing grin. “But it seems my wife has risen from the dead.”

With a snap of Hidalgo’s fingers, another man emerges from the house, his hand wrapped around Alma’s wrist as he leads her out.

“You’re gonna regret this, you bast—” The instant Alma spots us, her expression swiftly changes to happiness. “Daddy! Lola!”

“Walk slowly.” Hidalgo’s command cuts through the air. “Pace yourselves with each other so you arrive at the opposite side simultaneously.” His attention rests on me, like a thousand-pound weight dragging me down.

Alma spears him with a glare before we start walking toward each other. When we meet halfway, I pause and lower to one knee in front of her. She throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly.

Knowing we’re short on time, I speak in a hurried whisper against her unruly dark curls. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

Alma’s arms tighten around me, her warm breath on my neck when she replies, “Wasn’t your fault.”

I tuck the item in the pocket of her shorts under the guise of holding her tighter. Although I wish this hug could last forever, I’m all too familiar with Hidalgo’s lack of patience and goodwill.

“Enough!” Hidalgo’s voice cracks like a whip. “Come here now!”

Alma releases me. “Be careful, Lola.”

I muster what I’m sure is a weak smile. “Take care of your dad for me, okay?”

Those sweet brown eyes search my face. “Love you, Lola.”

“I love you, too?—”

“Now, Rosa!” Hidalgo’s shout echoes in my ears.

Slowly, obstinately, I rise. Alma squeezes my hand before rushing to Santy. My eyes follow her as I memorize the sight of their reunion.

Jaw like granite, Santy scoops up his daughter in his arms when she launches herself the last few feet.

Now that I know him, I recognize his relief at having her back in his arms. The brief flicker in his gaze, the millisecond his mouth relaxes from that tense, flat line.

But his eyes spear Hidalgo as he hugs Alma, filled with violently lethal promises.

“Rosa!” Hidalgo hates repeating himself, and I have no doubt that he’ll make me pay for this.

Reluctantly, I turn my back on the only man I’ve ever loved. On the little girl who stole my heart.

I put one foot in front of the other, returning to the infamous narco no one’s ever escaped from.

Except for me.

The closer I get, the more vibrant the evil glint in his eyes grows. It tells me he’s already anticipating the various ways he’ll punish me.

The instant I’m within arm’s reach, he cinches my wrist and roughly yanks me toward him. In my boots, I’m a fraction taller than him, and he despises this.

Spearing me with a scathing look, he addresses Santy. “Thank you for this lovely surprise.” Saccharine sweet condescension fills his tone. “I appreciate you returning my belongings and relinquishing the Ecuador territory.”

With a flick of Hidalgo’s other wrist, two armed guards flank me. “Search her thoroughly. Then take her to my office.”

Reluctance blankets his movement when he releases my wrist. I refuse to massage where I’m certain a bruise is developing and show him weakness. Holding my head high, I meet his gaze steadfast—which he hates.

I’ll pay for that later.

The guard’s hands are intrusive as he runs his hands over my body, looking for anything I may have concealed. The other nearly beheads me by yanking my bag free of me, and my scathing, muttered words spill out. “If you would’ve just asked, I would’ve taken it off.”

I’m rewarded for this with a yank of my ponytail that brings tears to my eyes, the roots of my hair erupting in fiery pain.

“No weapons.” One guard announces this as he hands my bag to Hidalgo, who appears disappointed.

He always loved finding reasons to punish me.

Hidalgo sifts through the contents disinterestedly before flinging my bag at me. I catch it against my chest before one of the guards roughly nudges me from behind with the end of his rifle.

“Walk.” His second “urging” nudge toward the hall leading to Hidalgo’s office sends me stumbling. I manage to stay upright and make it to his office.

Hidalgo’s big on whatever makes him feel powerful and in charge, so I’m made to stand in the center of his expensive Persian rug.

My ears perk at the sound of his footsteps approaching and the office door closing. I’m braced for it before he draws to a stop in front of me.

The blow steals my breath, but I trap the cry in my throat. My head snaps to the side from his backhand, my cheek exploding with pain as wetness trails down past my lip. My eyes lock on the bastard’s hand which just delivered that blow.

So, Hidalgo’s taken to wearing another fancy ring these days. What a bonus.

I stare him in the eyes as I spit at his feet, the mixture of saliva and blood landing on his fancy shoes. His expression grows incensed, and he raises his hand to land another hit, but I stop him dead in his tracks.

“You might want to look inside that book first and see what’s missing.” My tone is ominous, and even though it hurts to smile, I force one. “And then you’ll want to know exactly who has those particular pages.”