Chapter 31 – Lauren
Chapter
Thirty-One
LAUREN
I ’m on video call with Alejandro, and I am not enjoying it.
Seb has repeatedly argued that I should come clean with my cousin and my parents about what Carlos did to me when I was young. He’s convinced that I’ll never really move on from it while I keep it secret from them, that I have nothing to be ashamed of, that I will feel the power of the past diminish once I share it with them. For a big thug, he can be remarkably nuanced, and I don’t always appreciate it. In fact, I think the exact words I used were “screw you and your hippy-dippy bullshit. It’s not your choice to make.” Or something equally insightful, anyway.
It might have happened organically at some point or another, but circumstances have forced my hand. It should have occurred to me sooner, but now that Diego Torres is in my cousin’s very capable hands, he’s talking. A lot. And the things he’s been saying have made Alejandro very curious indeed.
His dark eyes pin me down via the screen of my laptop, and even from thousands of miles away, I can feel his commanding presence. There are no cute babies in the room, no family banter, no chitchat about his wife or his daughter, Lucia. Nothing but those serious eyes and an expression that doesn’t seem able to choose between disappointed and angry. Hell, he’s probably both.
“I think, mi prima, that you need to fill me in on a few things. Like why Diego Torres keeps apologizing for looking at photos of you when you were a girl. Why he keeps telling me he never touched you. Why he keeps saying it was all because of his father and our late and unlamented Uncle Carlos.”
Staring at my hands for a moment, I pull my resolve together before I meet his eyes. “It was all a long time ago, Alejandro, and both men are dead. What does it matter? It’s ancient history.”
“Ancient or not, it’s your history. Which means it’s my history too. You know I love you like a sister, Lauren.”
These simple words move me more than all of his disapproval, and I melt as I realize his expression isn’t disappointed or angry. It’s just sad. “Tell me what happened. What did the sick bastard do to you?”
I tell him everything, starting with that very first day when I found Uncle Carlos torturing someone at our home, how he threatened to hurt my sister and my parents. How he cut me.
“You told everyone you got that scar cooking,” he says, shaking his head.
“I know. That’s what he told me to say. He was always making me lie, making me cover for him—making me culpable, you know? It’s why I seemed so difficult to the rest of the family. You remember that, don’t you?”
He nods and has the good grace not to argue. “Yeah. I remember that. My mamá and yours, chatting away over coffee, talking about how you were going through an awkward stage.”
“A stage that lasted for years. He tortured me for so long, Alejandro, and I hid it from you all. I look back now, older and wiser, and wonder why I didn’t just tell. If I had, my whole life would have been different. Carlos wouldn’t have been allowed to go on and do the things he did.”
He bangs his hand down on his desk, and I jump in surprise. “No. That is not on you. Carlos was a grown man psychologically abusing a young girl. He was always wrong in the head, you must know that—our fathers did, and it was their job to protect you, not the other way around. What Carlos chose to do, kidnapping my wife, that was his call and his alone. Now, hearing all of this from you, I only wish I could go back and kill him all over again.”
I laugh, swiping tears from my eyes. No idea where they came from, the sneaky bastards. “That’s what Sebastian says too.”
“Ah. The famous Sebastian. My friends from Barcelona were impressed. With both of you. Although I’m not surprised that you took out Diego single-handedly—I’ve seen that temper of yours too many times. But I’m glad that Sebastian was with you afterward and that you’ve found someone who cares for you the way you deserve to be cared for. It’s not easy, coming from our family, to open yourself up to love.”
“No, it’s not. And Sebastian really does care about me. He wanted me to tell you about all of this. He thought it would, I don’t know, cleanse my soul or some such bullshit.”
He raises his eyebrow, not fooled by my bravado. “And has it?”
I consider the question. To some extent, it has.
He must see my uncertainty. “Is there anything else you need to tell me, Lauren? I’d ask Diego, but as of tomorrow he won’t have a tongue.”
I shudder a little at the image, but then I remember his stinking breath in my face as he forced me to bare my breasts to him. “There is something, actually,” I reply quietly. No sense holding back now that I’ve started. I pause, trying to find the right words.
“Am I supposed to know what it is without you telling me, cousin?”
“No, you asshole, just give me a second, will you?”
“Did you just call me an asshole?”
“Yeah, I did. You don’t scare me, Alejandro Montoya—I’ve seen you naked.”
“Not since I was seven. What is it? Do I need to be worried?”
“No, it’s nothing to worry about. But do you remember when that thing happened to me in Florida, and you and Jax came down to… help me out?”
His eyes flash with fury, his lips pressed together in a thin line of contempt. “Of course. Those cabróns who assaulted you. We were happy to help.”
“Well, it wasn’t quite as simple as I made out at the time. I told you they attacked me on my way home and that I was scared they were going to do it again.”
“I remember. Is that not the truth?”
I puff out some air and close my eyes for a second. This is a lot harder than I thought it would be. “It was worse than that, Alejandro. They kidnapped me and held me prisoner for days. I don’t think I need to spell out what they did to me while they had me, but it was as bad as you can imagine. I almost died, and now… Now I can’t have kids because of it. I haven’t told anyone apart from Seb, so please don’t be pissed at me.”
His eyes widen. “Pissed at you? That’s a million miles away from what I’m feeling right now. It breaks my fucking heart to know that you’ve been alone with this for so long. I would go back and kill them all over again if I could. And there is more than one way to be a mama, prima.”
Alejandro and Alana adopted their daughter, Lucia, and Alana needed fertility treatment to get pregnant with the twins. Theirs has not been a simple journey into parenthood. “I also don’t have to be a mama at all, if that’s what I choose, Alejandro. But there’s something else that I didn’t tell you. The men you and Jax dealt with? They needed to die. They’d done it before and they would have done it again.”
“You’ll get no argument from me there. The world is better off without them in it.”
I nod and bite my lip. Here goes. “So, long story, but I managed to escape from their ringleader, a guy called Brad Schmidt.”
He frowns, obviously recognizing the name. “He was your original client, yes? The cabróns we dealt with kept telling us that the person we really needed was Schmidt. We never could find him, though, and in the end we decided they were just covering their asses. I wondered why Torres sent an email that mentioned him.”
“You couldn’t find him because he was already dead. I killed him myself the night I got away. I have no idea if Torres knew that part or not, but… yeah. I shot his dick off, and he bled to death.” I thought it would be more difficult to tell him that, but it comes surprisingly easy. It’s as though saying the words somehow gives the whole situation less power over me. An unburdening of sorts.
My cousin is not a man who is easily shocked by life, but surprise flashes across his face at my words. He leans his chin onto steepled fingers, and I feel his silence so painfully, wondering what it signifies. One of the reasons I didn’t tell him about this is because I thought he would be horrified, possibly even disappointed in me. After claiming for so many years that I wanted nothing to do with the Montoya way of life, I go and kill someone?
“Are you angry with me?” I ask. “Are you disappointed?”
“The only thing that makes me angry is the way you keep jumping to conclusions about how I’m feeling. No, I’m not angry, and why the hell would I be disappointed? If anything, I’m proud of you—you did what you had to do, and that’s all that matters. I am, though, a little upset that you didn’t come to me for help with the cleanup. You are aware that I have experience with that kind of thing, yes? What if you left evidence? What if you were somehow linked to what happened? It could mean the end of your career, or worse, prison.”
I have to smile—only in my family could someone be more disturbed by you potentially leaving evidence than by the fact you murdered a man in the first place. “Don’t worry. I have two words for you—fire and alligators.”
He grins at me and nods. “Okay then. I feel better now. Is there anything else you want to tell me? Any more confessions?”
“That time when you were fourteen and learning how to shave? When someone replaced your shaving foam with mayo? That was me.”
He hums. “I smelled like a deli counter for days afterward. But it’s okay, I forgive you. Look, I’d better go—the twins need a bath before bedtime. But Lauren? Sebastian was right. It’s good that you told me, and I think that when the time is right, you need to tell Uncle Phillipe and Aunt Rachel about everything too.”
“Maybe. I’ll think about it. I’m worried that I’ll make them feel bad, make them think they should have noticed.”
“And maybe you’re right—but they’re your parents. They love you more than life itself. Have a little faith, prima.”
I stare at him through the screen and realize he’s right. It is time to stop letting my past define my future.