Chapter 15
Efren
“Shhh… it’s just me,” I whisper into Alma’s ear as she fights against me.
I release her, and she lunges forward, catching her breath. She turns to face me, pointing a letter opener at me.
“Y qué vas hacer con eso mija?” I laugh.
The blade’s not even two inches, but the thought of her threatening to slit my throat does turn me on a little. Near death experiences make my dick hard.
“Efren? What the fuck are you doing here?” she whispers.
“I’m here to make sure you don’t get murdered,” I whisper back.
“Why would I get—wait, why are we whispering?” she says, her tone returning to normal.
She follows my pointed look to where El Carnicero sits eating his nut rolls. Looking back, her brows pinch together as she searches my face for an answer to the view in front of her. El Carnicero smiles in that creepy way he does.
“He really likes nut rolls.” I shrug.
“Yeah. I can tell. What are you doing here?” she snarls.
“I saw you looking up the address. And I came to do my own investigation.”
“You saw me? How?” She crosses her arms and stares me down. “Wait. Are you stalking me?”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘protect,’ Kitten. I’m protecting you.”
“I don’t need you to protect me. And stop calling me that.”
“Whether you need me to or not doesn’t stop me from doing it.”
Turning on her heels, she shakes her head and sifts through the papers on a nearby desk. Whether Alma admits it or not, she feels safer with someone in this house with her. Even if that someone is me. Leaning against the wall adjacent to her, I watch, taking every inch of her in.
“Can I help you with something?” she asks, frustrated.
“You know, the last time I saw you, you were a lot nicer to me. I thought maybe we were bonding.”
“I wasn’t stable then.”
“Ah. A stable is for horses.” I move to stand in front of her.
“Wow. Did you come up with that one on your own? You’re hilarious.” She rolls her eyes.
I wink at her just to watch the flush of pink that rises up her cheeks. A loose curl falls, and I can’t resist. My hand moves of its own accord, tucking it delicately behind her ear.
Before I can press my lips against hers again, a large thud comes from the staircase behind us. Moments later, Ricky comes stumbling down the last few steps. Alma jumps back, and we turn to see Ricky groaning in pain.
“Hija de su chingada madre,” he wails from the bottom of the stairs.
“Ricky?” Alma exclaims before moving toward him.
“Alma? Is that you?” he groans out.
“Oh god, please tell me you aren’t friends with this asshole?” She offers him her hand.
Asshole. That has a nice ring to it. I shoot Ricky a glare. If he dares to touch her hand, I’ll sever his. He scoots back until he’s sitting against the wall and lets out a sigh.
“I’m fine.” He denies her help.
“You two know each other?” I ask
“No.”
“Yes.”
Alma’s brows squint at the opposing answers.
“Yes, we know each other. Ricky, what’s going on? Why are you here?”
“He doesn’t answer to you, darling. Ricky, get up. You’re fine.”
Alma’s head jerks toward me, her voice locked and loaded with a rebuttal. “He’s not fine. Ricky was shot recently.”
“And he’s healed since.”
Of course, they know each other. Ricky works with Thalia, and Thalia is Alma’s best friend. Ricky slowly moves to his feet, brows pinched together as his gaze flicks from Alma to me—then back to Alma.
“Right, okay, Bruno.” She chuckles and walks past me to a chest in the corner of the room.
“Bruno?”
I look at Ricky first. Did he hear her call me Bruno? Who is Bruno? Alma begins to hum an unrecognizable tune.
“We don’t talk about Bruno…no…no,” she sings, and I look at Ricky whose lips are rolled into his mouth as he tries not to laugh.
Who the fuck is Bruno?
I look back through the kitchen door and even El Carnicero is smiling. Do they all fucking know Bruno? His smile widens, and it’s freakishly terrifying. I look back at Ricky who’s also looking at El Carnicero, and he looks terrified.
Alma continues to go through Curtis’s personal items, grabbing and organizing them as she sings.
“Who the fuck is Bruno?” I ask Ricky again.
“Disney? Encanto?” Ricky responds with questions.
“I’m a grown man, I don’t watch Disney.”
“She’s basically calling you a shadow daddy,” Ricky replies.
“A shadow—” I ask, but Alma interrupts in protest.
“Bruno is not a shadow daddy!”
“Mmmm, technically, he hides in the shadows, so he’s still a shadow daddy,” Ricky argues.
“Why is he here?” Alma asks, her loyalty to Ricky surrendered.
“He works with me, and I’m protecting you. Now it’s your turn to answer me. What are you doing here in Curtis Anderson’s house, Almita?”
“He was my friend.” She smiles and turns back around.
“He was a customer, you mean.”
“Maybe more.” She smirks.
This little brat. I lunge to her side of the room and slam the doors of the large wooden cabinet shut. She laughs in my face, then tries to push into me despite being four foot nothing.
“You don’t fucking scare me, Efren. You never have!”
“What the hell are you looking for?” I ask again.
Her eyes narrow on me, and her jaw locks before she finally lets her walls down. She breathes out a long exhale through her nose.
“You wanna know why I’m here? Because someone lied to me. And if I don’t find out what really happened, I’m gonna lose my mind.”
“Who lied to you?”
“My m-Missy. Missy lied to me.”
“Your mom?”
“Wait, do you guys know each other?” Ricky asks from behind us, and we ignore him, our eyes locked on one another’s.
“You’re doing a terrible job of stalking me if you haven’t figured out that my mother lied about my entire existence.”
“This is like that episode—” Ricky begins.
“Shut up, Ricky!” Alma and I say at the same time.
He looks away, and behind us, El Carnicero grunts but doesn’t say anything. I’ve never heard homeboy talk, but I’m pretty sure that means shut up in Lurch.
“What do you mean she lied to you?” I press her again.
Of course, I knew something was off about Missy, but I don’t know the whole story. Alma stalls before she answers, her nose twitching slightly.
“About my birth. I’m not her biological daughter. I’m here because Curtis knew Missy. He recognized me from the strip club and—”
“Shut the fuck up. Alma, you work at a strip club?” Ricky interrupts.
Seriously? I glare at Ricky, my last warning for him to read the fucking room.
“Great, now everyone’s gonna know I’m a stripper. Thanks, so glad you decided to come back in and ruin my life.”
“Ricky’s not gonna say anything if he likes chewing with teeth,” I reply. Ricky gulps. “Tell us what you’re looking for exactly, and we can help.”
“For right now, I just need to grab as many of the photo albums and documents he has and go through them. See if he has anything about a baby or Melissa Gutierrez.”
“We can help you,” I offer.
She nods and agrees. It’s a white flag for now. While Alma’s occupied, I move to Ricky who’s sitting at the bottom of the stairs and nod up to the rooms before lowering my voice.
“If you find something, I want it first. Do you understand?”