Page 115 of When Lies Unfold

“I can just?—”

His features tense before he tugs on his socks. “I said leave ’em.”

I honestly don’t have it in me to argue with him. Not tonight. Not after everything that’s transpired. I’m wrung out in all the ways—emotionally, physically, and mentally. My body loses some of its rigidity. “Fine. Thank you.”

Gordo knocks and calls through the door. “Boss?”

“Yeah.” Santy laces his boots as he answers. “Comin’.”

He smooths a hand down his shirt that’s now neatly tucked into his slacks. A crease of determination has taken up residence between his brows. He strides past me to collect his weapons, and once he’s holstered both in their usual place, he heads for the door.

With his palm resting on the handle, he doesn’t immediately open it. He casts me a look over his shoulder, his tone gentler when he says, “If you wanna sleep here tonight, you can.” He must sense the shock reverberating through me because he hastily adds, “Doubt I’m gonna be back soon anyway.”

Opening the bedroom door, he pauses when it’s halfway. This time, a trace of concern is threaded in his command. “If you need me, you call me. No matter what.”

With that, he pulls the door closed behind him.

49

SANTIAGO

When Gordo doesn’t immediately give me shit about havin’ Lola in my bedroom while we stride down the hall, I know somethin’s off.

I’m proven right when he mutters, “Hidalgo’s fuckin’ increased his numbers. We just intercepted a hundred and forty girls just over the border.”

My steps falter. The fuck? Rage pollutes my veins. I wish I’d been in the position to kill that bastard years ago.

We stop in front of a closed door and Gordo punches in a code on the keypad beside the handle. When the light on the keypad flashes green, I shove it open with more force than necessary.

After grabbin’ our usual vests along with a few more weapons and extra ammo, we stride out and head for the vehicle parked out front.

I slide into the passenger seat while Gordo gets behind the wheel and starts the ignition. “Everybody else is on the way, so they’re waitin’ on us.”

It’s his way of sayin’ he knew what I was doin’ and gave me as much time as he could back there in my bedroom.

“But it’s not good, boss. Got guys there, tryin’ to sort shit, but…” He shakes his head as he peels out of the driveway, haulin’ ass down the steep paved path. “Some of the women didn’t make it. We got some to talk—the ones who were in rough shape but still hangin’ on. He’d pumped ’em full of shit, so they were crashin’ hard.”

I fist my hands so tightly, the short, blunt tips of my nails dig into my palms. “Goddammit.” It was that bastard’s MO. Pump the girls full of his trademark synthetic drug and sell ’em off like cattle goin’ to slaughter.

That drug of his is bad news, and I flat-out refuse to deal with anybody who has a role in distributin’ it. That shit has a fuckin’ death toll connected to it.

“Fucker’s pushin’ his luck by pullin’ that shit in my territory.” I grit my teeth.

Goddamn Hidalgo and his love for human traffickin’… Over the past few years, he’s grown bolder—and progressively more reckless.

“This shit needs to end once and for all. Where the fuck is Juarez on this?” Potent frustration threatens to suffocate me, and I barely resist punchin’ a goddamn hole in the dash. “How long does it take to get him and his team to help shut this shit down?”

I may sell drugs, but I don’t sell humans. People may think my disgust toward Hidalgo is hypocritical, but I sell substances, not people. No livin’, breathin’ person deserves to be sold into slavery—sexual or otherwise.

“I get it, boss. I do.” Gordo exhales loudly. “But convincin’ people not to do business with him anymore is one thing.”

He casts me a glance before returnin’ his attention to the road. “Goin’ head-to-head with Hidalgo means outright war. And Juarez can only do so much to help us.”

Frustration rages through me. I rip the tie out of my hair, rake my fingers through it, and smooth it back before securin’ it again.

“I know it.” My tone is curt and icy, but Gordo knows it’s not directed at him. “Thing is, I’m too fuckin’ tired of dealin’ with this shit.”

We fall quiet as he speeds down the highway toward Paso Canoas. No one’s on the road this late, thank fuck, which makes our travel smoother. “Dari’s down there, in charge and keepin’ things under wraps till we get there.”

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