Page 137 of When Lies Unfold

Goddammit. I know whose name he’s gonna say before he gets the words out.

“We received intel that Hidalgo’s planning to push more women over the Panama-Costa Rica border.”

A dull throb comes to life behind my eyes. “That bastard just won’t give up.”

“Yeah, well, there’s more.”

My muscles turn to concrete before he adds, “This time, he’s slated to be shipping more than five hundred.”

“Five hundred?” I grind out angrily. “The fuck is he doin’ traffickin’ that many girls at once?”

“I’ve got a team in place, ready to intercept again, but we need you there. And we need all the manpower you’ve got.”

I glance at my watch. “What’s his ETA?”

“In about four hours.”

Fuck. I grip the back of my neck, the muscles knotted already, and glance over at my girls. Lola and Alma are pickin’ some wildflowers and twistin’ the stems to connect ’em to make a flower necklace.

The pure look of joy on Alma’s face makes me wish I could send somebody else in my place and stay here with them.

I force myself to look away and refocus on work. Regret still feels like it’s oozin’ from my pores when I finally push out the words. “All right. I’ll get my men together, and we’ll meet you.”

59

LOLA

Never underestimate the energy supply of a small child. That’s my lesson for today.

This girl has quite literally run me ragged. We’ve played countless games of tag and had a cartwheel contest. Even when she had a mishap with an acrobatic attempt and scraped her knee on some gravel, it didn’t slow her down much.

She let me doctor her knee—I learned my lesson to always carry my bag with my first-aid supplies whenever I’m with Alma—and then quickly resumed playing.

“See you later, Lola!” Alma waves before flying up the steps to the house ahead of her tutor.

With a tired but happy sigh, I slide my socks and boots back on as she disappears inside the house. Resting my hands on my hips, I close my eyes and let the gentle breeze rustle past me.

I’ve felt unsettled all morning and wish today would’ve been a workday for me, because at least then I’d be able to lose myself in the task of cleaning.

I turn to face the clearly defined border where the trimmed, lush landscape of Santy’s property intersects the jungle. The darkened canopy of trees and thick greenery feel as though they beckon me.

My mind is a mess of convoluted thoughts, compelling me to try and get them straight the only way I know how. It’s why I call out to Miguel, “I’m going for a quick walk,” before venturing farther into the dense wildness.

I adjust my bag’s strap across my chest as my booted feet lightly crunch atop the fallen leaves along the jungle floor. I let myself get distracted by the jungle as I meander past the enormously tall trees, the fresh, clean scent of the air filling my nostrils.

Santiago Hernández isn’t the man I’d thought he was. Both he and Alma have firmly embroidered themselves on my heart.

While I think he may feel something for me, I’m not sure it’s love. A silly, naïve part of me wants to believe it is, but I can’t rely on that. I need solid proof.

If he doesn’t, then I don’t dare to tell him the truth.

If he does, I have to find it in me to finally confess…and be prepared for the fallout. For his distrust to surpass anything he initially felt.

Either way, it’s not an easy, simplified outcome. If he loves me, will it be a genuine love? One where he wouldn’t use me and what I know to get ahead?

My feet carry me deeper into the jungle, and while it serves to calm me with its unique brand of tranquility, my heart and head can’t find common ground.

I continue along the familiar path to my casita, eager to lay eyes on it in hopes that it grounds me somehow. Once I approach the steep incline behind my casita, I place my booted feet in the notches of the terrain and hoist myself up.

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