Page 144 of When Lies Unfold

His forehead creases. “You expect me to believe that Carrera’s wife didn’t die and that you know exactly where she is?”

I nod. “Yes.”

Sarcasm envelops Juarez’s response, his expression dubious. “And just where might I find this allegedly dead wife?”

“In front of you.”

65

SANTIAGO

Shock rolls through me. “You’re Hidalgo’s fuckin’ wife?”

She flinches at the bite in my tone. “I was.”

Lola’s abusive ex is fuckin’ Hidalgo. That motherfucker’s the one who carved up her skin. Who permanently scarred her face and body.

I grip the back of my neck, the muscles formin’ into knots of granite. Jesus. What a mind fuck.

Juarez squints at her, suspicion oozin’ from his pores. “That’s easy to claim when there aren’t any photos we can reference.”

She sucks in a deep breath before turnin’ and liftin’ her hair off the back of her neck just below her nape. “Look closely at my tattoos.” It takes a moment to focus on the scarlet macaws and green vines before I notice it.

“Sonofabitch,” falls outta me as I stare at it in shock.

She’s been branded with Hidalgo’s nickname he gave himself: Jefe?1. Everybody in my line of work knows the arrogant asshole demanded his inner circle refer to him as that.

And that motherfucker carved it into Lola’s neck.

Lola releases her hair and turns to face us. When my gaze veers to Juarez, it’s clear he’s still not one hundred percent convinced. His next remark confirms this.

“Just because you have that carved into your skin doesn’t prove anything.”

Foldin’ her arms across her chest, she levels him with a hard stare. “I know about the failed assassination attempt.”

I frown, my eyes volleyin’ between them. “On who?”

But Juarez doesn’t answer me. Instead, he glares at her, his tone sharp. “How the hell do you know about that?”

“Hidalgo had your photos posted on the board in his office. After you were promoted, I overheard him talking to Adolfo about their plan to eliminate you.”

Juarez’s gaze grows wary. “No one knows about that outside the agency.”

Fury burns a fiery hot path through me, and I rake both hands through my hair, rippin’ out the band. “You’re pissin’ me off with all this shit I should’ve been made aware of, Juarez.”

“And”—Lola adds—“I have his black book.”

Expression incredulous, Juarez’s jaw goes slack. “And you’ve been sitting on this for over five years?” His eyes light up with interest. “Where is it?”

“Somewhere safe.”

Pride pummels into me at her confident answer. On its heels comes a wave of suspicion, fueled by hurt. Tone demandin’, my words are razor sharp. “What was your plan? To fuck me and see what you could get out of it?”

“No!” Those brown eyes of hers flare with hurt before anger quickly takes its place. Her voice rises with each word, her cheeks flushed. “You know I wanted nothing to do with you! You’re the one who forced your way into my life!”

“Easy,” Juarez coaxes. “I think it’s best if we take this discussion inside, where we can sit down.”

Neither Lola nor I pay him any attention. Hurt and suspicion battle it out as our eyes remain locked. Even though, deep down, I know she didn’t enter my world under the guise of anythin’ shady, I’m fuckin’ hurt.

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