Page 147 of When Lies Unfold

Doing so means reconciling that if I choose to kill Hidalgo, it’ll likely end with my own death. I desperately want—need—to close that chapter of my life and revoke its power to haunt me any longer, but it’s not just about me anymore. It’s also about taking revenge on Alma’s behalf.

Tossing a half-hearted, “I’ll see you in the morning,” over my shoulder, I make it two steps before he ensnares my elbow. Santy hauls me back against him with such force that I stumble into his chest with a startled gasp.

His eyes hold me captive as he stares down at me, expression inscrutable. “Where you think you’re goin’?”

“To my room.” To hide, because I know you’ll never look at me the same way as before.

His probing gaze gives me the impression he’s privy to my thoughts. When he shakes his head and says, “No,” confusion riddles me. Especially when he adds, “You’re comin’ with me.”

Wariness coats my voice when I ask, “Why?”

“’Cause you and I’ve still got shit to sort out.” His voice grows thick with emotion, causing my heart to twist painfully. “And with Alma gone, you’re the closest thing I’ve got to her right now.”

He doesn’t grant me a moment to process his words; he leads me down the hall to his bedroom.

I don’t bother protesting. Even if he’s planning to yell and cuss at me for what I’ve kept hidden, it still means I’ll spend a few extra moments with him before it’s all over. That’s what matters most to me.

Fucking fate. She knew I was hiding from every facet of the narco life and decided to throw me right back into the fiery depths. But I can’t muster regret for how things turned out. Otherwise, I would’ve never met Santy.

I would’ve never been granted the privilege of knowing and loving Alma. Of experiencing a hint of what it’s like to have the love and adoration of a child—one who wants you to be their mother more than anything.

I never would’ve experienced what it’s like to have a man who protects me at all costs. He may not express his affection verbally, but he shows it in his own trademark manner.

He’s proven that he’s not like Hidalgo. Though he is a narco, a criminal, and a murderer, he doesn’t have a vapid space where his heart should be.

Even if he doesn’t realize it, Santy has one of the biggest hearts I’ve known. Alma alone is proof of that.

Once we’re ensconced in the quiet confines of his bedroom, he leaves me standing with my back against the locked bedroom door while he casts off his boots and socks. Wordlessly, he removes his holstered weapons and carefully sets them aside.

As he begins unfastening his button-down, I shift from one foot to the other, wondering what he wants from me.

His focus remains on unfastening the buttons at his wrists while his tone is conversational but firm. “Got some questions I need you to answer for me.”

My answer is muted with caution. “Okay.”

He shrugs off his shirt and tosses it in the nearby hamper. My eyes greedily memorize his ink-covered upper body, knowing this is the last time I’ll see it.

His hands move to unfasten his belt. “Hidalgo beat on you and carved on you, yeah?”

I swallow past a growing lump in my throat. “Yes.”

He slides the leather belt free of each loop. “And you were forced to fuck an agent to get free of your husband?”

I lower my gaze to where he holds the band of leather. “Yes.”

“Lola.” There’s a gentle quality to his voice. “Look at me.”

Bracing myself for whatever comes next, I muster the bravery to lift my gaze to his.

“You used that agent up till the moment you killed ’im, ’cause you knew he wasn’t gonna stop takin’ advantage of you or let you make a clean getaway. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

He tosses his belt on the bed. Long, tapered fingers branded with black designs move to his pants, pausing at the button. “Did you like it?”

My breath hitches in my throat, and I barely eke out, “Hellno.”

“So, when are you gonna let go of that shame?”

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