Page 168 of When Lies Unfold

“Ready?”

I memorize the deep timbre of his voice as my eyes trace over his face. A finality washes over me, bittersweet, but I’ll be leaving after experiencing something I never thought I would.

Love.

I cover his hand with mine, holding it in place as I turn my head and place a kiss to his palm. “Ready.”

The guards draw our doors open as they verbally usher us from the vehicle. I internally plead for my booted feet to remain firm, for my legs not to wobble beneath me.

They don’t tremble until he emerges from the doorway.

At the mere sight of Hidalgo, every part of my body he wounded flares to life with phantom, searing-hot pain. The memories of how he made me suffer, how he tormented me and enjoyed every moment of it, become illuminated in technicolor in my mind.

He surveys us from where we stand outside the SUV, surrounded by his armed men. When he gets to me, it’s more of a cursory glance, his lip curling in disgust at how I’m dressed and the tattoos along my arm.

Hidalgo was a traditionalist to the core and believed women should wear nothing but demure dresses and shoes without any heel. I’m likely making him vomit in his mouth by being clad in boots, jeans, and a tank top.

He doesn’t recognize me because, before, he made me change everything about myself. I was forced to dye my hair blonde and have a perm with spiral curls. I don’t at all resemble the woman he once terrorized.

“Mr. Hernández. You said you were returning my book.” His voice still manages to conjure the sensation of thousands of fire ants crawling along my skin. “I’m curious as to how it came to be in your possession.” Hidalgo’s focus returns to me, where the book remains in my hands.

“Because I’m the one who’s had it all this time.”

His eyes flare with instant recognition of my voice. Mouth tightening, his gaze anchors to mine while a myriad of emotions flickers across his face. Shock. Confusion. Anger. Hatred. Revulsion.

Hidalgo never liked being on the losing end of anything. He despised ever being perceived as a fool.

And I’ve done just that.

“Rosa.” He utters my name as if those two syllables induce the most rancid taste on his tongue.

Gripping the book in my hands, I infuse confidence in my tone. “I’ve agreed to return this to you…along with myself, in exchange for Alma’s safe release.”

Hidalgo hums. “I certainly wasn’t expecting this.” Eyes alight with dark amusement, his mouth curves into a menacing grin. “But it seems my wife has risen from the dead.”

With a snap of Hidalgo’s fingers, another man emerges from the house, his hand wrapped around Alma’s wrist as he leads her out.

“You’re gonna regret this, you bast—” The instant Alma spots us, her expression swiftly changes to happiness. “Daddy! Lola!”

“Walk slowly.” Hidalgo’s command cuts through the air. “Pace yourselves with each other so you arrive at the opposite side simultaneously.” His attention rests on me, like a thousand-pound weight dragging me down.

Alma spears him with a glare before we start walking toward each other. When we meet halfway, I pause and lower to one knee in front of her. She throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly.

Knowing we’re short on time, I speak in a hurried whisper against her unruly dark curls. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

Alma’s arms tighten around me, her warm breath on my neck when she replies, “Wasn’t your fault.”

I tuck the item in the pocket of her shorts under the guise of holding her tighter. Although I wish this hug could last forever, I’m all too familiar with Hidalgo’s lack of patience and goodwill.

“Enough!” Hidalgo’s voice cracks like a whip. “Come here now!”

Alma releases me. “Be careful, Lola.”

I muster what I’m sure is a weak smile. “Take care of your dad for me, okay?”

Those sweet brown eyes search my face. “Love you, Lola.”

“I love you, too?—”

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