Page 169 of When Lies Unfold

“Now, Rosa!” Hidalgo’s shout echoes in my ears.

Slowly, obstinately, I rise. Alma squeezes my hand before rushing to Santy. My eyes follow her as I memorize the sight of their reunion.

Jaw like granite, Santy scoops up his daughter in his arms when she launches herself the last few feet.

Now that I know him, I recognize his relief at having her back in his arms. The brief flicker in his gaze, the millisecond his mouth relaxes from that tense, flat line.

But his eyes spear Hidalgo as he hugs Alma, filled with violently lethal promises.

“Rosa!” Hidalgo hates repeating himself, and I have no doubt that he’ll make me pay for this.

Reluctantly, I turn my back on the only man I’ve ever loved. On the little girl who stole my heart.

I put one foot in front of the other, returning to the infamous narco no one’s ever escaped from.

Except for me.

The closer I get, the more vibrant the evil glint in his eyes grows. It tells me he’s already anticipating the various ways he’ll punish me.

The instant I’m within arm’s reach, he cinches my wrist and roughly yanks me toward him. In my boots, I’m a fraction taller than him, and he despises this.

Spearing me with a scathing look, he addresses Santy. “Thank you for this lovely surprise.” Saccharine sweet condescension fills his tone. “I appreciate you returning my belongings and relinquishing the Ecuador territory.”

With a flick of Hidalgo’s other wrist, two armed guards flank me. “Search her thoroughly. Then take her to my office.”

Reluctance blankets his movement when he releases my wrist. I refuse to massage where I’m certain a bruise is developing and show him weakness. Holding my head high, I meet his gaze steadfast—which he hates.

I’ll pay for that later.

The guard’s hands are intrusive as he runs his hands over my body, looking for anything I may have concealed. The other nearly beheads me by yanking my bag free of me, and my scathing, muttered words spill out. “If you would’ve just asked, I would’ve taken it off.”

I’m rewarded for this with a yank of my ponytail that brings tears to my eyes, the roots of my hair erupting in fiery pain.

“No weapons.” One guard announces this as he hands my bag to Hidalgo, who appears disappointed.

He always loved finding reasons to punish me.

Hidalgo sifts through the contents disinterestedly before flinging my bag at me. I catch it against my chest before one of the guards roughly nudges me from behind with the end of his rifle.

“Walk.” His second “urging” nudge toward the hall leading to Hidalgo’s office sends me stumbling. I manage to stay upright and make it to his office.

Hidalgo’s big on whatever makes him feel powerful and in charge, so I’m made to stand in the center of his expensive Persian rug.

My ears perk at the sound of his footsteps approaching and the office door closing. I’m braced for it before he draws to a stop in front of me.

The blow steals my breath, but I trap the cry in my throat. My head snaps to the side from his backhand, my cheek exploding with pain as wetness trails down past my lip. My eyes lock on the bastard’s hand which just delivered that blow.

So, Hidalgo’s taken to wearing another fancy ring these days. What a bonus.

I stare him in the eyes as I spit at his feet, the mixture of saliva and blood landing on his fancy shoes. His expression grows incensed, and he raises his hand to land another hit, but I stop him dead in his tracks.

“You might want to look inside that book first and see what’s missing.” My tone is ominous, and even though it hurts to smile, I force one. “And then you’ll want to know exactly who has those particular pages.”

78

SANTIAGO

TEN HOURS LATER

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