Page 184 of When Lies Unfold

“Get the fuck outta here, Nando.”

He ignores me and picks up the frame of Lola and me where she’s peerin’ up at me with a soft expression. I wonder if that’s when she started fallin’ in love with me.

“Never thought I’d see the day the notorious Santiago Hernández was fucked up over a woman.”

He replaces the frame before facin’ me and slides his hands in his pockets. His followin’ words catch me off guard. “I never had a chance with her. But, at one point, I thought I was the better man for her.”

A rough sound rumbles deep in my chest, my tone fierce. “Nobody on this goddamn earth is good enough for her.”

Expression somber, Nando studies me for a beat. “Funny enough, that right there sets me at ease.” At my questionin’ look, he shakes his head, his voice lowered. “For your sake, I hope like hell she comes back.”

Quietly, he turns and heads for the door. When he approaches the threshold, though, he pauses, then casts me a glance over his shoulder. That glint in his eyes makes me uneasy.

“I think I like the heartbroken Hernández better. He’s nicer and more approachable.”

“Fuck off, Nando.” I force the words from between gritted teeth.

He steps from my office only to turn back around, his expression borderin’ on somber. He hovers in the doorway, his voice muted. “Didn’t realize all you’d been doing for those women. Carrera was a grade-A motherfucker whose trafficking operations slipped through our fingers time and again. So”—he visibly hesitates—“thanks for that.”

I survey him critically, gaugin’ him for sincerity, but his gratitude seems legitimate. “That’s always been somethin’ I’ll never fuckin’ partake in.”

His mouth presses thin, and he gives a slow nod. “You might not be as bad as I thought, Hernández.”

A harsh laugh breaks free. “Can’t go soft on me, Nando. Wouldn’t be as much fun without you givin’ me shit.”

He leans a shoulder against the doorjamb, his features turnin’ thoughtful. “I might be able to overlook the other stuff if you let me in on future trafficking info.”

I raise a brow. “You proposin’ a partnership?”

He shrugs. “Let’s just say I’ve been reassessing some shit in my life.” A hard glint enters his gaze. “I’m not saying I approve of everything you do, but you might not be as bad as I thought.”

It’s not every day I’m stunned speechless, but he’s gone and done it. The asshole has the audacity to wink at me before he disappears from sight.

Of course, I’m not granted a reprieve, ’cause a second later, Gordo haunts my damn doorway. He makes a show of scannin’ the entirety of my office. “This month’s family reunion’s over, I take it?”

I shoot up from my chair, round the desk, and stomp toward him. Grabbin’ hold of the heavy door, I slam it closed in his face.

Gordo’s laughter travels beneath the door, tauntin’ me as I stride back to my desk. I stop halfway, though, and grab that particular framed photo of Lola and me and place it on my desk.

Then I get back to work.

“But we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever.”

—Haruki Murakami

86

SANTIAGO

ONE YEAR AFTER LOLA’S DISAPPEARANCE

“That’s it. Time for you to get some sleep.”

At my stern look, Alma heaves out a disappointed sigh. “O-kay.”

If I let her, she’d demand that I tell her five hundred stories each night. She pulls the sheet up beneath her arms and toys with her butterfly bracelet.

She never takes it off, and it’s no secret why. Lola Arias left her mark on us and she’s sure as hell not a woman who’s easily forgotten.

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