Page 31 of When Lies Unfold

Her feet shift, but she still hovers in the doorway. She must be thinkin’ the moment she fully steps foot in here, somethin’ bad’s gonna happen to her.

If I was plannin’ that, I wouldn’t bother invitin’ her in here. Not that she needs to know that. But aside from my bedroom, my office is my other sanctuary. No way do I wanna get fuckin’ blood spatter on my shit, ’specially not my books.

I glance down at the one I’ve always got open and marked. Usually, I just flip it open to whatever section I feel like and choose somethin’ good.

Gordo likes to give me shit about it, but I’ve caught him readin’ it, too. Some guys in this line of work think it’s all muscle and intimidation that gets you places. But I know that’s not always the case.

I gotta have a head on my shoulders. Gotta be a critical thinker and simply be smarter than my opponents. At the end of the day, if I can outsmart somebody and avoid puttin’ myself and my men in danger, that’s a bigger victory in my mind.

Acrimony: a rough and bitter manner

A smirk tugs at my mouth, ’cause I’d say that fits me most days.

“Have a seat, Miss Arias.” I nod toward one of the chairs opposite my desk.

Visibly hesitatin’, she casts a glance down the hallway at Gordo, I presume. When she does a double take, her entire body goin’ stiff, my senses go on high alert. She sucks in a harsh breath and her eyes go wide, all the color drainin’ from her face.

If there’s a fuckin’ threat in my own goddamn home, I’m damn sure gonna take care of it.

I act on instinct, not hesitatin’. My beer’s down and my weapon’s in my hand as I launch myself over my desk, gettin’ to the door in time to witness Andro come into view.

With his gun pointed directly at her, the reason for her reaction falls into place.

“Andro,” Gordo growls from behind my nephew. “Put it down.”

My nephew doesn’t give any indication he plans to listen. He’s laser-focused on his target—her. “She’s not to be trusted. I’m tellin’ you, Tio?1, she’s bad news.” He advances on her, arm outstretched, bringin’ his gun barely a foot away from her face.

Before I can respond, she swiftly sidesteps him and grips both hands around his wrist, forcin’ the weapon’s aim toward the floor.

Rapid fire, bullets hit the baseboards and edge of the tile floor, sprayin’ splinters in the air, forcin’ me to take a step back. Gordo’s shouts mingle with my own above the ringin’ in my ears from the gunshots.

With a determined grunt, Lola shoves her entire body against Andro’s, propellin’ him off-balance before he slams into the wall. The force has the gun droppin’ from his grip, and she kicks it away, sendin’ it skiddin’ across the floor toward Gordo.

When Andro pulls out a four-inch blade, dread pools in my gut.

“Andro!” Frustration and anger bleed through in my shout. Goddammit. The last thing I want or need is somebody dyin’ in my fuckin’ house, but I also know this would eliminate my current complication: Lola Arias.

Even if she comes out on top, this is an assbeatin’ that’s long overdue for my nephew. That’s what has me standin’ back and watchin’ shit go down. Waitin’.

The instant he lunges for Lola, she deflects his move by swingin’ her arm up, the base of her palm collidin’ with Andro’s nose. He curses, reachin’ one hand up to touch his now bleedin’ nose. She uses it to her advantage, wrappin’ her hands around the blade.

They wrestle for control of the knife, her grunted words pushed from between gritted teeth.

“Just…let go…before…you…get hurt…you…fucking asshole.”

She’s petite but strong and determined. That’s evident in the desperate way she fights back and rams her elbow into his ribs. She’s undoubtedly feisty as hell.

Andro appears to overpower her with a downward thrust of the knife, but after a flurry of motion, his painful groan sounds in the next moment. Lola launches herself away from him, openin’ up the view.

Fuck.

A dazed Andro stares down at his lower abdomen where a streak of blood stains his shirt, growin’ damper by the second. The knife falls from his limp fingers and bounces off the tile floor.

“Shit.” I shove my gun in its holster as my nephew drops to his knees, his face turnin’ more and more pale.

Lola darts a frantic look my way. In the next instant, she drops down beside my nephew. The speed that Andro’s shirt is becomin’ more saturated has Gordo and me collectively suckin’ in a sharp breath. ’Cause we know knife wounds, and this one’s not good. Not good at all.

Movements frantic, she tears off her bag, tossin’ it aside before pullin’ off her T-shirt to reveal her gray sports bra. When she presses her cotton shirt against Andro’s wound, he lets out a pained grunt. She ignores him and barks out orders.

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