Page 41 of When Lies Unfold

“—but we both know she saw Andro shoot Rafa. She’s got Nando sniffin’ around her. And she disappears to go walkin’ through the fuckin’ jungle at night?” He tosses me a glance, his expression filled with disbelief. “We know plenty of grown men who wouldn’t set foot in the jungle once the sun sets.”

He’s not wrong—on any of it. Especially the latter. Growin’ up in these parts, there’s a certain sense of respect for nature. We know there’re great risks if we go stompin’ through the nighttime jungle.

Weariness takes hold, and I grind my hands against my eyes. “Jesus Christ, Gordo. See why I don’t want a goddamn wife?” An exasperated breath falls outta me, and I drop my hands from my eyes. “I get enough shit from you alone.”

All he does is grunt, and I know he’s waitin’ for me to address what he just said.

I shift in my seat, my voice muted. “I can’t put my finger on it, but somethin’s tellin’ me I need her alive.” A pause hangs between us. “And after today, I sure as shit could use her.”

Gordo’s voice is low, cautious. “She really got Alma to talk?”

A simultaneous lance of pain and amazement courses through me. “Yeah. Can’t wrap my mind around it either.”

My girl chose to speak today—and she chose to talk to this particular fuckin’ woman. I watched the footage of their interaction in Alma’s room, and it was a good thing I was sittin’ down for it.

My girl hasn’t said one goddamn word in years, but one look at Lola-fuckin’-Arias, and words just start pourin’ out of her.

What is it about this woman? What is it about her that’s not only intrigued the fuck out of me but managed to draw my daughter from her self-imposed silence?

I don’t know what the hell it is, but I’m prepared to keep her underfoot until I figure out all the damn mysteries wrapped around that woman.

Every last one of them.

18

LOLA

“So, this is my new prison,” I mutter under my breath as I set my boots down at the foot of the bed. “Super.”

The room isn’t bad. In fact, it’s gorgeous, with teak floors and far larger than my entire casita.

The adjoining bathroom is a dream. With an enormous shower on one side, it also has an oversized bathtub overlooking the dense jungle. I begrudge how much I yearn to try it out.

I shouldn’t want to indulge in anything this murderer provides me. Not one iota.

Spinning around, I march back into the bedroom, where Luis waits.

“Your belongin’s are on their way here.” He pauses. “And boss said to get you an ice pack.”

I stop short. “A what?”

“An ice pack.” At my frown, he speaks slowly, like he thinks I’m an idiot. “Boss said you hurt yourself in his office.”

I blink in confusion. He must be referring to my hip, but why the hell would Santiago care? Before I can ponder this more, my stomach grumbles and my hands fly to cover it.

Luis’s focus drops to my bare midsection, a slight crease forming between his brows. “I’ll have the cook send you somethin’ to eat.”

“Actually,” I hedge, “can you show me where the kitchen is? I have some…food sensitivities, so it’s easier for me to pinpoint what I can actually have.”

He visibly hesitates, squinting at me as if attempting to scan my brain for any suspicious intent. After a moment, his mouth flattens and he jerks his head toward the door, silently indicating for me to follow.

He leads me on a maze-like journey to a kitchen that’s like something out of a magazine. Luis glances at his watch. “Cook’s on break right now.”

I venture toward the enormous refrigerator. “That’s not a problem. I can whip something up really quick.”

When I pull open one heavy door, I’m faced with an abundance of options. My mouth drops open when my eyes land on jars of ghee and tallow as well as packaged meat and chicken from the nearby free-range, grass-fed farm. As I scan over the other shelves’ contents, my excitement grows by the second.

I start filling my arms with the necessary ingredients before casting a glance over my shoulder. The same imposing man—Luis—waits with his arms crossed impatiently.

---