Page 154 of When Lies Unfold

I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure that Lola Arias’s final chapter is powerfully written. That it’s one I’m proud of, filled with bravery, love, and friendship.

If this is the end for me—for Lola Arias—it won’t be filled with regrets.

It’ll be filled with memories of the two Hernándezes I love the most.

“Crawl inside this body—find me where I am most ruined, love me there.”

—Rune Lazuli

71

LOLA

I ease myself slowly from beneath the heavy, comforting weight of Santy’s arm. A thin ribbon of guilt pricks at me because I’m the reason he’s still asleep.

I knew he wouldn’t get any rest with Alma away, so I insisted on making us some hot tea. He wasn’t enthusiastic, but I convinced him with a few kisses.

He didn’t know that I’d mixed some valerian root powder in his tea to help him sleep. While my primary intention was to prevent him from pacing the entire premises in his worried impatience, I had an ulterior motive.

To enable me to sneak away without his knowledge.

Last night, everything we couldn’t say with words, we said with our bodies. Once we showered, we sat propped up in bed, sipping our tea and talking. Our topics varied from Alma to Hidalgo to Juarez to life in general before we finally set our mugs aside to curl up and fall asleep.

Now, as I slide from the bed and tiptoe toward my pile of clothing sitting beside my bag, I try to assuage the guilt over slipping him the valerian root. Once I’m in my panties and sports bra, I brave a glance his way.

My eyes drift over him lovingly as he lies sprawled on his back, the sheet bunched at his waist to display all his inked flesh. Shafts of moonlight peek through the slats of the blinds, bathing him in soft light.

The curves of his firm pectorals rise and fall with steady breaths. But even in his sleep, his features are tainted with worry. Dark shadows have gathered beneath his eyes while his fingers twitch every so often.

I pull on my pants and hesitate before padding quietly through the open door of his dark walk-in closet. Trailing my fingers along the hanging clothes, I choose a button-down at random and remove it from the hanger.

I pull it on and button it before returning to the bedroom to stuff my socks inside my boots and gather them along with my bag.

With one more longing look at Santy, I quietly exit the bedroom. After pulling the door closed behind me, I hold my breath, waiting for either him or someone else to catch me. When seconds pass uneventfully, I exhale slowly.

Padding down the silent hallway, I weave my way along a familiar path until I arrive at his office. Only the small desk light remains lit in greeting, and I slip inside.

I let my fingers trail lovingly along the books’ spines as I draw closer to his desk. Lowering myself into his desk chair, I set my boots and bag on the floor before sinking deeper against the comfortable leather cushions.

My eyes land on the open dictionary at the side of his desk where yesterday’s word is marked and dated.

Woebegone: sad, forlorn, or heartbroken

Grief strikes through me, branding me to the bone, because this particular word has become all too real. Knowing that Alma’s been taken by a murderer and there’s a genuine chance that we may not get her back has my heart breaking to the fullest extent.

Even worse, I’m to blame for it.

Dragging in a fortifying breath, I force myself to focus. I figure Santy’s office must be the only place free of audio and visual surveillance, so this is the best place to carry this out.

I’m certain my cell phone activity has been continuously monitored, but right now, I’m betting that’s been shoved to the back burner with the distraction of the ambush and Alma’s kidnapping now at the forefront.

I prayed I’d never have to delve back into that world again, but these are desperate times. If I plan to try and eliminate Hidalgo, I’ll need all the help I can get.

I pull my cell phone from my bag and punch in the number I’d memorized but hoped I’d never have to use.

With my eyes trained on the open doorway, I keep my voice hushed when he picks up.

“Hola, Rodrigo.”

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