Page 19 of When Lies Unfold

For anyone else, my dagger-like glare would send them fleeing. But not Santiago Hernández. I couldn’t be that lucky. Which is why I fire back, desperate to get him to back off. “And I already told you I?—”

He cuts me off with, “It’s a yes or no answer, Miss Arias. Either you understand or you don’t.” A millisecond pause precedes his next words. “If it’s the latter”—his voice drops an octave, turning even more menacing—“then we end this, right here and now.”

I scowl at him. “I understand you’re big on threats. But what you need to understand is, I hold true to my promises.”

He lowers his head further, his nose a breath away from touching mine. The proximity evokes prickles of awareness along every inch of my skin while his tone is heavy and ominous. “What you need to understand is, I don’t fuck around with promises.”

I hitch my chin up a notch, matching his glare with my own. When the tip of my nose brushes his, an odd shudder rolls through me that I do my best to stifle. “You spend a lot of time talking and threatening me when you should be out there”—I tilt my head toward the door, my tone snarky as hell—“selling drugs and killing people and whatever other horrible things you people do.”

His eyes remain locked in a battle with mine. Silence reigns for an extended moment, causing my pulse to go from steady to galloping. My muscles turn antsy, as though they’re anticipating something I’m unaware of.

Angling his head, he brings his mouth closer to mine, his masculine scent enveloping me. His hot, minty breath dusts over my lips with each muted word. “You think I do horrible things to people?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Mm.” That rumble in his throat holds the barest hint of amusement, and a glint of something far more dangerous edges its way into his gaze. “But you see, Miss Arias, I don’t always do ‘horrible things.’ In fact, certain people like what I do.”

His voice drops an octave, skittering over me, and his fuller bottom lip grazes mine with each syllable. “Sometimes, they even beg me for more.”

As though it’s been electrically charged, the air crackles around us as our eyes hold. My willfulness refuses to let him have the last word. “Good thing I never beg, then.”

His lips tug upward in a subtle, slow-forming smirk, each word acting as a slow, methodical caress of my own. “Never say never, Miss Arias.”

Neither of us backs away or averts our eyes. I refuse to display any sign of weakness, refuse to offer him visible proof that he unsettles me.

His phone pings again, and I’m granted a reprieve when he retreats a step before retrieving his phone from his pocket.

I regard him closely, noticing how his façade falls back into place. It’s now that I realize he’s been showing a slightly softer side to me. Because, as his features return to their cold, calculated, and stoic expression, the contrast is startling.

What just happened was likely an attempt at seduction, thinking he could control me or manipulate me into doing his bidding. To be yet another mindless minion, following his orders without question.

It would be easy to give in and do whatever it takes to appease him. But I don’t have it in me. I have more self-respect these days—thank fuck.

When he raises that frosty gaze to mine, it confirms that Santiago Hernández, the cold-blooded drug cartel leader, is back.

He pockets his phone without looking away. “Gotta go take care of business.” With a palm on the door handle, he quirks a brow in a silent, Gonna move so I can get out the door?

I shove off the door so he can open it. All the while, I ignore the twinge of disappointment that he’s leaving. It’s fucked up, but I get some sick joy out of pushing back against his endless arrogance.

A therapist would have a field day with me.

Straightening my shoulders, I plant my hands on my hips and wait for him to leave. He tugs open the door without another word, but just when I think he’ll exit wordlessly, of course, I’m wrong.

Of-fucking-course.

He pauses outside my door, his palm on the handle. “You sayin’ you never beg is like throwin’ a big ol’ bone in front of a hungry dog.”

He casts me a glance, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a banked heat in the depths. “Lookin’ forward to makin’ you beg.”

Before I can form a reply, he pulls the door closed behind him.

The damn bastard got the last word after all.

9

SANTIAGO

I slide into the passenger seat beside Gordo. He puts the SUV in gear, and the tires make quick work of the gravel driveway.

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