Page 185 of When Lies Unfold

“I miss her, Daddy.” Those big, brown eyes peer up at me. Her mouth tips up in a smile. “But I think she’ll come back soon.”

My chest constricts ’cause I hate the doubt that keeps rearin’ its ugly head.

I’m not sure Lola’s comin’ back. My woman defied death once, but not everybody can do that twice.

But she did succeed in killin’ that motherfucker Hidalgo. That’s what Agent Garcia finally—reluctantly—shared with us…after Gordo and I incessantly badgered her.

Lola brutally killed Hidalgo before bein’ shot. Juarez’s team found traces of her blood and bullet casings amidst the little evidence they managed to salvage from the explosion and fire damage.

The team concluded the dismembered body parts that showed signs of torture before bein’ incinerated beyond recognition were Lola’s.

Gordo still thinks I’m a fool for continuin’ to search for any traces of Lola through South and Central America. I’ve kept it quiet and been doin’ most of the legwork myself ’cause I don’t need others outside our circle to know what I’m doin’. Only Gordo and my best three men, Diego, Luis, and Miguel, have been helpin’ me.

It sounds crazy, and maybe I’m just swimmin’ in an ocean of denial, but I feel like I’d know if she were dead. That this heart of mine wouldn’t be missin’ her so damn bad, but it’d be even worse.

My woman sacrificed her safety and well-being so I could get my daughter back. And although I’ve seen shit go sideways countless times, for some reason, I’m havin’ a hard time believin’ it could end like this for Lola.

For us.

“’Night, Daddy. Love you.”

“’Night, baby.” I smooth a hand over her curls before I turn off her light. “Love you.” I edge outta her room, closin’ the door behind me.

I’m still not used to sayin’ those words, but if all this shit has taught me anythin’, it’s to never hold back. I shouldn’t be afraid of sayin’ words that I mean just ’cause I’m not used to ’em.

Lola taught me a lot. That I shouldn’t be afraid of words that mean everythin’ to others.

That I matter more to this little girl’a mine than I realized.

That I was fuckin’ around all these years, thinkin’ I didn’t need anybody. Thinkin’ I already had everythin’ I needed.

I head to my office, intent on tacklin’ some work. Whatever it takes to keep me distracted from missin’ Lola.

Somebody’s waitin’ on me, it seems. The bastard’s even sittin’ in my chair, his feet propped on the edge of the desk, ankles crossed.

Drinkin’ my goddamn beer.

“Get the fuck outta my chair.” My tone is wearier than threatenin’, which is probably why he grins and slowly drops his feet and rises.

Saunterin’ over to the small fridge beside the bookshelf, he pulls out another Imperial. He removes the cap and extends it to me.

I grab the beer and circle my desk before slumpin’ into my seat, the leather creakin’ beneath me.

I force myself to take a long drink of beer before voicin’ the question. Tonight weighs heavily on me—heavier than usual—’cause it’s exactly a year since Lola left. It takes concentrated effort to force the words out.

“Any news?”

He waits for my gaze to meet his before he answers. And fuck if it doesn’t feel like a simultaneous gut punch and knee-slam to my dick. ’Cause his expression says it all.

Gordo shakes his head slowly. “Not a trace of ’er to be found.”

Fuck. The bottom of my stomach still drops even though this isn’t new. I’ve been gettin’ the same result every time.

Gordo tips back his beer, takin’ a long swallow before levelin’ me with a sharp look.

My tone is gruff. “What?”

“Not plannin’ to give up anytime soon, huh?”

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