Page 3 of When Lies Unfold

Another shot rings out, and my entire body jolts in response. My previous thought of getting help for the man evaporates as the second bullet enters his forehead, causing a graphic spatter of brains and blood to decorate the floor, the lower part of the walls, and the sliding glass door.

I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle my horrified gasp and dart back inside the bedroom to escape detection.

“It’s what you get for tryin’ to fuck with me.” Pride blankets the murderer’s words.

Back pressed flush against the bedroom wall, my chest heaves with short, staccato breaths. Adrenaline courses through my veins as the horrifying scene I’ve just witnessed replays behind my eyes.

Rapid footsteps sound, indicating new arrivals, and shouting rings out between the killer and another man. It all turns to static in my ears as my heart pumps so loudly it’s near deafening.

I should’ve considered it an omen that Sabrina couldn’t partner with me tonight. I should’ve turned this job down. But that would mean one of the younger girls would’ve been in this position. The girls who have their whole lives ahead of them. Young and naïve and so innocent.

Calm down and think, dammit! My knees quake before I lock them in place and attempt to stifle my raging nerves.

I send up a silent plea that they’ll leave soon. That I’ll be able to sneak out of here undetected. Since I’m pressed against the wall parallel to the hallway, even if they walk past the doorway, they won’t see me. But if necessary, I’ll climb out this bedroom window and shimmy down somehow.

Even though it’s a steep drop to the ground and there’s a good chance I’ll get injured, at least it’s a way out of here alive. Then they’ll never know?—

The muzzle of a gun presses against my temple before I even detect the man’s presence.

Shit. How did he move so stealthily?

An eerie silence descends, accompanied by the sensation of the air thickening with palpable tension. I don’t dare turn my head even a fraction because I don’t need to see the proof. Instinctively, I know his finger’s poised on the trigger.

My other senses burst to the forefront, bringing the unexpected observation that a criminal makes an effort to wear expensive yet not overpowering cologne.

“Who the fuck are you, and what’re you doin’ spyin’ on us?” His deep, raspy voice possesses a far different brand of menace than the killer I just witnessed. This man’s voice promises death and holds zero compassion.

Shit, shit, shit. Why is this happening to me?! Panic threatens to overflow, but I force it back down to offer a more composed response. “I wasn’t spying. I’m just here to clean. I work for Aarón?1 Madrigal. You can call him and verify.”

The gun presses harder, the metal digging into my skin. “Yeah? So, what are you doin’ hidin’ in here?”

I steel my spine, my fingers flexing at my sides. “I heard a noise and wondered what it was, but I didn’t see anything.”

I have yet to see the man’s face, as he hasn’t moved from his position outside my periphery.

A sound rumbles deep in his throat, acerbic and derisive. “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s true.” I pinch my eyes closed and internally plead with the universe to undo this shit. My words emerge encased with frantic determination. “I didn’t see anything. Look, I need this job, so please, let me go.”

This can’t be how it ends. It can’t. I didn’t make it this far to be murdered for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I coolly repeat, “I’m only here because I needed to clean the house. I work for Aarón Madrigal.”

A beat passes before he rasps, “What’s your name?”

None of your damn business is what I barely resist firing back at him. “Lola. Lola Arias.” My response is stiff and begrudging.

He grunts out a command. “Find everythin’ you can.”

“On it, boss.” This response comes from nearby but still out of my view. I don’t dare turn my head to see who he is talking to.

Murmurs sound while I stare at the window as though it’s my beacon of hope. Because it may very well be just that.

I’d much rather launch myself out that window, break my neck, and die by my own hands than succumb to theirs. I’ve come too far to have it end like this.

When the man holding the gun to my temple suddenly leans closer, his mouth a hairsbreadth away from my ear, I go stock-still. Goose bumps rise along my skin before his gravelly voice washes over me.

“Sure you ain’t here spyin’ on shit?” His low rumble is accompanied by his large palm that lands at the center of my chest. He drags his hand down between my breasts before his fingers slide beneath the hem of my shirt to ghost along the bare skin of my stomach.

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