Page 20 of When Lies Unfold

“You were in there a while.” With raised brows, he slides me a glance, but I ignore him. “Even before Nando showed up.”

Instead, I stare out the windshield while my fingers drum absently against the console. “She slept with a knife all night.” I clench my jaw while our interaction replays in my mind. “Even tried to use it on me.”

“And you still let her live.” He pauses before addin’, “Again.”

Defensiveness flares up inside me. “I’m not goin’ soft, if that’s what you’re tryin’ to say.”

Soft is the last fuckin’ thing I am around that woman. Don’t know what the hell my deal is, but she just gets under my damn skin.

The sassy way she mouths off to me… That and the fire in her eyes when she looks at me have my dick confused as fuck.

Thing is, I didn’t make it this far, get this much success by thinkin’ with anythin’ other than my goddamn brain. Which means I gotta tread all too fuckin’ carefully.

Gordo raises a hand off the steerin’ wheel, wavin’ off my concern. “Just sayin’… Think we both know she’s different. Not like other women.” He makes a right at the next road, his tone turnin’ thoughtful. “Definitely not a pushover.”

“Agreed.” Especially when she’s on her own turf, like back at her little casita.

“She’s smart, but I think she wants to hide it. Likes lyin’ low.” He glances over at me. “She keeps to herself. Found out her only close friend is Sabrina Salazar.”

I grunt, a scowl takin’ over. “Don’t forget about Nando fuckin’ around with her.”

“He’s harmless.” Gordo makes a noncommittal noise. “Just a decent guy who’s lookin’ for a good woman.”

Somethin’ in his voice has my head whippin’ his way, my gaze narrowin’. “You tryin’ to say she’s a good woman?”

He lifts one mammoth-sized shoulder. “Seems like it. It’s obvious he’s into her. She coulda gone straight to Nando.” He slides me a knowin’ look. “And he woulda come after you in a heartbeat.”

Silence lags before I finally murmur, “But she didn’t.”

“But she didn’t,” Gordo echoes.

I grip the muscles in the back of my neck. “I think she knows how to speak English, too.”

Gordo slides me a glance. “How’d you find that out?”

“Nando switched over, tryin’ to give me shit. She acted like she didn’t know what we were sayin’, but…”

“But you could tell?”

I exhale slowly, my mind replayin’ the scene. “Yeah.” I’m good at readin’ people—always have been—and this time’s no different.

Gordo hums under his breath. “Not too many people speak it around here. Unless they went to a fancy private school or had a private English tutor.”

He’s right. This area isn’t affluent in the least. While many Tico?1 homes are without glass windows or screens and only have curtains to cover them, some even have dirt floors. Definitely not the people who can afford to take English lessons.

Even so, these are some of the kindest and happiest humans you’ll ever come across. Never moanin’ about the shit they don’t have and instead show gratitude for what they do.

It’s completely different from where I grew up where good-for-nothin’ lazy asses complained about not havin’ shit just ’cause they couldn’t be bothered to get a damn job, let alone keep one.

I may own an enormous home these days, but it’s outta necessity rather than me flauntin’ my wealth. It’s not to show how far I’ve come, but ’cause security and seclusion are vital for me and my business.

My cell phone beeps with a text notification.

We need to meet before the next shipment comes through.

He’s causing problems again.

Jesus Christ. Juarez doesn’t say it outright and doesn’t need to. I can read between the lines: Hidalgo’s fuckin’ around.

---