Page 57 of When Lies Unfold

When he continues, his conversational tone is misleading. “When I was younger, there was this kid in my school. He lived in a different neighborhood. In a run-down place everybody made fun of.”

Gordo stops at the one-way bridge, yielding to the cars with the right-of-way. “He’d be wearin’ wrinkled clothes and would inhale the school lunch like it was gonna be his last meal.

“Sometimes, he’d have visible bruises. More often than not, though, he’d look so damn tired, his eyes had permanent dark circles beneath ’em.”

I study Gordo’s profile as his mouth flattens, his hands tensing their grip on the steering wheel. “His parents were addicts. They were fuckin’ scum, too, if you wanna know the truth.”

He expels a slow breath, disgust dripping from every word. “His parents got his sister addicted, and she followed in their footsteps. They’d beat on him. They’d sell off everythin’ they fuckin’ had for their next fix. Even tried to sell him once, too.”

Horror floods me at the idea of a small, helpless child in that position.

My tone is gentle. “Let me guess. That kid was you.”

“Nope.” His immediate response surprises me. His eyes briefly lock with mine in the rearview mirror before returning to the road. “That kid was Santiago.”

Shock reverberates through me. What?

As if privy to my thoughts, Gordo nods. “Yeah. He had to grow up fast and learn to be a fighter early on. He didn’t have anybody to protect him—only had himself to rely on.”

“I know the feeling.” The words spill out on their own, so quiet I expect them to be swallowed by the sound of the air-conditioning pumping through the vents.

“That’s what I thought.”

I eye him warily. “Why are you telling me this?”

He shrugs as the vehicle climbs the steep drive to Santiago’s compound. “Sometimes, people got a lot more in common than they think. And maybe you gotta give a little to get somethin’ in return.”

“You do realize how suspicious this all seems.” I fix him with a dubious stare. “After being interrogated last night.”

“Yeah, well…” He huffs out a breath. “We talked and agreed that you haven’t been treated in the best way.”

“You think so?”

His eyes spark with amusement at my cynicism-laced remark. “You’re gonna be treated like a guest from now on. You can come and go as you normally would in your own place.”

His announcement hangs between us as he parks in front of Santiago’s home. Turning in his seat, Gordo pins me with a hard expression that I’m sure has most people shitting themselves.

“But know that if you fuck it up, you won’t like the consequences.”

Once I offer a curt nod, he appears satisfied, his shoulders releasing some of their tension as we exit the vehicle.

Gesturing for me to precede him in entering Santiago’s home, I take one step, then stop and spin around to face him.

With a trace of concern etched on his features, his gaze narrows. “What?”

“Won’t he be”—I wave a hand dismissively—“upset knowing you told me all that?”

“Nah.” Leaning closer, he lowers his voice, and it holds more than a hint of smug amusement. “’Cause I didn’t tell you anythin’ that’s a secret.”

I study him for a second before wagging my finger at him. “This whole good cop act is a waste, because I don’t have anything to hide.”

He adopts a wounded look. “That hurts my feelin’s. I thought we were becomin’ friends.” His mouth curves into a hopeful grin. “We could be LoGo.”

A surprised huff falls from my lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I brush past him, shaking my head.

“GorLol?” he calls after me. He doesn’t bother to disguise his amusement. “C’mon, now. What about GorLol?”

When a faint smile tugs at my lips, I scold myself and increase my pace. Because I’d be stupid to think Santiago’s second-in-command is being nice to me without an agenda.

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