Page 7 of When Lies Unfold

“No.” Her answer’s instant, with no hesitation whatsoever. Either she’s a magnificent liar or she’s been livin’ under a rock. That’s not my arrogance talkin’; it’s pure facts.

Not only do I have a stronghold over this area, but my territory extends well past our northern and southern borders. Central America itself is my fuckin’ domain.

Because of that, my reputation’s well-known and the majority of law enforcement officers are on my payroll. Most local business owners are, too.

One of whom happens to be Aarón, her employer.

“I should introduce myself properly, then.” When I edge even closer, the flicker of her pulse in her neck defies her bold, brave façade. In the blink of an eye, I have my gun’s muzzle beneath her chin, and her lips part a fraction before stampin’ shut.

“I’m Santiago Hernández, and I rule this place.” I wait for a flicker of recognition across her face, but nothin’ comes. Her only reaction is the flash of anger that ripples over her features.

“Word on the street is a certain cop has his eyes on you.” I bring our faces closer, my tone lethal and low. “Which means I can’t take your word that you’ll keep your mouth shut. I’ve got no way of knowin’ you won’t go confessin’ everythin’ to the cops.”

Her jaw goes tight, those brown eyes spearin’ me with obstinance. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” Her voice is clear, tone firm and resolute. “And if I say I promise I won’t tell anyone, I mean it.”

A caustic, derisive sound rumbles in my chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes never leave mine, and fuck if a hint of admiration at her ballsiness doesn’t rear up inside me.

Our gazes hold a long beat while my men remain poised to jump into action if necessary. Howler monkeys sound in the distance, loud and echoin’ through the jungle, but I never tear my eyes off her.

I scan her features for any semblance of dishonesty before lowerin’ my gun to my side. My trigger finger’s still twitchy as fuck, though. “I’ll be watchin’ you, Miss Arias.”

My voice drops an octave, and that pulse in her throat goes wild. “I catch you runnin’ your mouth to anyone, it’s all over. Understood?”

She replies with zero hesitation. “Understood. I won’t say a word to anyone.”

“Good.” I dip my chin a fraction, never breakin’ eye contact. “That’s a smart choice.”

“So…this means we’re done here.” She glances at the area she’s just cleaned before her attention returns to me. “We’re even.”

A rumble climbs up my chest, and I shake my head. “Oh no, Miss Arias. We’re not done. Not even close.” With a smirk, I add, “As a token of your goodwill and promise that you won’t talk, I expect you to keep me informed if anybody comes around askin’ any questions.”

She lifts her chin a notch, eyes flashin’ with irritation. “No one will be coming around asking any questions because this place is spotless.”

I raise my brows a fraction, and her mouth flattens. “I suppose we’ll see.”

She flexes her fingers on her left hand before curlin’ them inward. Flexes, then inward again. But only the left. The hand that’s almost entirely covered in ink.

When she notices my attention lingerin’ on it, she immediately stops. “Is that all, Mr. Hernández?”

I barely resist the urge to laugh at her formal use of my name. Mr. Hernández. Nobody calls me Mr. anythin’. It’s either boss to my men or motherfucker to those who hate me.

Gordo’s the only one who’s earned the right to call me anythin’ different. We’ve been friends the longest and survived tragic shit most would consider nightmares. Still, he only calls me by my first name when no one else is around. He’s a stickler for followin’ protocol.

“Mr. Hernández... So prim and proper.” I repeat this slowly, my tone encased in amusement. It serves to piss her off if the stiffenin’ of her shoulders and clench of her jaw are any indication. “No, Miss Arias. That’s not all.”

Every trace of humor in my voice abruptly dies as I narrow my gaze on her. “We’ll see to it that you get home safely and”—I pause—“I’ll have eyes on you in the meantime. You know…in case you forget your promise.”

A caginess edges into her features, eyes dartin’ to the men surroundin’ us. “I can get home without any assistance.” Obstinance bleeds through in her voice. “I’ve been getting by just fine by myself, so I’m certain tonight won’t be any different.”

My smile isn’t kind, and she goes rigid the instant I flash it. “Oh, but I insist, Miss Arias.” My voice grows quieter, lowerin’ to a murmur, but it holds a threat that’s evident for anyone with two fuckin’ brain cells. “And I won’t have it any other way.”

Mouth tense, her eyes narrow a fraction. “How do I know you won’t just kill me on the drive home?”

My smile evaporates; my answer is succinct and honest. “You don’t.”

5

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