Page 54 of Keep Me

She mumbles something intelligible and rolls away from me to grab her buzzing phone. She squints with one eye closed at the screen, and whatever she sees makes her sit up and answer right away. “Santi?”

She puts him on speaker. “You need to get to the Chariot as soon as you can.”

Her hand tightens around the phone. “What happened? Is Papá okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s Ángel. He killed himself.”

Reggie

An hour later, we’re walking down the hallway to Papá’s suite in the Chariot. Daniel is stationed outside the door, doing a great job of pretending like he can’t hear the belligerent shouting coming from the other side.

“How is he?” I ask with a grimace.

“As you’d expect,” he says flatly, opening the door and stepping aside to let us in.

A lamp whizzes past our vision and shatters against the wall. Santiago is slouched in an armchair, his head propped on his hand as he watches our father rage, like a mother waiting out her child’s tantrum. My father gulps down the rest of the liquor in his glass, then hucks it at the wall to join the smashed remains of the lamp.

“Santi.” I grab his attention, and he looks up, not having heard us enter over the violent yelling. He walks over while our father drops onto the edge of the bed and pours another glass of tequila. Jesus, this is bad. “What the hell happened? Did he leave a note?” I ask frantically.

“Yeah.” Santi’s lips flatten into a hard line. “Apparently he’s been stealing from the organization for years and couldn’t live with the guilt anymore—or the fear of being caught. He’d killed those women when they found out what he was doing, and then you started looking into their deaths.”

“No, that’s crazy. He wouldn’t—” I face my father, asking in disbelief, “You don’t believe this do you, Papá?”

I look at Roan and can tell he’s not buying this either. It’s too neat and yet leaves too many unanswered questions.

“People betray those closest to them all the time. I made it too easy because I trusted him.” His knuckles whiten around the glass before he slams it back.

I reach for the bottle when he goes to pour more. “You need to calm down. Look at this logically,” I plead, waiting for him to see some sense beyond his rage.

His nostrils flare, and he rips the bottle from my hands. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do, cabrona—”

Roan bristles. “Watch how you speak to her—”

“What are you still doing here, Fox? Your job is done. Threat’s over.” He stands, rolling his shoulders back. “That’s the only reason you’re here, right? My daughter is a job to you and nothing else, remember?”

I can quickly see this getting out of hand, so I urge Roan back toward the door. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.” His jaw tenses, and he storms out the door and to the elevator.

We step inside, shoulder to shoulder. The tension rolling off him is so thick it fills the entire elevator. As soon as the doors close, he spins on me and growls, “This is fucking bullshit and you know it.”

“I know, but what are we supposed to do? We knew this was going to end sooner or later.” There’s a crack in my voice, giving away that I’m not just thinking about the threat. I’m thinking about us. Is there even an us outside of this job?

“I’ll tell you what we’re not supposed to do.” He crowds me up against the hand rest, energy crackling around him. “We’re not supposed to believe some shitty frame job and delude ourselves into thinking you’re actually safe.”

When the elevator stops, we walk into the lobby and I grab his arm, silently begging him to not make this more difficult than it has to be. “Whoever the Warden really is wants us to believe it’s Ángel. So right now, the safest thing we can do is go along with it. Let the Warden think we’ve stopped looking, and he’ll stop coming after us.”

His lip curls. “Is that really what you want? You want to buy some charade and give up because it’s the easier option?”

“No, of course not—”

“Then what do you want, Cortez? Because I’m not a fucking mind reader.” He lashes out like he can sense the impending hurt. When I think about what I need to say next, I’m fucking hurt too.

My throat tightens as if my body is trying to stop me. “We need to go back to our separate lives.” I drag my hand up my forehead and chew on my lip. “At least for now.”

His stony eyes turn black as coal. “Fine. As long as you admit this isn’t about the Warden or Ángel, but you being too cowardly to face your father with me on your arm.” His words are poison arrows slicing through my ribs and stinging with pure venom. It hurts the most because it’s the truth.

Still, I swallow down the urge to tell him he’s right and steel my spine. “I’m not a coward.”

He jabs a finger at his chest. “I know that. That’s why it’s so disappointing.” Fuck. The venom leaks into my bloodstream, burning like acid.

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