Page 73 of Drawn Blue Lines

This fucker wants to die tonight.

“Look, gringo,” I warned, jabbing a sharp nail into his chest. “Cris would never hurt me or betray me. I’m safe with him.”

“So now he’s Cris, huh?”

I threw my hands in the air. “Dios mío, I can’t with you.”

“¿Vas a venir hoy?” Are you coming today?

I glanced over my shoulder to where Tomás impatiently tapped his toe. Shit. I’d forgotten all about him. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I steadied my voice, leaving no room for argument. “Look, this might be our only chance to find out where Ignacio is hiding. Don’t screw this up for me, Brody. You’re not the only one who has a score to settle.”

He stared at me before finally exhaling a hard breath through his nose. “If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m coming after you.”

I didn’t say anything. What was the use? He’d only argue and waste more time. Besides, I knew his threat was empty. Cristiano had guards stationed at every possible entrance to the second level. He’d never make it past the dance floor.

Without another word, I walked away, following Tomás through a secured doorway, down three darkened hallways, and into a familiar elevator that let us out in front of an ominous black door.

He stopped so suddenly I almost barreled into the back of him. “I need a name.”

I blinked up at him, debating what to say. The one on my tongue burned and to speak it out loud felt like serving myself up on an altar of the damned. But, to cross that threshold, I knew there was only one answer. “Marisol.”

“Stay here,” he instructed as he knocked an intricate code on the door and waited. Eventually, the door clicked, and he disappeared inside.

I hated the way my stomach seesawed back and forth while I waited for him to return. A few moments later, the door opened, and Tomás nodded. “Go on in.”

Blowing out a nervous breath, I pushed my shoulders back and moved past him, the words I assured Brody now singing in my ear like a taunting child.

“Cris would never hurt me or betray me. I’m safe with him.”

However, the moment I stepped into his office, my past circled around me.

It watched.

It waited.

And then it swallowed me whole.

“Marisol Muñoz. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Adriana

Cristiano Vergara sat behind a sleek black desk, his elbows propped on the arms of his chair and his fingers steepled together under his chin. He looked older. Colder. Iniquitous with a razor edge that sent a chill down my spine. His eyes, the same ones that hypnotized me as an impetuous young girl, now held me immobile in the open doorway as a grown woman. Blue as the ocean with a depth that hid just as many secrets, they ripped back the layers of time as if they never existed.

Forcing my body to relax, I cocked my hip against the doorframe and shrugged the opposite shoulder. “I like to make an entrance.” My confidence sounded weak, but there was no turning back now.

Cristiano raised a dark eyebrow. “You always did. But a man has his limits, Mari. My patience isn’t infinite.”

I swallowed hard, trying not to cringe at that name.

“Well, you know what they say, good things come to those who wait.”

“Do you also know what they say happens when a woman keeps a man waiting?”

I flashed him a wicked grin. “She holds all the cards?”

“He reflects on her shortcomings.” His familiar eyes flashed, sending an unspoken message. Our past granted me certain privileges, but my silence set limitations.

---