Page 54 of Twin Deception

A doctor was rushed into the small room after the nurses. “What’s going on here?”

Oh, he was a young doctor. He wouldn’t be so gullible. I laid it on even thicker, placing my head on Miguel’s good shoulder as the doctor and nurses snapped on new gloves and assessed the gunshot wound Miguel had received on the outer side of his arm.

“My husband!” I cried, letting my natural accent really push through. “My new husband isdying!”

This young doctor would dismiss me as overreacting and too much drama to deal with, but that was exactly what we needed. Already, the nurses were cleaning out the wound while the doctor checked Miguel’s vitals.

Over the doctor’s shoulder, while the nurses weren’t looking at his face, he raised his brows in a silent question that I ignored. I carried on like a sobbing, irrational mess of too many emotions, lying on the spot and concocting a wild, ridiculous story about a lover’s spat and how some thug had shot at us.

When one nurse started jotting things down, vitals and whatnot, she asked for our names.

I laid it on thick all over again, dodging the questions. Each time they asked for more details of how this had happened or where, and each time they requested our names, I turned on the waterworks and deterred them from asking where we were from or what had happened.

If Miguel was affiliated with thugs or criminals, we didn’t need anyone in the law enforcement agencies to be looking for us.

All through getting him stitched up and checked out—which didn’t take too long—I evaded telling them anything useful. But at the end of it, they all seemed eager to just get us out of there. No one wanted a loud, theatrical woman being disruptive.

We exited together, and as soon as we were away from the clinic, I heaved out a sigh and nodded once. “Okay, so that’s done with.”

“Whatwasthat?” he asked, walking better. The kind doctor had dismissed his ankle pain as a slight sprain.

“Avoiding giving our names.” I shot him a dubious look, as if that should’ve been obvious. Almost passing right by a store, I put my arm out to barricade him in place. “Now.” I tipped my chin toward the shop. “Now a change of clothes.” Without offering him any further explanation, I led him toward the racks of clothes where we’d be able to get more options to hide in.

“I’m your husband now?” he asked, mildly amused.

I shrugged. “It made for a good story. I emphasized how distraught I was about my husband’s demise so if anyone were to ask them later, they’d recall a married couple, not two people thrown together.”

“I feel like I’ve been thrown into something with you.”

I huffed. “Same.”

I paid in cash. Then while he changed in the men’s room, I switched into a new dress and sandals, braided my hair low, and donned a floppy hat.

We reconvened in the back of the store, and after unplugging the security camera out the back door, we slipped out undetected.

It wasn’t until we walked further from the hotel he’d brought me to that he cleared his throat and peered at me. We paused to get ice cream, too hot in this heat. Lemonade sounded too sticky and we both needed to eat. Somehow, in a mutual but unspokenagreement, we’d decided that it would be better to keep moving than to stop and rest long enough for a meal.

“How are you so good at this?”

I raised my brows and licked my ice cream cone.

He stared for a moment at the rove of my tongue on the tip of the ice cream.

“Hiding. Blending in. You knew to pay with cash. You avoid having your face caught on cameras. You’re aware of where they’re anchored. If I hadn’t already gotten a file on you and known that you’re a mural artist, I’d be wondering ifyou’rethe cop.”

I shrugged. “I grew up with it. Louis?—”

“Why do you call him that?”

I blinked. “Because… it’s his name.”

“You don’t call him Father?”

“Why would I? Heisn’ta father to me.” Using his name helped keep the distance between us. “Louis has always been a paranoid bastard. He was afraid of someone coming after him after he was done screwing them over with a deal. He was tense that the cops and Feds would catch him. We moved a lot. We had to go into hiding and stay off the radar. Since I was a kid, he taught me little tips and tricks, and it’s a lifelong lesson that I haven’t forgotten yet.”

Walking again, as we licked our ice cream hopefully faster than it would all melt, I added some more. “He trained me to always be ready to go.”

“What about your mom?”

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