Page 60 of Dina's Favorite Mistake

“Yes, and there were photos.” Dina exhaled with grief and anger. “I don’t know why I kept that stupid file. I should have burned it or shredded it years ago.”

“You kept it because you knew that Camila deserved to learn the truth someday.” Steve pulled her in tight for a hug. “Stop blaming yourself. You’re a good mother. You’ve only ever tried to protect her.”

“Why do you always say the right thing?” She buried her face against his chest and gripped the sides of his shirt, holding on as if she feared she might fall. “Why are you always so good to me?”

Steve’s mouth grew suddenly dry. It was too soon to say the words, too soon to reveal just how hard he’d fallen for her. “You know why, Dina.”

If she did, she didn’t say it. She lingered in his embrace, drawing whatever strength she could from him before finally stepping away from. She met his serious gaze with one filled with hope and trepidation. “This way,” she said, her voice quiet. “Or else we’ll get caught.”

Like two kids sneaking out of a house, they traveled through hidden doors and down staircases that had once been used by servants. Or maybe not servants, Steve thought grimly as he considered how old the estate was. He suspected the history of the family included exploitation of natives or worse. Probably a lot worse.

“Through here.” Dina said and gestured with her finger to her lips to indicate he should stay silent. She carefully opened a door, pressing her hand against it as if to brace the hinges and prevent any squeaking. There was a short squeal, and she flinched before poking her head through the opening. “Okay. It’s clear.”

Steve followed her as she tiptoed across a hallway to a set of French doors. They emerged into the stormy afternoon. Rain pelted their faces as they ran across the yard to a building he hadn’t toured yet. She yanked open the door and led him inside a dusty, dirty garage filled with piles of junk.

“What is this?” he asked, taken aback by the mess. Everything around the estate was so clean and tidy. This place was a hoarder’s dream.

“Beto and Lola’s playhouse,” Dina grumbled derisively. “They’ve been collecting shit out here since they were kids. It’s the one place Mama allows them to do whatever they please.”

It looked exactly like the sort of place the two siblings could hide away and tinker for hours at a time. Old engines. Mechanical parts. Spools of wire. Pegboards weighed down by wrenches and pliers and miscellaneous electrical gear. Stained workbenches. Rows of rolling toolboxes.

And right in the center, an old Jeep with rugged tires and a snorkel and everything else an off-roading enthusiast could want.

“She broke her collarbone in this thing. Almost killed Beto twice.” Dina cautiously approached the olive-green Jeep. “She drags it back here, fixes it up and takes it right back out to blast through mud and up and down old riverbeds and God knows what else.”

“Can’t imagine where Camila got the idea to go chasing after her father,” Steve wryly replied. “Can’t possibly be from the bullheaded women surrounding her.”

Dina tossed a filthy red mechanic’s rag at him, striking him in the side of the head. He grinned at the fire in her eyes. She might be scared to death about her daughter, but she hadn’t given up the fight.

“I’ll drive.” Steve snatched the keys off the seat. “You navigate.”

“And then what?”

Steve eyed the scuffed-up Winchester 70 and the Mossberg pump action shotgun fastened into the overhead rifle rack. He had a feeling the quick-draw setup would come in handy soon enough. “We find Camila—and kill Diego.”

Chapter Nineteen

Oh. My. God.

What am I doing?

Why did I think this would be a good idea?

I want my mom.

I need my mom.

Why do I always do stupid stuff like this?

Why do I always think I know everything?

Why didn’t I tell Steve or Ama about the phone?

I’m going to die.

Camila bounced on the hard seat of the truck as the wheels struck a deep divot in the poorly maintained road. The rain was so thick she could hardly see anything in front of her, not even with the windshield wipers flapping as fast as possible and the high beams shining.

She eased off the accelerator and glanced at the GPS unit mounted on the dashboard. There was supposed to be a road ahead to the left, but she couldn’t see it. There were so manyovergrown trees, and the clouds were so dark. She could barely tell where the road in front of her was.

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