Page 57 of Loco

At the last second, Roque’s voice echoed in my mind, telling me to pull into the garage tonight, so I turned the wheel, easing up the driveway.

To my surprise, the garage door groaned to life immediately, rising with a mechanical hum. The thing hadn’t worked properly in months. I’d half-expected it to sputter, blink, then give up like it usually did. But it hadn’t, and what waited behind it nearly made me laugh.

The chaos I’d left in there—boxes of God-knows-what shoved wherever they’d fit during the renovation—had been organizedand stacked neatly against the back wall like it had been inventoried, possibly even categorized.

Whoever Roque had brought in to do this either had obsessive-compulsive tendencies or was a borderline psychopath. Maybe both.

I pulled in slowly, glancing around like I’d just entered someone else’s garage. The door behind me rumbled closed automatically, making me flinch in my seat.

I got out, grabbed my bag, and reached for groceries when an arm slid around my waist in the dark.

I nearly screamed.

A hand, warm and gentle, covered my mouth before the panic could break loose.

“It’s me,” Roque whispered, breath brushing my ear. “You’re okay.”

I twisted in his arms and kissed him, the relief hitting like a second heartbeat. Then I pulled back just enough to hiss, “You scared theshitout of me.”

A noise behind us—something shifting near the back of the garage—made me jump again.

Roque kept his hand on my waist. “It’s just Judd,” he said calmly. “He’s checking over your car. Don’t panic.”

I blinked, still trying to recalibrate. “Should I be panicking?”

“Not if we stay ahead of it,” he said ominously. Then his voice dropped into something softer but no less serious. “I’m putting a tracker in your car. I need your phone, the sneakers you wear towork, and anything else you always have on you. We’re tagging everything.”

I didn’t argue. I reached into my coat pocket and handed over my phone without hesitation. “You’re not getting the shoes yet, though. I’m wearing them into the house. It’s cold, and my feet hurt.”

He smirked and brushed a kiss on my temple. “Just go through the side door and act normal. We’ll meet you inside in five.”

I gave him a look. “Normal?”

He arched a brow. “Like you didn’t nearly punch me in the garage.”

I rolled my eyes but turned, grabbing the groceries and slipping out the side door into the cool night air. Even with adrenaline humming through my blood, I trusted them, and whatever was going on, I knew I wasn’t walking into it alone.

I slipped through the side door, groceries cradled in my arms and used my elbow to hit the lights. The hallway lit up with a comforting glow. I crossed to the front room and pulled the wooden blinds shut, one by one. It was part of my routine—lights on, blinds closed—keeping the warmth in and the outside world out. That counted as ‘normal,’ right? But as I moved into the kitchen, something felt off.

I stepped through the doorway—and froze. Four people were standing in my kitchen.

I smacked a hand over my mouth to muffle the scream that nearly launched itself from my throat and almost dropped the damn milk.

Roque, Judd, a woman I didn’t know, and another man watched me with amusement. I stared at them, my heart thudding like it wanted out of my chest.

“Sorry,” Roque said quickly, stepping forward. “We didn’t mean to scare you.”

“They let us in while you were at the store,” the woman added gently. “Didn’t want you walking into a dark house alone.”

“Y’all should’ve waited in the living room,” Judd muttered. “This looks like an intervention.”

“You scared the life out of me,” I said into my palm, voice muffled. “You said five minutes, not five seconds.”

“We work fast,” Roque winced, glancing at the other man.

The serious one stepped forward, a slight tilt of apology in his expression. “I’m Kai.”

I nodded, still holding the milk to my chest. “Okay, Kai. Why are you in my kitchen?”

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