Page 48 of Luka

First of all, leaving was entirely my idea. Mario only went along with?—

No, I can’t say that. IforcedMario to come somehow.

How?

I bite my lip as I pull to a stop at a light and wipe one sweaty palm on my lap, then the other.

I fell in love, Papá. So maddeningly in love that I couldn’t possibly bear the idea of being married off to another man. Itmustbe Mario.

That’s a good start. I pull through the green light.

But you see, he knew it could never be. He has nothing but respect for you, Papá, so much that he refused to see me. So I threatened him. I told him I was running away without him, and I would give myself to the first man I met who would take me in. I knew that’s what it would take to force him to come with me.

I let out a shuddering breath and shake my head. That isn’t good enough. Even if it was true, it wouldn’t be good enough.

The fact is, Mario drove me away, and something bad happened. My father will never accept his innocence. He probably already knows the truth anyway. It seems doubtful that Luka’s brother actually saw Mario, though I do believe he saw cartel members looking for me. Mario must be in some dungeon somewhere, bloodied and suffering, the truth spilled from his lips long ago.

It was Mario’s idea to run away. He encouraged me to choose a life for myself instead of accepting the one my father designed. So inventing lies won’t work.

If you kill him, you’ll have to kill me too.

That. That is what I’ll have to say.

I sit up straighter in the seat and press on the gas, my sweaty grip on the wheel tightening. It feels like it takes hours, but the clock on the dash says it’s another ten minutes before the stranger’s directions finally make sense and I see the Budget Inn up ahead that Leo described.

Even more hopeful, I see Mario’s truck in the parking lot.

My lips part, and I hunch over the wheel, a small cry slipping from me as relieved tears spring to my eyes. I park the car right next to Mario’s truck and hurry out, running up to the room directly in front and rapping my knuckles on the door.

The light is off inside, so I’m unsurprised when no one answers. I consider knocking on a few of the other doors, but instead focus on the businesses across the street. Leo said something about a bar.

I spot it immediately. There’s a neon sign with a beer mug on it and no name that I can see. I head that way, my heart picking up speed as I cross the street, afraid one of the cars will have Luka or Arseni in it.

But I’m safe now. I’msafe. I made it.

It’s Mario I need to worry for. At this point, it’s selfish to be thinking about myself.

When I push through the door to the bar, the bell chimes, letting everyone inside know there’s a new visitor. But it wouldn’t be necessary to alert them. My gasp does the job well enough.

I cry out his name the moment I see Mario at the bar, and every head in the establishment turns to me.

When Mario’s eyes find me, they widen to saucers, his jaw dropping. He stands abruptly, knocking his beer over in the process, and opens his arms when I barrel toward him. I fling my arms around him and squeeze, burying my face into his chest as I sob.

“Lucia,” he says, sounding amazed. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Instead of answering, I just squeeze him tighter until he hugs me back, smoothing his hand down my hair. I breathe in his overly powerful cologne, his scent so unlike Luka’s. As soon as it forms, I recoil at the thought. I should never compare him to another man, certainly notthatone.

“Lucia,” he says, pulling me back and holding my face so I’ll look at him. He darts his eyes over me like he’s inspecting me and lands on my bare feet.

What does he see? What will he think when he finds out I’m ruined?

“Whathappened?” he asks in Spanish, his voice bordering on stern.

“You were right,” I say, holding back a sob. I take a deep breath and force myself to calm. “American men are dangerous. I was taken by two and held captive. But I escaped.” I lift my chin, forcing pride to display instead of shame, but Mario doesn’t seem to notice either.

He turns to the man standing next to him with a look I can’t discern.

I’m struck by his reaction, orlackof one. So struck I find myself shuffling backward like I’ve been slapped.

---