Page 122 of Undertow

“Ah.” Gerardo nods, but his gaze lingers on the rings around my wrists.

My pulse picks up. They know the truth. Of course they know. McArthur is an idiot to think he has any control over this “negotiation.”

I can’t stop my gaze from drifting toward the glass wall overlooking the ocean. Foreboding seeps through my stomach. A wave of dizziness overtakes me, but I can’t look away. Watching my death glisten in the radiant sun is a cruel distraction. If Merrick doesn’t keep his promise… If someone else is given the job…

I force down the terror creeping up my chest. My throat burns with the memory of muddy lake water. Salt water will burn even more as it rages toward my lungs.

“Shaw?” Gerardo says. By his expression, he’s waiting for an answer.

I blink back to the present. “Sorry, can you repeat the question?”

His brows pinch in irritation. He always hated how I’d get lost in my head. One of the many things that made me “weak.”

Gerardo and Madelyn assault me with disapproving stares before they turn to McArthur.

“Montgomery, would you allow us a few minutes alone with him? We’d really appreciate it,” Madelyn says.

McArthur’s expression sours, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. He knows by her tone, this is not a request. For once in his life, he doesn’t hold the power.

“Of course,” he says with a stiff smile. “I have a few calls to make anyway.”

Gerardo and Madelyn nod as the lesser man pushes up from the chair and heads toward the veranda. We wait in silence while he opens the glass door and closes it again. With thesymphony of ocean sounds out there, he won’t be able to hear our conversation.

Blood is racing through my veins.

“What really happened?” Gerardo asks once we’re alone. “You clearly fucked up. How bad is it?”

I wince at the familiar criticism. “Scarlett exposed me to the Hartfords. They did this.”

Gerardo and Madelyn release a breath and exchange a look. I force down the instinctive panic rising within me.

“And the Hartfords traded you back to McArthur in exchange for what?”

I lower my gaze.

“Tell us. I know you know.”

“Twenty percent.”

They snort a laugh.

“Twenty percent?” Gerardo huffs. “How does it feel to finally be worth so much?”

I flinch from the blow. I can’t look at them. I’m seven years old again.

“You fucked up, Jonah,” Gerardo continues. “We always knew you would, but at least you went down swinging for once. Thank you for La Quinta Muerte. That was valuable intel and the missing piece we needed.”

“When will you do it?” I ask, meeting their gazes again.

The familiar disdain in their eyes slices through my gut.

“Soon. Once we iron out the details and solidify our relationship with La Quinta Muerte.”

“And the Hartfords?”

“What do you think?” Madelyn says. “We’ll keep one of them for now. Until we get a handle on their operation since you fucked that up too. Maybe the girl.”

“Julia?” My voice contains too much hope, and I immediately regret it.

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