Page 12 of Born Sinner
I nod. It makes me sick to my stomach, but he’s right. This is the way of our world, and no amount of pleading will change it.
As the pressure on my hand releases, I jerk my phone to my chest.Bad move.White, hot, pain tears through my body like a greased bobsled.
“Something’s wrong.”
It’s not a question.
“Yeah.” I wince, shifting in my chair. “Our father is about to castrate a man, and I’m about to throw up my spleen. Not a good day for vital organs.”
Awesome, Lola. Crack a joke. That’s always helpful.
He ignores my insolence. “Every time you move, you wince and clench your fists. You’re hurt, so I’ll ask again. Where were you last night?” He jabs a finger at me from across the table. “And don’t lie to me.”
“I sort of had a date.”Technically, it’s not so much a lie as a bent truth.“It didn’t go so well.”
“What does that mean?”
“He gave me a drink, and then it’s all a big blur.”
Santi’s restrained anger explodes, his palms smacking the table again as his feet hit the floor. Glasses rattle and tip over, shattering into serrated pieces. “You deliberately put yourself in a vulnerable situation, opening the door for some asshole to roofie you? Of all the stupid—”
The entire restaurant falls silent as eyes shift toward us. This is the last thing either of us needs. “Santi,” I plead in a low tone. “Please don’t. Not here.”
His gaze shifts to the left before he slowly sinks back into his seat. But I don’t take my eyes off him. Just because the dragon isn’t roaring, that doesn’t mean he’s not still breathing fire.
“Name,” he says flatly.
“Santi…”
“Name,chaparrita. Don’t make me seek it out myself.” He issues the threat calmly, his nostrils flaring like a restrained raging bull. “You won’t like what happens.”
I believe him.
“Troy Davis.”
Santi pulls out his phone, and within seconds, he has someone on the line. “It’s Carrera. Find a student named Troy Davis. Bring him to the docks and then wait for me there.” Without another word, he disconnects the call and pockets his phone.
“What are you going to do?”
He holds my stare for one too many skipped heartbeats before speaking again, his tone dangerously calm. “You’re a Carrera, Lola. You should know better than to let your guard down. Do you know how many men in this town would take a blade to you just to get to me? To get topapá?”
“No worries. Troy already took care of that,” I mutter.
His eyes narrow into deadly slits. “Show me.”
“Here? No!”
“I won’t ask twice. You can show me, or I’ll have RJ show me.” He tilts his head to his left, where our cousin, Santi’s second-in-command, sits watching our every move.
So that’s who he was looking at.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I hiss, calling his bluff.
“Try me.”
“You let him anywhere near me, andpapáwill shove a gun so far up your ass, you’ll be burping bullets.”
His full lips tip into a disturbing smile. “You thinkpapáwon’t sanction my commands? Think again,chaparrita.I’m king in this state. You’re just the kidwhoditched her guard, went to a Santiago-affiliated party, and got herself roofied.”
