Page 36 of Born Sinner
Three to be exact.
A fortified wall of emotionlesssicarioswho don’t give a damn what I want or think.
Super.
Although I can’t see anything, my confidence is in control and leading the charge, while common sense lounges somewhere three or four rungs down the ladder.
Another of my father’s warnings filter through my head as I cross the threshold into the living room.Arrogance can be your strongest asset or your weakest flaw.
Arrogance is why I don’t bother turning on the lights.
Or maybe the mouse just wants to be caught.
“You’re late.”
I stumble into the wall, letting out something between a gasp and a shriek, when the lamp beside the couch clicks on. Harsh yellow light spills across the room, illuminating the man sitting on my couch. His favored slicked-back dark hair is wild and chaotic, casting a stark contrast against the pristine white leather and giving him a sinister glow. Three buttons on his shirt are open at the collar, highlighting the strained muscles in his neck that lead to one hell of a pissed-off scowl.
Adrenaline deflates from my chest, and I sigh in both relief and irritation. “¡Ay Dios mío, Santi! What the hell?”
“Pack your shit,” he deadpans, his expression tight.
“Excuse me?”
“Did I stutter?” Rising to his feet, my brother crosses the room, all six foot four inches of him looming over me like a warden. “You’re leaving for Mexico tonight.”
I stare up at him, blinking rapidly as if the movement will force clarity into those five words. “What?”
“You heard what I said.”
“I have a life here!” I shout, my panic escalating as I move in front of him, blocking his path. “Myownlife with myownfriends. I don’t want to leave it.”
“I didn’t ask what you wanted,chaparrita. You’re leaving, and that’s final.”
Final.He growls the word likepapá. As if his command is the damn gospel. As if I’m not an adult with a brain and free will.Granted, an adult who disobeyed him and got herself roofied and branded, but that’s beside the point…
I fling my arms around like a broken windmill. “Do I not get a say in this?”
“No.”
I want him to yell. Instead, he remains rigid and stoic.
“Santi!”
“This is not up for discussion.” He steps forward, and I automatically step back. “I warned you to stay away from Sanders, and you wouldn’t listen. Now they know.”
“Knowwhat?” I demand. “And who’sthey?” He’s talking in circles, and I’m tired of standing on the outside of them, trying to decipher my family’s cryptic talk.
“Dante Santiago,” he bites out between clenched teeth. “My contacts in New York saw him pay Senator Sanders a visit a few days ago. Care to guess the main topic of conversation?”
My stomach plummets to my feet. “Me?”
He doesn’t confirm nor deny. Instead, he paces in front of me, another trait he inherited from our father. The more he paces, the faster he talks. “Your cover is blown,chaparrita. They know María Diaz is an alias. They know who you are, and now they’re going to use you to get to me andpapá. We can’t take that chance, so you’re going back to Mexico where the cartel can protect you.”
I can’t stop staring at the dark circles flashing under his eyes every time he passes me. Jesus, it looks like he hasn’t slept in days…maybe weeks. I noticed it at the pizzeria, but it’s gotten worse. His obsession with this feud between our family and the Santiagos is consuming him.
“There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”
“No.” When he faces me, I recoil. The brother who used to laugh with me as we snuck cookies from the kitchen in the middle of the night disappears behind the hardened mask of a criminal. “You’re in over your head, Lola. You’re drowning, and you don’t even know it.”
