“Hello, Sailor.” I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. The tone of her voice suggested civility, but there was no warmth to it. “Where are you?”
Inhaling deeply, I let the breath slowly out.
“I’m safe. At Ashford's place,” I told her vaguely. The Ashfords had many places around the States. “I’m in trouble.” There was no sense in dragging this on. “I-I need money and was hoping I could-” God, why did this suck so much? “I hoped I could borrow ten thousand.”
Silence stretched.
“I need to disappear for a bit,” I explained. “My article about the cartel brought some heat on us and our lives are in danger.”
The moment I heard her soft snicker, I knew I made the wrong choice.
“I read the article. It’s causing quite a stir.” Her voice was cold. Uncaring. Just the way I remembered it. The nonchalant tone was the very same one she gave me when I ran to her crying, telling her Father was hurting Anya.
Right before she slapped me across the face and forbade me to ever repeat such words. Or else.
Anger simmered inside me. “Aren’t you going to ask how your grandson is?”
“He’s not my grandson.” I could hear disgust in her voice even over the line. “He should have been given up for adoption. He’ll never be a McHale.”
“He’s your own flesh and blood,” I rasped. “He’s my son. He’s the only thing we have left from Anya. How can you even suggest that he should have been given up?”
“He’s a Latino.” My heart iced over, then turned into inferno. The word sounded filthy coming from her.
“He’s a boy,” I shouted through the line. “Your grandson. My son! Nothing more and nothing less.”
“He’s a bastard. A disgrace to our bloodline and our family.”
“The only disgrace is you.” My hands shook with anger. “You and Father. You don’t deserve him. Us. You never did. You fucking failed us. You should have protected Anya,” my voice wobbled. ”You should have protected us from him. Instead, you led us to him like sheep to a slaughterhouse.”
A heartbeat of silence.
“Why did you call?”
“It was a mistake. One I don’t intend to repeat. Ever.” Anger boiled, making my rage and hurt spill through my veins. “Don’t expect to ever hear from me again.”
“You’ll be crawling back to us,” she sneered. “You’re practically there.”
“I’d rather die than crawl back to you.” I’d find another way to protect my son. “You’ll never see me again. And I never intend to see you again. Goodbye,Cecilia.”
Because I’d never call that woman my mother again.
Desperate times and all that shit could go fuck itself.
ChapterSeventeen
SAILOR
It was hours away from dawn and sleep wouldn’t find me.
It had been less than twenty-four hours since I came face-to-face with Raphael Santos. Now, I stared at the dark ceiling, reliving each moment and word spoken. To him. To my mother.
Memories choked me. So did this hate that burned every time I thought of my parents.
How could I have been so stupid? To call my mother. I really fucking hoped she wouldn’t tell Father that I called.Idiot, idiot, idiot.
And then there was the matter of Raphael Santos. The moment I saw his face, I recognized the features. If that goddamn explosion didn’t happen, I would have gotten out of there without any further contact.
He had to be there because of the Tijuana case. In what capacity, there was no knowing.