Page 58 of Marks of Rebellion
Vanessa motions for me to leave, and I decide it's best if I obey. I maneuver my way through the house and outside.
I scan the surroundings, but I can't see much. The outline of a few buildings that I assume are part of the estate, but other than that, we seem to be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by jungle.
The calls of the animals sound the same as the previous night. There's no clue where we are, other than Ryker drove south.
Are we really still in Belize?
I pick up both Ryker's and my backpacks, and when I get inside, I lock the door.
Not sure why I'm locking it.
Anyone who attempts to enter this man's house is asking for a beat down, or worse.
I pause and double-check my gun is in my bag then return to the kitchen.
"Technically, he's my husband," Julieta says, and I freeze.
"You're...oh." Ryker gapes.
"Why is he calling you Liliana?" I blurt out.
"It's my middle name. He's called me that since we were kids."
"So, you aren't someone else?"
"Hunter!" Vanessa scolds.
"What? We don't know who she is. She's full of secrets. Maybe even lies. And where the hell are we exactly?"
"Hunter!" Ryker barks.
Hurt crosses Julieta's face. She quietly says, "No, I'm not someone else. And I may have secrets, but I'm not a liar."
"Are we even in Belize still?"
"Yes. We're right on the line. The property backs up to Guatemala. It's why I'm not worried about crossing the border."
I throw my hands in the air and bark, "Why didn't you just tell us that?"
Her face crumples. "I'm... I'm sorry. I don't know how to explain this situation. I'm used to not disclosing things, so I don't get killed. I... I just…"
Ryker scowls at me. "You don't have to apologize to him. Ignore him."
She turns to him. "I haven't lied."
"No. But you haven't told me a lot, have you?"
"Please don't be upset with me," she whispers.
He clenches his jaw then turns and shoots daggers at me.
Miguel growls in Spanish, and I turn.
Oh shit. He's talking to me.
He puts the knife down and practically flies across the counter and points in my face. "Mostrarle respeto."
I hold up my hands, regretting that I haven't removed my gun from my bag and that I set it on the table when I came in. "What's he saying?"
