Page 71 of El Malo

Don’t freak out.

I’m freaking out.

“What happens when you touch Javier Estrada’s girl?” Javier demands again, this time his question directed at Michael.

“No, man,” Michael defends. “She was my girlfriend and—” A howl pierces the air when Javier plunges the ice pick into the side of Michael’s arm. He leaves it there and turns to glower at me.

The intensity rippling from him has my knees buckling. Angel grips me harder until I let out a yelp, but I don’t fall.

“You fucked him because you wanted to or because he forced you?” Javier demands. He knows the answer, but I remind him again.

“H-He hurt me. He held me down and…” I trail off, tears welling.

Javier’s jaw clenches and he turns to regard Michael again. “You’re a liar, you fat fuck. Do you know what I do to liars?” He yanks the ice pick out of Michael’s arm and then slams it into his thigh.

“Fuck!” Michael screams. “Stop fucking stabbing me!” Michael turns his hate-filled glare my way. “What you do to me you have to do to her,” he spits out. “I’m not the only liar around here.”

That asshole.

This goes against everything the agency taught us.

You don’t sell out your own people.

“No, Michael,” I whine.

Angel laughs from behind me, his brutal grip no doubt bruising my arms. Marco Antonio’s glare is punishing, but he makes no moves to stop him. If looks could kill, though…

“My sweet manzanita? A liar?” Javier asks, his shoulders tense.

Like a bobble head, Michael nods. “C-Check my bag. I have her passport. She’s Agent Rosa Daza with the motherfucking CIA!” The evil look of smug satisfaction he shoots my way makes me want to throw up.

Javier won’t look at me. Instead, he points to the bag. “Angel, let’s see if Michael is telling the truth.”

“Don’t fucking think about walking out of here or those big motherfuckers over there will mow you down with those AKs,” Angel hisses against my ear before releasing me.

I rub my palms up and down my biceps and bow my head. My skin feels cold. My heart is going numb. The tears that threaten to fall are barely kept at bay.

Javier loves you.

Everything will be okay.

“Holy fuck, jefe. Look at this shit,” Angel says as he tosses my passport at Javier.

The room goes deathly quiet for a moment. Then, I hear Javier’s shoes squeak across the floor until his powerful form is just inches from mine. I’m still looking down so my passport comes into view before he does.

“Who is this?” Javier demands, his voice a low, threatening growl.

“Rosa Daza. She’s dead.” I hiccup as the tears start.

When Javier doesn’t say anything, I lift my gaze to meet his. His glare is frightening. Clenched jaw. Flaring nostrils. Pupils dilated with rage. My tears leak out and race down my cheeks. His hand flinches like he wants to swipe them away, but he doesn’t. He can’t. Villains must always be villains. Even I know this.

“Dead, huh?” His words are cold.

Michael laughs scornfully, making me flinch from the sound. “She’s fucking dead all right. I killed her three and a half years ago.”

“What?” I choke out.

He sneers at me. “Six months after we were stationed here, I told them you were raped and killed by some Mexican thugs. Turns out I was a motherfucking fortune teller. Look at you now, Daza.”

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