Page 40 of When Lies Unfold
His jaw tenses, his gaze turning so arctic goose bumps rise over my skin. “But don’t for a second think you’re not gonna be watched at all times while you’re with her. One step outta line—one mistake with Alma—and I won’t hesitate to end you.”
I purposely ignore his threats as I protest, “But I don’t know anything about children.”
Those dark brows lift a fraction. “Just like you’re a cleaner and don’t know anythin’ about stitchin’ up a knife wound?”
Shit.
At my silence, a faint, satisfied smirk tugs at his mouth. “That’s what I thought.”
He glances at the watch on his wrist. “I’ve gotta go, but Luis’ll show you where you’ll be stayin’.”
I sputter, “But I have a home! And all my things are there and?—”
“They’ll be delivered here.” He stalks toward the door and pulls it open. Gordo stands there, prepared to do his evil master’s bidding. “Get Miss Arias’s shit sent here.”
I’m left dumbfounded when Santiago breezes out the door before he abruptly spins back around. His intense study of me is unnerving while he delivers another threat. “Don’t make me regret not pullin’ that trigger.”
He and Gordo stride off. With feet that feel as though they’re trapped in wet concrete, I forcibly move toward the door and cautiously peek down the hall in the direction Santiago and Gordo disappeared in.
What the fuck just happened?
With Gordo at his side, Santiago stands at the end of the hallway, speaking quietly with a younger man who listens intently.
As if sensing my perusal, they glance my way. I attempt a casual stance and lean my hip against the doorway, only to wince and immediately straighten. I forgot about that tender spot where a bruise has likely taken up residence after catching the desk’s edge.
Santiago turns and takes two steps, then spins back around and mutters something else to the man. The man nods and glances my way yet again.
Evidently confident his bidding will be carried out, Santiago strolls away with Gordo following him, his large form mostly blocking Santiago from view as they exit.
The other man—Luis, I suppose—approaches where I linger at the doorway. I would guess he’s in his early thirties but is in physically impeccable condition. His massive biceps stretch the black polo he’s wearing while his black slacks mold to his tree-trunk-like thighs.
Wariness mingles with distrust in his features. “Boss said to show you to your room.”
“Right.” With a resigned sigh, I glance down at myself. “I don’t suppose there’s a chance this room will have any extra women’s clothing, will it?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” His reply is so curt it almost sounds robotic, and I bite back a snarky response. If I have to play nice so I can get out of these clothes that have that asshole’s blood soaked into them, then so be it.
“Thank you.”
Surprise flickers in his eyes at my words, but he just tips his head in the opposite direction Santiago went in. “Come with me.”
17
SANTIAGO
“With all due respect”—Gordo starts, and I know exactly what he’s about to say before he says it—“what the fuck are you doin’ with her?”
If it were anybody else questionin’ me, they’d already have some loose teeth and be gaspin’ from a throat punch—at the very least. Gordo and I go way back, which is the only reason I’m givin’ him so much leniency.
He mans the wheel with just the two of us in the SUV as we head down the highway. If I hadn’t already planned this—to double-check on operations just over the border—I would’ve stuck around at the house. I would’ve shown Miss Arias where she’d be sleepin’ from now on and gone over all the rules.
As it is, I know Luis’ll get the job done. He’s not one to be swayed by any woman, no matter how ballsy or beautiful. He’s been with me for quite a while, so I’m privy to his weaknesses. Hell, for that matter, I’m aware of all my men’s weaknesses.
If I have somebody workin’ for me, I need to know their risk profile. My men, the ones who’ve been with me the longest, have the lowest risk profile. With good reason.
Gordo continues, unmistakable impatience threaded in his voice. “Look, I don’t make it a habit of questionin’ your judgment?—”
“Then don’t,” comes my sharp reply. But, of course, he keeps goin’.