Page 76 of Tainted Blood
He studies me for a moment before saying, “fair enough.”
“Is this place meant to be modeled on a monochrome war zone?” I glance around his office for a change of subject.
“Would you prefer it if I hung a picture of Santa Muerte on the wall, so you’d feel more at home?”
“You’ve been to Legado,” I say quietly.
“I figured I may as well benefit financially from this truce while it’s still holding. We’ve opened up our respective ports for a mutually beneficial trade deal. But something tells me you’re not here to discuss the importation of Mexican and Colombian cocaine,” he adds, catching sight of my face.
“When did you see him?”
“Yesterday.”
“How is he?”
“His usual arrogant self,” he says dryly. “The asshole had the nerve to demand a sixty-forty profit split.”
The corners of my mouth can’t help lifting as I settle into a spare chair. Edier swings into the opposite one, lifting his boots onto the desk again. He was always the older, cooler one when we were kids. Now, he’s an ice man.
“What can I do for you, Señorita Santiago?” he says.
“Señora Carrera,” I correct.
“Not for much longer, by the sounds of it.”
I drop my gaze first. “He was the boy in the snow, Edier… Ten years ago, outside the church when we stole your bodyguard’s car.”
“I know.”
I jerk my head up in surprise. “You know? Then why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs. “What difference would it have made? Before this truce, I still would have shot to kill. And I will afterward when it comes to a crashing conclusion,” he finishes, flashing his teeth at me.
“But he saved my life. Twice!”
“Bad blood sticks better than past glories.”
Damn stubborn villain. Think of the map, Thalia.
“Can I ask you a question?”
His dark eyes narrow to fixed points. “Depends. Is it personal?”
“Not this time, though I’d still like to know why you broke my sister’s heart, and why you threw a scholarship away to that art college in London. Oh, and what did my father really offer you to climb his ranks so fast?”
“Professional it is, then,” he says coldly.
We both know I’m holding my status around his neck like a noose. If I was anyone else, I’d be bleeding out by now.
“It’s about your mom in Colombia…”
“Ah. I see where this is headed.”
That’s the other thing about Edier. He has an uncanny ability of guessing your intentions before you’ve spelled them out for him.
“It’s a good idea,” he continues with a frown. “You should talk to her. She can help you come to terms with everything that’s happened.” He scribbles down a number and hands it out to me.
“Do you know how she managed to move on from her own experiences?” I ask, hesitating a fraction before taking it and folding it into my purse.