Page 33 of Reckless Woman

Font Size:

Page 33 of Reckless Woman

“No.” Her answer is final, leaving no room for contradiction.

Instinct.She’s lying.

She reaches across the table to cover my hand again. “I’ve never heard of him, but I’m glad he’s dead. If he wasn’t, I would have tracked him down myself. Did Santiago—?”

I shake my head. “Petrov died in jail. Probably on his orders. He hurt Eve years ago, and your uncle isn’t one for letting go of stuff like that without serious consequences.”

“Did he…hurt you badly?”

“Yes.”

There’s another flare. It’s briefer this time, but just as revealing. And then she’s nodding, like she fully expected me to say this.

Nothing weird there, Anna. Human traffickers aren’t known for their civility and kindness.

“Hijueputa.” Fuck,she curses, pulling a vibrating iPhone out of her back pocket. She hovers it under the table, just out of sight, and flicks the home screen up.

“How the hell did you manage to smuggle that in?” I hiss.

“Shush, I need to read this.”

Intrigued, I lean across the table and catch a glimpse of a three-digit number before she’s yanking it out of view.

154

“What’s that?” I ask, sinking back down into my chair.

“The code to the safety vault here,” she says, without missing a beat. “I’m organizing a heist. Wanna join?”

More lies.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Think you can keep it a secret?”

“I’ll keep yours, if you keep mine.”

“Always,parcera.” She forces another grin. Rising to her feet, she pockets the iPhone. “What time is that stupid group session again?”

I glance at the clock on the wall, not bothering to check the contempt. She doesn’t belong here, and she never will. She takes her guidance these days from her uncle, a man devoid of altruism.

“Twenty minutes.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Hey, where are you going?” I call out, but she’s already left the cafeteria.

* * *

My departure timecomes and goes uneventfully.

Too uneventfully…

In fact, it’s non-existent.

I’m still sitting in the reception area with my bag packed and my sunglasses perched on top of my head like an insult, staring out at a whole lot of sunshine and nothing.

No message.




Top Books !
More Top Books

Treanding Books !
More Treanding Books