Adrenaline poured through her veins, and she spun, stripping free from the terrycloth in his grip and racing toward the door, naked.
“This is the first time I’ve heard any mention of Hector’s death since I’ve been here.” He prowled after her, all long legs and stony determination. “You’re going to tell me everything.”
“I swear I don’t know anything about Hector.”
He caught her at the door, slamming his hand against it and preventing it from opening. “How does his death involve you?”
“They’re using me as bait.”
“For Hector’s killer?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I. Don’t. Know.” She yanked on the door handle, frantic to get on the other side, where there were cameras, where he wouldn’t interrogate her and force her to talk. “Let me out.”
“Do you know who killed Hector La Rocha?”
“No one knows. It could’ve been an inside job by one of the inmates. Probably an attack by the González cartel or one of the enemy gangs in the prison. I grew up in that city, and everyone wanted him dead.”
He zoomed in on that last part like a laser beam. “You grew up in Ciudad Hueca?”
Her stomach dropped. She’d said too much. “It’s a big city. Lots of people have lived there.”
“More specifically, you and Vera Gomez.” He bent at the waist, putting his face in hers. “What is your relationship with her?”
Heavy iron seemed to clog her ears, her blood running rabidly through her system, chilling her insides with fear. A cold sweat formed on her skin. Her lungs struggled for air as a vicious quiver overtook her body. She shook so violently she rattled the door at her back.
“I can’t…” She gulped for breath, unable to maintain a whisper. “Please, you don’t know what you’re asking.”
The steely intimidation in his expression faded, replaced with a storm of turmoil and something else.
“It’s okay.” He hooked his arm around her and pulled her against him, pressing his lips to her head. “Shh. Easy. Breathe with me.”
She couldn’t stop trembling, wrestling with the need to tell him everything. It was right there, all of it, twisting up her tongue. But she fought it. She had to. It wasn’t just her life she was risking.
Maybe tomorrow. With a clear head and full night’s sleep, maybe she could find a way to tell him who she was.
He read the decision in her eyes and released a slow breath. “Go to bed. I’ll be in later.”
The instant he opened the door, she fled to his room like a coward.CHAPTER 19An hour later, she rolled to her side in a bed of Klondike wrappers and groaned. She shouldn’t have eaten that last ice cream bar. Or the six bars before it. But for a while, the delicious chocolate had kept her mind off the man making plans in the other room.
When he’d followed her out of the bathroom, he’d made a beeline to Tomas. After some very cozy whispering, they turned their attentions to their phones, their fingers furiously tapping out messages to whomever they were working with.
The Restrepo Cartel?
John didn’t look like a Colombian cartel gangster, and he’d denied the accusation that he worked for them. But he knew the cartel. The mere mention of them had put him on immediate guard. In a blink, he’d gone from patient and affectionate to demanding and all business.
For a few minutes, she’d spied on him and Tomas from the bedroom, unable to hear their hushed conversation. When her snooping got the best of her, she stormed in and tried to join the discussion. The fuckers clammed up, moved to the bathroom, and locked the damn door.
They didn’t trust her, and why should they? If she knew their plan, she could run straight to Marco with it.
What she’d witnessed the night she met them made sense now. The bromance hug they’d shared in the bathroom, the camera removed from the ceiling, the feeling that they weren’t who they claimed to be… Whatever reason they were here, they were in it together, and it was all related to Hector’s killer.
If they’d come to finish off Hector’s sons, she sure as hell wouldn’t stand in their way. At the same time, she didn’t want to become an unintended casualty of war. Maybe John wouldn’t throw her on a grenade to save his mission. But if forced to choose between his goal and hers, he wouldn’t pick her. He didn’t even know her.
She couldn’t trust him. Not with her life or that of the one person she’d spent three years protecting.
With a heavy heart, she cleaned up the ice cream wrappers and waited for him to come out.
And waited.
And waited.
Eventually, she fell into a restless sleep.
The next morning, she opened her eyes to an empty room. The mattress lay untouched beside her. He never came to bed?
Her heart plunged to her stomach.
You’re leaving in a few days.