Page 114 of Liar
He can watch me on his phone? And track my location?
“Even when you’re angry, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever set eyes on.”
If Javier weren’t standing here, I’d give him something beautiful to look at. Even with Javier intently watching our exchange, I might just flip Hayden the bird.
“Give that pup something to do besides eye-fuck you. Have him pull up Diego’s location and see for yourself.”
“He’s not—”
A noise on Hayden’s end interrupts me.
“Got to go. See you soon, Luciana.”
I look at the camera and mouth the word “goodbye.”
Javier spins around, his startled gaze on the camera.
“Exactly. He’s been watching us ... me.”
“He leaves no stone unturned when it comes to you, you realize that?”
“I married a manipulative control freak, didn’t I?”
“I don’t think controlling you is what motivated him. No other man had a chance, I get that now.”
I ignore his comment. My relationship with Hayden is complicated enough without trying to fit the pieces of our past together. “Hayden tells me we can track Diego through the app on our phones,” I inform Javier, thrusting my phone at him. “Can you show me how to access it?”
Javier thumbs open the app then enters the settings feature. Seconds later, he exclaims, “Found your brother. Look.”
Sure enough, I find a red dot on a satellite-fed map.
“Wonder what he’s doing at the US border?”
I bite my lip. Because clearly, information about that tunnel is under tight lock and key. “Near Tijuana?”
Javier nods. “North of it. We can call and see if he moves.”
Diego doesn’t pick up, yet the red dot remains stagnant.
“Some apps don’t work of the phone is off. Maybe he’s turned his off.”
Possibly. Didn’t Diego mention a shipment of dynamite arriving? “Maybe he can’t hear his phone?”
I bite my lip, not knowing what to do.
“Give it a few days,” Javier reassures me. “Things tend to work themselves out.”
“Yes.” I think of my parents’ deaths, of Diego’s desire to avenge them, of my falling in love with a man who epitomizes everything I didn’t want. I draw in a breath then softly add, “But not always in the way you expect.”
35
It’s just past midnight when my phone rings. I roll to my side, disoriented. For a few seconds, I forget I’m sleeping in my twin-size bed and home in my casita. I hurry to answer it, assuming it’s one of two men.
How wrong I am.
“Luciana?” a familiar voice greets me, his tone gruff like he smoked a pack of hand-rolled cigarettes, one after the other.
“Eduardo?”
