Page 16 of Liar
Hardworking. Brains. Determination. My brother and I have it in spades. When I turned fifteen, I bought the González sisters’lavandería, where I began working when I turned thirteen. The sisters are elderly and have no family but love me like a granddaughter. Part of my salary went toward the purchase price of the business and the remaining balance I’m paying off with a percentage of the profits. If business is bad, I don’t pay. Except the opposite’s true—business is booming. My profit margins have increased by fifty-two percent. Now life has become less about struggling to keep up and more about getting ahead.
Diego will destroy everything if he goes through with this senselessness.
“You okay?” a guard asks.
I narrow eyes at him then spin and stalk off.
The compound used to belong to the Pitón Salvaje when they had more of a foothold in Loreto. Three years ago, Arturo’s Cobras overtook the Hole and ran them out of town. It’s ironic really, because years before, the Pitón Salvaje assumed control of this place in a similar way. Cartels filtering in and driving others out, it’s a constant volley for control. And claiming the nicest digs in town is the ultimate showcase of power. I don’t recall how the Cobras infiltrated the Hole. But I do remember rumors about how the Pitón Salvaje broke inside the compound—through flimsy, cheap locks.
With a quick glance over my shoulder, I reach the end of the fence and turn the corner. Three-quarters of the way along the barrier and I find what I’m searching for. A heavily padlocked gate, with old, weathered locks.
I pluck a flower barrette from my hair and get to work.
The fence is a few yards from the side of the building. If I can make it across the compound without detection, there should be a side exit. The Lobos moved in less than forty-eight hours ago. If the lock issue hasn’t been addressed, I’m hoping the door won’t be problematic either.
It takes me less than a minute to pick the lock.
A quick glance toward the men guarding the main gate and then I steal across the grounds. I keep to the shadows, hugging the side of the building as I hurry deeper into the yard. I locate the door midway—just as I’d hoped, it’s been broken, patched, and has seen better days. Once inside, I navigate down a long hallway flanked by closed doors. No one seems to be in this part of the building though up ahead I can hear voices.
Again, I curse Diego. How am I going to catch his attention without drawing attention to myself? I don’t have a plan. And because of him, I don’t have a choice but to stop him before he ruins everything. No good can come from him pledging loyalty to a cartel.
I slow as I reach the end of the hallway then stop dead in my tracks as a familiar voice begins speaking.
Ignacio.
Dios, one more man to avoid.
“I’ll make us rich,” he boasts. I roll my eyes because even the slowest of pendejos knows the subtext to what he’s saying,I’ll make myself rich while you grovel and sweat. I peer into the large common area just in time to see him raise his glass in toast. A few men do the same but most of the others gathered around the long, wide boardroom-style table do not.
Ignacio continues, seemingly impervious to the lackluster support. “Cheers to easy money and easy women.”
I feel the nausea rise in my throat.
He waves to a group of women clustered by the far wall. They immediately approach, hips swaying, fake smiles bright, and eyes only for the men with raised glasses. Causing a domino effect, as more men join in on the action and raise their glasses.
Seriously? Is that all it took? It’s sickening. But even more disturbing is the fact that many of these girls were lured in by the false promise of a better life, yet here they are, at Ignacio’s beck and call.
My gaze falls on the woman seated across from him, María Fernanda López. If looks could kill that pig Ignacio would be spinning in circles on a spit right now. Marifer’s glaring daggers at him. A smart woman would bide her time until the pig gets himself served on that golden platter he’s been boasting about. Bribes of money and women will only get him so far.
But Marifer is far from being the better choice. Genuine loyalty is earned not bought.
I’d normally cheer on a powerful woman. Except I’ve clung to the suspicion far too long that Marifer ordered the shootings the day my parents died. The Z22 boss has a kill count longer than her waist-length, brown hair and an ego larger than her doctored breasts.
Diego might believe Arturo is responsible, but I need to hear why he thinks so before I’ll let go of my intense dislike of her.
I skim my eyes across the crowd in search of my brother. He’s standing against a wall across from me and toward the head of the table. His attention is directed on the man seated there.
Hayden ... with one of Ignacio’s women in his lap.
Jealousy isn’t a familiar emotion. It’s as foreign a concept as eating Tex-Mex or Los Angeles’s version of the enchilada. It’s not something I’ve experienced or believe I can stomach. But watching the beautiful woman push her breasts in his face as she feeds the Bastard pieces of steak from his plate infuriates me.
As does the fact that he’s allowing this.
He’s dressed in a black suit and a white shirt with its buttons undone. Muscled chest on display. A casual yet powerful aura about him. That cocky grin on his lips. And it’s directed ather, when in my mind, his smiles have only been for me.
He doesn’t deserve the time I’ve spent thinking about him.
“To getting everything we want,” Marifer begins her toast. I tune her out, and while everyone is sufficiently distracted, enter the room. The problem is, my brother is also distracted and laughing with the man next to him.
