Page 39 of Liar
“You remind me of myself at your age. Full of promise. Ambitious. Dare I say talented. You’re a beautiful woman. That alone will get you noticed. But if you succeed and become part of the Academy, your talent will also draw interest.”
“Attention is what we performers want.”
“Attention. Not interest. Not the kind of interest a cartel boss will shower you with.”
I sigh. “Thank you for the warning. But I’m already well-aware of what Ignacio is capable of.”
She shakes her head. “He’s not the one I’m most worried about.”
Does she mean Hayden?
“That one couldn’t stand the way your partner was holding you. Ordered the musicians to stop. Wouldn’t even allow them to finish their song.”
“Excuse me?”
“That one is far too unscrupulous to care that you’re young.”
I snort. “Trust me. He’s noticed but doesn’t care.”
“Perhaps your partner thinks he does, and that’s why he ran off.” Her expression softens. “Just be careful.”
I offer her a weak smile, then ever so casually, glance around the yacht. I avoid Ignacio like I avoid a glass of unfiltered water. The consequences of my bumping into him will be equally unpleasant. As for Hayden ... wait. Is that Diego? My jaw drops as I spy my brother moving across the deck toward the exit, his arm around Marifer’s waist.
He’s leaving without me.
He’s leaving with her?
“I look forward to the Salsa cabaret. A double nine and a ten? It’ll be spectacular if you can pull it off,” la señora says. “If you’ll excuse me. With no music, it’s best if I send the dancers home.”
“Thank you for the encouragement and advice.” It’s a weak farewell, at best. Not that I believe Hayden stopped the band because of me. I’d pulled on my most flattering dress and brushed my hair to a fine shine before lingering in my doorway before. There was no missing me—he chose to ignore me. Him, taking an interest in me in such a public way?
She’s mistaken.
I watch Señora Rivera push her way toward the cluster of dancers milling about middeck and decide to take her advice and leave. Instead of crossing the crowded deck behind her, I take the quickest way to the exit, hugging the railing and following the pool deck around the yacht’s bow.
Bad decision, I think, as I’m forced to stop time after time to unsnag my heel from the rotted wood. I’m standing near the pool, cursing beneath my breath and attempting to do just that, when I feel two hands on my back.
“Fucking bitch.”
I’m shoved hard from behind and knocked off-balance. Arms flailing, I pitch sideways into the pool.
El Calaca’s sneer is the last thing I see as I go under.
The water is warm, but my cheeks are scorching hot. Emotions run rampant through me. Fear. Embarrassment. Anger. I pray I can make it off the yacht without revealing any of them. I hold my breath and tread lightly underwater, wondering if he’ll be gone if I were to surface. Deciding I better not chance it, I pivot my body then swim across the pool toward the side nearest the exit.
It takes what seems like forever. I come up for air a few times to ascertain if I’m headed in the right direction.
If only I could stay underwater and die of embarrassment without anyone bearing witness to it.
By the time I reach the side of the pool, I’m mentally exhausted. It’s a pool party, I remind myself. No one will think it odd that I took a swim.
My head breaks the surface, and everything seems to happen at once.
Two men surface beside me. I immediately recognize Javier and another Lobo less than three feet away.
A loud thud brings my attention toward the deck, as the body of an unconscious man is dropped right before me.
Two perfectly polished dress shoes appear beside him. My startled gaze travels upward, over crisp linen slacks and a sheer, button-down shirt, to the man dressed more for a fancy outdoor luncheon when everyone around him is half-assed naked.
