Page 66 of Pretty Hostage


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“Adrián is the scariest motherfucker in the city, but I’m one of the biggest. I was taunted into trying to humiliate Adrián, and I couldn’t back down once the challenge was issued. Not without losing face and weakening my reputation. My mom needed me to protect her, and I couldn’t risk her by letting anyone think I couldn’t stand up for myself.”

“She lived here with you?” I asked when he paused to glower at the dilapidated building again, as though he wished he could destroy it with his fists.

“Yeah.” He spat the confirmation. “But not after that night. I went to steal from Adrián at his club, even though I knew that walking into his territory and insulting him would end with me dead if he caught me. Once my mom’s safety was on the line, I had to risk it.

“Of course, he did catch me. Adrián commands a small army of ruthless killers, and he’s not stupid enough to sit around undefended. I managed to take down five of his best men before I got knifed.”

My fingers tightened around his palm, an automatic reflex to the idea of Mateo being gravely injured.

He continued stroking my wrist, and I wasn’t sure which of us was soothing the other anymore.

“Adrián could have killed me right then and there,” he continued, “but he hired me instead. He handed me a fat roll of cash, and I managed to stay on my feet long enough to come back here and pick up my mom. We left that night and never looked back.”

“Where is she now?” I asked, knowing Mateo wouldn’t have left her unprotected. Not after everything he’d just told me. His affection for her had been obvious ever since I’d woken up in his house and he cooked breakfast for me that first morning. He’d told me how she taught him to cook, how he’d helped her with chores while growing up in this rotting apartment.

He might hate where he came from, but he loved her.

“I bought her a house in Santa Monica.” His chest swelled with pride when he told me how he provided for her. “Now, she lives in the comfort she deserves.”

“Do you want to show me?” I realized that it would be important to him if I could see the safe home he’d procured for her, especially after showing me this decaying place where his demons lived.

He hesitated, fresh tension gripping his brawny frame.

“I’d like to see the house you bought for her,” I pressed gently. “You’ve shown me the place where you grew up, but this isn’t context that helps me understand who you are. It tells me where you came from, but not who you are.”

He gave my hand a little squeeze before reluctantly releasing me, so he could put the car in gear. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll take you to meet my mom.”

Something about the prospect of our meeting troubled him, but he didn’t offer further insight.

We were both so preoccupied with the intensity of Mateo’s confessions that neither of us noticed when a burgundy SUV followed the Porsche out of the neighborhood, ghosts from his past trailing after us.Chapter 18MateoAs we drove away from old nightmares in Boyle Heights, I struggled to break free of the toxic emotions that clouded my thought processes. I’d planned to share just enough of my past so that Sofia could understand that my world was about survival, not cruelty. It still wasn’t a pretty place, but my motivations might make me less of a monster in her eyes.

But as soon as we’d driven into the neighborhood, the ugly emotions that had ruled me when I lived in that hell had surfaced from where I’d buried them deep. My formative years had been fueled by hunger, hatred, and resentment of anyone who had more than I did. Even when I’d built my body to be bigger and stronger than anyone I knew, I’d still been pathetically weak.

The gang had locked me within its confines from an early age, preying on my fears for my mom to trap me in a cage of guilt and duty masquerading as safety and brotherhood.

Adrián had freed me from all that. As long as I watched his back, he paid me mind-boggling amounts of money. When I wasn’t on the clock, my life was my own, with no obligations to anyone else. I could do whatever I wanted with my time, buy whatever pleased me with my newfound wealth.

And I could finally keep my mom safe. I would never have to be scared that I might come home to find her broken and bleeding on the floor.

I would never fail her again.

Sofia was quiet while we drove to Santa Monica, but I didn’t sense any judgment or disgust in her silence. When I’d started losing my shit while parked out front of my childhood home, she’d remained calm and reached for me. Offering me comfort.

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