The bells and dings and laughter and chatter around us faded into a dull hum. I was staring at the location again, and nothing had changed.
“She… She went to BU in Cove City to transfer. She was supposed to get a room for the night, but she told me she was coming home when we last texted. Her phone is going to voicemail now, the messages aren’t sending, and I can’t get a hold of her.”
A cold fist clenched around my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. Panic clawed at my throat, a silent scream trapped inside. Every instinct yelled at me to do something, but Iwas frozen, paralyzed by fear and uncertainty. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and the vibrant colors of the casino faded into a dull, blurry haze. This couldn’t be happening.
What if she’s hurt? What the fuck happened? Where is my sister?
“Tunan,” Don called out, all of us turning our attention to him as if he’d called us.
Tunan was doing that thing he did when he ran his hand down his waves, making my heart fall to the pits of my shoes.
“What do you know?” Don asked, confusing me because, as far as I knew, Tunan didn’t know my sister beyond their meeting after he’d fucked me into a sleep coma.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I might know where we can find her.”
That didn’t make any sense—not even a little. Tunan knowing Glee’s whereabouts was puzzling, but I didn’t care about the how. I wanted answers on where she was. Pushing down the urge to slap Tunan until he told me what I wanted to know, I steadied my breathing and did what the rest of the mob wives would have done—let Don handle it.
Chapter 9
Solana Damita Ledesma
I’d been struck breathless. As I struggled to take my next breath, it felt like I’d been punched in the chest. Along with my throat, my skin, my bones, and my eyes—all felt raw. It was as if I’d been dragged through the pits of hell, and the trail was never-ending. Except there was no devil. There was no dragging. There was no fire. Well, therewasfire in the dark eyes of the man I’d come to obsess over.
Popping sounded in my ears, and puffs of air fluttered my nostrils. I didn’t know how long we’d been driving, because I’d been in my head, trying to make sense of it all. The date. The drugs. The shootings. The child. The woman. The plane. The mail. Then, I was removed from the home for the second time in twenty-four hours and stuffed into the car. And like yesterday, Shio hadn’t said a word to me.
The truck came to a screeching halt, jerking my body forward. My heart leaped in my chest, pounding against my rib cage. My hands were shaking, my feet were bare, and I was wounded in pride. I shook my head and grabbed Shio’s arm as he put the truck in park.
“Shio. ¡No era mío! Te lo juro. No era mío. ¡Jamás haría eso! ¡Jamás! ¡Jamás podría! ¡Shio! ¡Por favor, mírame! (Shio. It wasn’t mine! I swear to you. It wasn’t mine. I would never do that! I would never! I could never! Shio! Please look at me!)”
Shio, instead, got out of the truck, leaving it running. With my eyes wide, I glanced around. I wasn’t familiar with this neighborhood. It was suburban, but instead of homes like those in Shio’s area, these were casas adosades (townhouses). All the yards were neatly manicured, and the only other person outside—from what I could see—was an older gentleman across the street, checking his mailbox.
Mail. Less than an hour ago, Shio’s mailman had knocked on the door. Nel was dead asleep, so I answered and took the mail. The baby was still sleeping, so I walked it to his office. Instead of leaving the pile of mail there, I began reading the names. Why Uriah was receiving mail at Shio’s residence was baffling to me and stirred something in my chest.
The summer air brushed my side and shook me from my thoughts. The passenger door had opened. Shio, in all his glory, stood. He’d changed. A hoodie—black. But the look in his eyes hadn’t. Scary and very unsure.
He took a step back, instructing me without a word. With my head bowed, I stepped out of the car, barefoot, feeling the warm concrete beneath my feet. Saliva flooded my mouth at the thought of the bag of cocaine Bahati had found in the baby’s hands. I’d wished I had grabbed it, even though I had no idea what Shio was about to do to me.
He trudged behind me as I trekked up the sidewalk toward the front door. The attached houses on the street looked identical, but porch décor and flowerbeds gave each one its own personality. Shio’s arm brushed my shoulder as he reached around me and twisted the front door’s doorknob.I stepped inside, enamored by the décor. No matter how this place looked or smelled, I didn’t want to be here, especially if Shio wasn’t staying with me. From the urgency to get here, I knew he wasn’t.
Turning on my feet, I faced Shio. I hadn’t gotten the chance to plead my case when my feet were dangling in the air, and I was being carried out over his shoulder. I could feel his face on the side of my bottom with each thump of his steps. I knew better than to fight as I watched the world around me upside down. He descended a set of stairs, which made my stomach sour. We were in a basement—that much I knew because I’d frequented one multiple times per week to work out with this man.
He flipped me back over, setting me on my feet. The carpet felt comforting, a stark contrast to the hot concrete outside. Towering over me, Shio swiped his nose with his thumb, something he seemed to do when he was upset. My eyes pleaded, begging him to hear me out. His were fiery hot; the uncertainty just moments ago, gone. I knew in that moment that there was nothing I could say or do to make him believe me. Still, I had to try.
Reaching up, I palmed his face, my panties flooding as our skin connected, even though arousal was the last thing my body should have been feeling.
“Shio. Por favor?—”
“Solana, baby…”
My heart sped, and my eyes widened. “¿Si?”
He grabbed my arms, but not in a way that would hurt me. Holding them up, he squeezed them, then released the pressure before placing my wrist to the side of his face. With his eyes lowered, he took a long sniff of my skin and closed his eyes. My chest was going haywire. It was nearly impossible for me to stay still.
“Yo no hice eso. No te haría daño... a tu...(I did not do that. I wouldn’t hurt your... your...)
He removed my wrist from his nostrils but kept them in his hand, and I understood now that it was to stop me from touching him.
“My what? My what, Solana? I want to hear you say it. Dilo. (Say it.)”
