That sounds like what her brother has been doing.Maybe he’s rubbing off on me.With Belinda’s life on the line, I’m ready to do just about anything.Vinnie feels the same.And Hawk clearly felt that way about me.
I tip my head.“When did you get so good at reading me?”
She smiles without showing teeth.“I’ve been practicing on Vinnie.”
“That sounds exhausting,” I say.
“It is,” she says.“We’ll call parents.We’ll scan plates.We’ll tear the city apart.But we’ll do it together.You hear me?”
I nod and follow her back inside.
Vinnie’s phone dings.He glances down.“Private investigator in San Antonio owes me a favor,” he says.“He can pull neighborhood cams around Chef’s block.May catch a face, a plate, a timing hit.”
“Do it,” Raven says.
I open my mouth to say we should call the hospitals again—just in case—and for no reason at all, my mind pulls a ripcord I didn’t touch.Images blur, and time hurtles backward.
* * *
“Mr.Agudelo,”the doctor begins, “Daniela has been diagnosed with chlamydia.It’s a sexually transmitted infection but treatable with antibiotics, which I’m going to prescribe now.”
His face hardens, but he nods, giving nothing away.“Thank you, Doctor, for your prompt attention to my daughter’s health.”He turns to me.“Are you okay,querida?”
Right.Like he cares.He’s never called mequeridain my life.
“I’m uncomfortable but otherwise I feel fine,” I say without emotion.
“Good, good.”He smiles.
What a fake.
The doctor clears her throat.“I’ve prescribed a week-long course for Daniela.She’ll need to come back in a month’s time for a follow-up.”
My father nods, his expression unreadable.“All right,” he says, maintaining his calm façade.“Will that be all, Doctor?”
The doctor looks at me and then back at my father.“Yes, that will be all.Please ensure she takes the medication consistently and completes the course.”
The car ride home is silent.The tension is palpable, like a storm cloud ready to burst, except my father is the storm cloud.I sit in the back seat and watch the passing buildings outside.I’m terrified.Terrified of my father’s reaction.Terrified of the punishment that will surely come.
As we pull into our driveway, my father finally speaks.“Go to your room.”
His voice is cold, devoid of any emotion.I nod, clambering out of the car and rushing inside the house.I rush past the kitchen, ignoring the curious glances of our housekeeper.
I retreat to the safety of my room, closing the door softly behind me.I collapse onto my bed, a wave of exhaustion washing over me.I want to cry, to scream, to let out all the anger and sadness.
But I don’t.
My father will come to me.
He will punish me for this, even though it’s the fault of one of his business associates.
My father will come.
It’s only a matter of when.
The minutes tick by, each one agonizingly slow, each one intensifying the dread coiling in my stomach.I feel like a lamb waiting for slaughter, as if I’m suspended on the precipice of a cliff, awaiting the push that will send me spiraling into the abyss below.
A knock on the door makes me jump, my heart pounding.I don’t respond.Maybe if I stay silent, he’ll go away.
