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I felt raw. Exposed. I didn’t know why.
Then I was crying again. Or had I stopped? Had I been continuously crying this whole time? Killing and crying? That was kinda badass… or wasn’t it?
Everything was starting to swim around me again.
I didn’t know what was going on.
Until Raize’s voice was soft. “You asked how I knew Estrada?”
The ground was starting to settle, a little.
I heard more, “The sister he mentioned? I know her because she’s mine, too.”
My head snapped up. What?!
26
Ash
He stepped back, standing. “She’s my half-sister—same mother. Her other half is Estrada’s father. He took my mother as a mistress—didn’t care what family she had to leave. My dad’s from Connecticut, but was living down in Oaxaca.” He paused. “He was there for the surfing, met my mom down there. Estrada’s father knew my mom. He threatened to kill me when I was eight. He did kill my dad. I grew up in foster care, went into the army, and when I could, I went in search of my mom. Met my sister for the first time. My mom knew who I was the second I showed up. Morales. He runs the Morales cartel. Estrada was considered a bastard until he just took over another cartel. No one gave a fuck to question where he came from. Morales stepped back, let his son take power in the next region—because he considered Estrada his. But Estrada wasn’t. They hate each other, but they also love each other. The two cartels are linked by blood, and no one knows except the leaders. When I showed up, I got a job for Morales. My sister grew fond of me, started joking that I was like a big brother to her. My mom freaked and sent me to Marco. I don’t know when my sister found out who I was, but at some point, she went to him. She told him, asked that I be allowed into the family.” He stepped closer, enough so I could see his eyes flash. Hard. “He sent a hit squad after me. I got out and went north to the States, as far north as I could. I needed protection, and at the right time, Roman Marakov found me. He found me. He recruited me.” He took a break. I felt the conversation shift. He grew more, just more. I didn’t know what he was before, intent? But it was more now. He knelt back down. “You gotta talk to me. I told you my shit. You tell me yours. You gave your sister’s name because why? I gotta know what storm I’m walking into with you. I can’t see the landmines if I don’t know where to look for them.”
I stared at him, overwhelmed by what he’d shared, but I couldn’t respond.
A lump filled my throat, and I felt tears threatening.
His sister was alive. I didn’t know if mine was.
“What’s your real name?” he asked.
I could not go there. I would not. “Ash.”
“Bullshit. What’s your real name?”
“Miriam.”
His eyes went flat. “What’s your real name?”
I continued, “Sandra.”
“You’re lying.”
I didn’t wait to be asked again. “Melanie.”
I stared at him. Hard. Fierce.
Again, “Suzie.”
And then, “Brooke.”
His eyes lit up, speculating. “Your sister.”
“The first girl I found out he took.”
I had a thing about names.
I saw the thoughts moving. He was connecting the dots.
He said, “Brooke. Suzie. Melanie. Miriam.”
“You missed Sandra.”
“Sandra.”
I felt like fucking cement inside. “My sister fell in love—Leo this and Leo that. All she wanted to do was talk about him. She was obsessed. Then I met him, and I hated him. Didn’t matter. Our mom died, and Brooke needed an escape. He was inside her already, got her taking drugs. Got her skipping school. She ran away. Cops never looked for her. They considered her another junkie runaway. Such a sad fucking cliche story, right?” I didn’t tell him the other times the cops were at my house. I didn’t tell him the looks I got, given the family history. Made so much sense to them, that’s what one social worker said. I wanted to scratch her eyeballs out. “But I knew where she went. You know where she went. Her name was Brooke. Then I found out the other girls he took. Suzie. Melanie. Sandra. Miriam. You came along, and I was Girl. You never asked my name.” I didn’t wait. I whispered, “I have a thing about names.”
He stared, long and hard. “Ash?”
“Ashley Cruz. I saw her missing poster once. It was old. She was taken as a kid, pretty blonde hair. Different life, but she looked like me. Doesn’t matter if he’s not the one who got her. Someone got her.”
She was another missing girl.
So many.
Too many.
Too fucking many of them.
“He’s on your list?”
“He’s the first one.”
Raize’s jaw hardened, and he stood.
The conversation ended, just like that.
