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“And you know that I prefer honesty.” His upper lip quirks. Is he shocked by how easily I cop to the ruse? He shouldn’t be. At least someone is fighting for Franco. In a twisted irony, I am his mother, if not in name, then in spirit.
“You have some balls promising that you’ll belong to me alone. I’m sure you also realize that I know you’ve been around far more men than you’ve led on,” he says, but there’s an odd dip in his inflection. What he’s saying should be true, but for some reason, he doesn’t believe it. “Braulio was just the latest in your string of rich, powerful men, chica.”
I could deny it, but something I can’t name won’t let me. “You felt me for yourself. Did I feel like a woman who’s had a stream of men before you?”
He frowns, but I recognize that anger isn’t the source. He can hear the truth in my voice, and it doesn’t quite square with the woman I should be. Does it please some small part of me to have fooled him? Yes, but I’m not brazen enough to believe it will last. Sooner or later, he’ll turn the tables, and I can’t let this round of our game get that far.
“You had a tight pussy, I’ll give you that,” he says in a voice devoid of emotion. “But I don’t tolerate being lied to. You should be punished.”
I’ve heard those words before—several variations of them, in fact.I’ll hurt you. You’ll be sorry for that. I will kill you, Lupita. Do you hear me? Kill you.
But his voice… It didn’t contain the malice I’m used to hearing. I feel my belly flip, but not in a way that signals terror. As my gaze settles on those thick hands, a fleeting thought crosses my mind—how would it feel to have those digits inside me while he murmurs that phrase into my ear?Punished.
I shake my head to clear it, and my heart is racing ten times faster. Jaguar is no longer my sole focus. Only Francisco.
“If you learned who I am, then you know how desperately I needed you to stop that plane.”
“You mean this plane?” He reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and withdraws a crisp stack of small squares which he lays out on the coffee table. Photographs. In one, I recognize a familiar, precious face, and I lunge for it.
“Franco…” He looks so sad. So tired, but clean, at least. There are no fresh bruises from what I can tell. Not like that day just a couple months ago when he came home from school, and Tiena had the nerve to feign that nothing was wrong.
It’s just a mark, Pita. Why do you have your panties all in a bunch?
A mark. She actually said that despite acknowledging the hell we both grew up in. Bruises like that are never accidental.
Even in the dim lighting, I can tell that one on Franco’s face has yet to truly fade. God only knows what Braulio’s been doing to him since he cut me off—though this photo was taken at night, obscuring most of his body. The area around him looks like… A tarmac?
The series of pictures beside it paints a clearer view. Braulio did send Franco on a plane, but Jaguar had someone there for takeoff and the landing, it seems. They didn’t go as far as I feared. California. He’s still in the country.
And Jaguar’s photographer apparently took a snapshot of the exact safe house he’s being kept in.
One figure’s glaring disappearance, however, stands out.
“I don’t see Braulio.” I look up to find Jaguar watching me, his expression unreadable.
“That’s because he’s still in the city,” he finally says. I get the sense he was gauging my reaction carefully. Another test. Did I pass? I can’t tell. “It seems he had an urgent matter come up overnight that required his attention. He’ll be busy for a few days, at least.”
But, for the time being, Franco is safe in another state, far away from him. Yet, I get the sense this change of fate isn’t by coincidence. The truth bites into me slowly, and I feel my eyes widen.
“You upheld our bargain,” I croak.
“I always pay my debts,” he replies, folding his hands over his lap. “But being lied to? That was not a part of our deal. You offered me your soul, after all.”
“I offered youme,” I say. “You weren’t interested.”
He sits forward, and my breath catches. I have that quicksand feeling again. One wrong move, and I’ll go under.
“Now, when did I say that?” He looks me over, as if noting for the first time that I’m still wearing the dress from last night. My hair is a mess, my makeup gone, and eyes bloodshot. My saving grace, I suppose, is that I don’t look like a woman who plays the game. The real Tiena would be in another man’s bed by now, safely secured with whatever she desired. She was resourceful like that, more than I ever was.
“I prefer to do business over dinner,” he says finally, leaning back into the couch. “Be ready at seven. Make yourself presentable. If you even think about showing up late or playing the tricks your kind like to play, you will regret it.” He stands and heads for the door. In the next moment, he stops, his head inclined, his face turned away from me. “Oh, and one more thing… You were on the phone with someone when I came in. Who?”
Despite my naiveté, I recognize another test that goes beyond simple word games. Those were petty fun. This is life or death—a primed trap with metal teeth waiting to snap shut over a tender limb.
My first instinct is to lie. At the last moment, I rethink it. Pedro is the most important person in the world to me besides Franco. I won’t betray him.
But I promised Jaguar my loyalty.
“A friend,” I say carefully. “Someone who is no threat to you. He’s helped me get what I needed but nothing else.”
