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“I’m going back to my room.” She looked me up and down, resignation in her face. “If you aren’t going to be truthful with me, I don’t see the point in continuing this conversation.”
Carla’s indifference pissed me off. “Jesus,” I breathed out. “No one can ever please you, can they?”
“I guess that goes both ways. No one will ever be as perfect as you.” She shook her head once more, clearly irritated.
I wanted to rage at her. To take her in my arms, throw her on the bed, and remind her who the fuck she belonged to. And I knew she’d let me. Carla would let me slide my tongue into her tight pussy and make her scream my name as she barreled into orgasm.
And then, she’d hate me for it.
“Let’s just talk about this,” I implored. “It’s been a long night, emotions are running high…We don’t need to take jabs at each other.”
Carla could be emotional, but she was also someone who listened to reason. Tonight had been a lot. Both of us had done things wrong, but I believed we could get past it. “We can talk, and we can start fresh.”
I expected her to agree. But once more, Carla surprised me. She shook her head, a sad look overtaking her features.
“You can tell your father that I’m not a problem.” Her voice was sad as she spoke, and the sound cut through me nearly as deep as her screams had. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Carla…” Ingrid told me that she’d told Carla about the deal my father and I had struck. I’d hoped that Carla would be angrier with me for other things and ignore that part of it.
But her sad blue eyes told me a different story. “No,” she said, swallowing heavily before continuing. “I think it would be best if we stayed away from one another. I appreciate what you did for me tonight, but we can’t do this anymore.”
Panic flared inside of me unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. But so did pride.
I fixed my face, a blank, emotionless expression staring back at me in the mirror. “You’re right,” I agreed. “We shouldn’t have started this from the beginning.” There was no emotion in my voice as I spoke. “You were right about that.”
I didn’t know what I expected, but there was no change in Carla’s expression except for the smallest tremble of her bottom lip.
I turned away from her, focusing on my bed comforter. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I wasn’t so cold that I didn’t recognize Carla had been through a lot tonight. But she didn’t take me up on that offer, and all I heard was the sound of her feet as she left the room, and the click of her door lock as it was activated.
Only then, did I allow myself a moment to feel. There was grief in my chest, but I smothered it down as I allowed the anger to re-ignite inside of me.
Caleb Strong. The fucker who’d tried to rape Carla, who should be counting his lucky stars that he was still breathing, was like a roach. He was popping up in all sorts of places.
The information that Matteo put together was comprised mostly of police reports, and there were a lot of them. The LAPD was not going to let this case go, even if Moreno had done everything he could to block the police from discovering the truth.
When I’d looked at the evidence, I’d wondered if he was messing with the investigation because he wanted to handle the murders himself, or because he wanted to protect his daughter. Did Moreno think that Carla had something to do with what happened?
Honestly, from the evidence, it looked bad.
If I didn’t know Carla, I might be convinced that she was involved as well. And that was what the cops thought.
Sighing, I sat across from my laptop and started looking at the report again. My family didn’t have a lot of love for the police, but I had to give it to the detectives who worked on the Moreno case. They were thorough.
The issue was that there was a lot of evidence that didn’t make sense. The crime was both meticulous and messy. There was evidence left behind, but none that could definitively prove who committed the crimes.
The detective notes made it clear that Carla was the prime suspect. The only issue was that she was also a victim, one who nearly died. There was no ignoring that.
Looking at the screen was making my head ache. I knew Carla was not capable of murder, especially not of her mother and brother. Even if she’d been as high as her toxicology report suggested, she would not have been able to execute her brother so coolly.
Angel Moreno died from a single shot to the head. Execution style. This looked like a typical hit.
And I would have thought it was cartel if that was the end of it, but Carla’s mother was bludgeoned. The photos of her body were impossible for me to look at without feeling ill.
Even high, I didn’t think that Carla had the physical strength for such actions, and the cartel would not have been so frenzied. When they wanted to, they could inflict a great amount of torture, but they would have taken Carla’s mother, and they would not have left evidence.
The sound of rustling outside my door drew my attention, and I reached out to close my computer just as my dad opened the door.
