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He sighs, and some of his bravado peels away. Dark circles are under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept in days, and his smile is too strained around the edges. I know my friend—he’s worried. “Jaguar didn’t bring me here on some carefree vacation, Pita. He wants something.”
I frown, confused. “Money? Information?”
“No. He wants me to convince you to stay with him.”
I brace myself for the other shoe to drop.Stay with him or else.
Pedro, however, doesn’t seem too eager to deliver a threat. His wide eyes remain fixed on me, and he seems to soften his tone, “He suggested I help you see reason.”
“Did he threaten you? Or bribe you?”
“No!” He winces at the insinuation. “He just showed me some very convincing evidence that your life is in danger. There is a bounty on your head, Pita. Not just in Texas. Everywhere. The kind of bounty few men can ignore. The kind of bounty that will draw out every crazy motherfucker from a thousand-mile radius. I’m sorry, honey. But even I can’t help you.”
“Because of him,” I rasp.
“Diego?”
“No. Jaguar. He did this.” Anger seethes through my veins, but with every passing second, it feels more plausible. That bastard. “He wants to pressure me to—” I have enough sense to break off without revealing Jaguar’s latest impulsive demand.
“Pita? Where are you going?”
I don’t know. Anger alone drives me deeper into the house. When a familiar, unsettling voice finally trickles into my ears, I’m in the basement, nearing that game room.
“Another win,” Jaguar says, his voice thick with praise. He’s so intent on Franco that he doesn’t seem to notice—or care—as I march toward his chair, my hand extended. “We’ll make a warrior out of you yet—”
“How dare you?” I swear it’s like someone else takes over my body. All I can do is watch my fingers fly out and connect with his jaw.Thwack!
“Auntie?” Franco whirls to face me with a confused expression, a game controller in hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Jaguar says. To my utter terror, I realize he’s smiling, even as he runs his fingers over his left cheek. As our eyes meet, his tongue shoots out, trailing his lower lip. I can barely smother a gasp as I look away, rushing to smooth my hands over Franco’s face.
“I’m okay, baby,” I insist, fighting to keep my voice steady. My fake smile fractures as I sense Jaguar shift in his chair. “But I need to speak with Mr. Domingas. Alone.”
His skills for deception on clear display, Jaguar doesn’t visibly react to the demand. He turns off the game system before suggesting, “Franco, why don’t you practice your basketball dribbling? I left the ball outside.” With his eyes on me, he sits back, cocking his head in amusement. “This shouldn’t take long.”
“Okay…” Franco leaves warily, his tiny steps echoing down the hall.
The second they fade from earshot, Jaguar sits forward, threading his fingers together.
“Oh, how you will regret that, Lupe. I don’t give a damn what you think of me, but you won’t color how that little boy sees me. Understood?”
I bat aside the demand, too confused to wonder why someone as twisted as he is, would care about a child’s opinion. That no longer matters. Once I’ve said what I have to, we’re leaving.
“You put a bounty on my head? Have you no damn shame? Do you even care about Franco’s safety? How could you?”
His eyes cut to slits, and he lurches to his feet. “Watch yourself, Lupita. It seems your friend Pedro didn’t properly relay the information I conveyed to him. I didn’t put a bounty on you, but someone did. Someone with a lot of money to burn, chica. They want you alive, though they don’t much care as to the condition.”
My heart sinks. Blood runs cold. It can’t be.
“You’re lying.”
“I love that spicy little tongue, but call me a liar again, and I will cut it out of that pretty mouth. You don’t believe me?” He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a cell phone. After swiping at the screen, he holds it up for me to see.
“Take a look for yourself. It’s an encrypted website that some men use to trade bounties on their enemies. I never use it myself. I prefer to take care of my shit directly, but look who a friend of mine happened to find?”
He points to a grainy photo of a woman surrounded by a block of text. Tiena Sanchez, age twenty-three—only the woman in the image has dark hair instead of blond. The height and weight are specific to me as well. Those details aren’t what make me sink to my knees and choke on a wave of bile.
Under the heading “aliases,” whoever initiated the bounty put just one. Butterfly.
