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“I suggest you hire a tutor or pay for online classes so he can remember how to do his old job. Does that sound like a good idea?”
“Will that bring back his memory?”
“I can’t guarantee that, but at least he’ll be able to continue his life. The life of a twenty-one-year-old man who’s trying to find his place in the world.”
“We’ll do that.”
“If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to contact me. Let’s schedule a follow-up appointment for next year.”
As soon as the screen goes off my father growls, “This was a fucking waste of time.” He then glares at me. “Te voy a hacer trabajar duro—si no recuerdas, moriras tratando.”
“Is everything okay, Dad?” I ask instead of swallowing hard because apparently, I’m going to work hard, and if I don’t remember, I’ll die trying. I hope he doesn’t expect to win the father of the year award.
Seriously, who was he to me?
He grins. “Of course, Son. I just hate knowing you can’t get your old life back.”
“We’ll keep trying,” I try to sound like one of those idiots on television who shit sunshine and happiness because their fucking life is perfect.
“We will.” He grins.
“Do you want me to help you find computer courses and other resources for him before I leave town?” Derek offers.
He’s not even waiting to end this conversation.
“You’re leaving town?” I try not to sound desperate, but what the fuck, Derek?
“Yes, that’ll be helpful,” Dad answers, ignoring my question. “Do you know when you’ll be leaving?”
D shrugs one shoulder. “Probably within the next couple of weeks or a month. It’ll take me some time to sort out the class schedule and all the recommendations.”
My father nods. “Let’s say two Fridays from now?”
“Excellent,” D says, grinning. I notice the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s fucking lying.
But why?
ChapterTwenty-Three
Derek
I spendall night working on a plan and getting everything set up so I can escape unscathed. I knew when I took this job that the likelihood of the cartel allowing me to leave unharmed was unlikely. Knowing how men like this operate is the reason I set up my contingency plans when I arrived. Do I feel bad about killing one of Zamudio’s men and burning him to a crisp? Nope. That body is my ticket home.They’ll think the house burnt down due to faulty wiring and that it’s my dead body in the ashes.
The following day is business as usual for Travis and me. I offer to take him to town for new clothes. We take the scenic route and then exchange cars. This isn’t anything unusual. That’s how we lose Zamudio’s people and go to my hideout.
I take him there at least four times a week to train.So far, his father hasn’t said anything. My guess is it’s because he doesn’t want to raise any red flags.
During the drive, we’re silent. He’s either listening to music or working with his language software. I pray that everything we’ve done so far is working for him and that it’ll keep him safe from the fucking monster he lives with.
If I could, I would take him with me, but I need more time to plan and adjust Travis’s new life. The last thing I want is to be on the run for the rest of our lives.
When we arrive at my hideout, Travis glares at the car in the driveway.
“Who is here?”
“It’s the car I’m using tonight,” I say, climbing down the vehicle.
He frowns and glares at me. “You’re fucking leaving, aren’t you?”
