But Santiago and Adriana were Val’s only family. They were his only tie to the humanity his mother instilled in him. It was at that moment I understood.
If he lost them, he lost the only thing keeping him from becoming the man he was groomed to be.
I stood. “Is Eden okay?”
Val continued into the kitchen, his movements robotic. “Her son is missing. What do you think?”
Mateo caught my eye, warning me to shut up with a slight shake of his head. But every minute I wasted worrying about my own ass was time wasted finding Adriana, so I turned my back to him.
“Val, you have to know Adriana didn’t do this. She wouldn’t hurt Santi.” I ignored the low exhale behind me and waited for the storm.
A storm that never came.
“Do you know what she asked me last night?” Val kept his back to me as he stared at the refrigerator.
I assumed it was a rhetorical question, so I didn’t answer.
“She told me she’d been to Santiago’s nursery. I knew, of course. I’d already gotten an earful from Eden. She walked in and found Adriana caressing Santi’s cheek. Said she heard her whisper something about familia. Eden lost her shit, but Adriana didn’t fight back.”
The image of Adriana with Santi fueled my need to do something—anything—but I said nothing and let him continue.
“But it was what Adriana said to me that keeps running through my head. She said, ‘Are you sure he’s safe in there?’” He spun around, a vertical line sinking deep between his eyes. “I asked her what she meant, and she said something about having staff and sicarios coming in and out of the house, and shouldn’t I have security measures in place. I told her Santi was fine, but there was this look in her eyes. It was, fuck, I don’t know. It was sadness and fear. She said she had something to tell me, but then Eden came in, and she said she’d tell me later.” He sucked in a tired breath, his eyes shifting back to the refrigerator. “But later never came.”
No one said a word. All eyes just settled on the picture of the smiling baby stuck to the middle of a refrigerator that cost more than most people’s cars. It was no doubt put there by Eden, but Val couldn’t tear his eyes away. He traced the infant’s face, his shoulders sinking even lower.
“Why did she ask all that? Was she planning? Scheming?”
Then everything hit at once. Like a song playing in reverse, then suddenly skipping to the end.
She told me too. I just didn’t listen.
“This isn’t your problem, Brody. I’m not letting you take the fall for my mistakes. Past, present, or future.”
Then my own sister’s words rang in my ears.
“Salvation comes in many forms. Sometimes it’s in the shape of your biggest regret.”
Adriana hated herself for the pain she’d inflicted on Val. Her salvation would be her redemption, but how would focusing on Santiago factor in with…
“Ignacio.” The word sounded as bitter as it tasted.
Val whipped back around. “What?”
“Ignacio has them. She didn’t take Santi. He took them both.”
Mateo’s chair scraped along the floor as he stood. “Do you have proof? She could’ve willingly taken Santi to him. She already admitted to him initially offering her a partnership.”
Val’s phone rang, and he straightened, his shoulders rising. He quietly listened, his face a mask of granite. “Sí. Muy bien. Estaremos esperando por usted.” Yes. Very good. We will be waiting for you. Disconnecting the call, his somber expression revived with what I knew to be the promise of blood. “No,” he said, his eyes flashing. “He doesn’t have proof. But I know someone who does.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Adriana
Tlajomulco de Zuñiga, Jalisco, Mexico
A familiar dank, musty smell hit me as soon as I opened my eyes. A metallic rust that only lingered with the stain of life. Only this time, there wasn’t just a stain.
Blood.
I smelled it. I tasted it. I felt its warmth pool under my cheek.
“Finally, the fly finds herself caught in the spider’s web.” Gravelly Spanish raked over my thin nerves like fresh sandpaper.
I rolled onto my back, forcing my native language from my raw throat. “Are you the fly or the spider?”
“I’m God.”
The two words hit me like a visceral blow to the chest. “Where is he? I demand you tell me what you did to him!”
“You’re not in a position to demand anything.”
“If you hurt him, I’ll kill you.”
Shaking his head, Ignacio pulled a cigar from his pocket. “Fighting until the bitter end, just like your whore mother.” The last word was garbled as he bit off the tip and spat it at my feet, his gaze never leaving mine as he lit the end.
I let out a silent breath. “Where is he?”
The low laugh that followed nearly broke me. “You know they think you did it.” He exhaled, a cloud of smoke pluming around his face. “I couldn’t have scripted it any better. You had every privilege. Everything handed to you. You think you shined up that crown, but one apologetic text message, and you opened the door for the devil, didn’t you?”
My heart free fell into my stomach as he bent down on his haunches, his lips splitting into a sadistic snarl.
“I said you were the fly, but now that I think about it, you’re more of a black widow. Men have a nasty habit of dying around you, puta. You got the entire Muñoz family murdered, and now look at the web you’ve spun around the Carreras and your gringo boyfriend.” He grabbed my hair, rancid breath heating my face. “I won’t mention what you did to me.” Slamming my head back down, he shrugged. “I’m all for spilling enemy blood, but you’re out of control.”
Fire rushed through my veins. “Fuck you!”
With a demonic roar, he drew his arm back and swung, the back of his hand driving into the side of my face, but I didn’t cry out.
He wiped my blood off his hand onto his jeans, scowling with a vile hatred beyond anything I’d ever seen. Cold black eyes, soulless from both being denied and betrayed stared at me with contempt. “Shut up, Carrera whore.”
I glared back at him. “Don’t ever call me that again.”
The hot breath on my neck disappeared as he shuffled around me. “You’re not a Muñoz. You’re the enemy. You proved that when you defied me, again. Carrera blood runs through your veins, and now it stains your hands.”
“Then kill me and get it over with.”
“I’ve already told you. I want Alejandro Carrera’s son to kneel before me. I want him to beg for my mercy. Killing you doesn’t benefit me yet. I need my puppet to dance for me one last time, and this time she’ll perform for an audience of three.”
I saw the dark truth etched in his face and tattooed in his eyes, and panic erupted through my veins. He was going to use me to lure Val here.
To Santiago and to his death.
My frantic mind launched into overdrive, accusations spilling out one after the other. “You said if I defied you and didn’t bring Santi back to Tlajomulco de Zuñiga in four days, you’d expose me to Val and Brody. Those were your words, Ignacio. You said you’d kill your own son, ruin me, and then come after all of us. You barely gave me forty-eight hours.”