Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
The warm cadence of the song calmed her heart. Or maybe it was the warm gaze stroking her face.
“There’s just something about the sound of vinyl.” She stepped when he stepped, letting his expert foot movements guide her through the slow dance. “It’s richer, more authentic.”
“You get those little scratches and pops in the records, the hum of the turntable motor, the tactile touch of the needle to the vinyl, and physical friction of the two.”
“Listen to you. Your English is so elegant it’s poetic. I can barely hear an accent.”
“I had a good teacher.” He spun her around, making her laugh.
“I’m getting better at this, right?” She pivoted on clumsy toes and straightened her slouching posture. “Lie if you have to.”
“I’ve found you’re good at everything, Petula. A natural talent.”
“Except recruiting.” Her heartbeat quickened. She drew in a long breath and released it. “They said they want to spend their time here quietly and stay away from cartel politics.”
“Because they don’t like cartels? Or because their loyalties lie elsewhere?”
“The first one, I think.”
“If that’s the case, they can’t be here.”
Her insides turned to ice. “Don’t kill them.”
He narrowed his dark eyes. “You like them.”
“I don’t know them well enough to feel one way or another, but I want the opportunity to see if I would like them.”
She was hedging. The truth was she liked them too much, and she was afraid to admit that to Hector.
It was that damn accusation they’d planted in her head.
She wanted to ask Hector about the alleged human trafficking, but if it were true, he wouldn’t tell her. Not if he’d concealed it from her for two years.
Asking him outright would make her look like she was siding with the enemy, which she would be doing if Ricky Martin were right.
She couldn’t afford for Hector to be suspicious of her. He needed to trust her, and she wouldn’t give him any reason not to.
But she wouldn’t turn a blind eye, either. Hector La Rocha wasn’t a benevolent man. He was a cartel boss with a nasty reputation, one he’d probably earned.
Except he wasn’t nasty to her. He treated her like she meant something to him, like she was an important part of his world. He’d always kept her safe, and her life depended on that protection.
In return, all she had to do was remain loyal.
As the song ended, he released her and walked the short distance to the record player.
With his back to her, he lifted the needle and powered off the turntable. “Have you had sexual relations with them yet?”
Her face heated. “No. I need more time.”
“And they haven’t elaborated on why their identities were wiped? Other than the mention of enemies in a past life?”
“No.” A nervous twitch skittered down her spine. “I know it doesn’t seem like I’m making progress, but I spend every minute with them, feeling them out and earning their trust. They haven’t done anything to make me believe they’re a threat.”
He shifted to look at her. “Except for their refusals to join me.”
And their accusations about his business affairs.
“Give me more time.” She squared her shoulders. “They’re young and athletic, smart and skilled at fighting. They would serve you better alive than dead.”
A grin stole over his mouth, and he ran a hand through his silver-black hair. “Take all the time you need, Petula. You have my confidence.”
“Thank you.” She needed to return to the guys but couldn’t leave without asking, “Have you found anything on Vera?”
His face fell, and his head shook imperceptibly.
“I’m so sorry.” He stepped forward and rested a warm hand on the side of her face. “One of these days, I’m going to give you a different answer.”
A lump swelled in her throat, amassing with a horrible combination of doubt and hope.
Vera had been gone too long to be alive. His news would likely come with the discovery of a body.
But that would be better than not knowing. She needed closure, so she could finally grieve.
“Thank you. Again.” She stood taller. “Why are you so kind to me?”
“You saved my life.” He sat at the table and lit a cigarette. “You taught me English, and I enjoy your company.” His eyes twinkled as tendrils of smoke curled from his nose. “Why are you so kind to me?”
She laughed, relieved by his answer. “You keep me safe. And I enjoy your company, too.”
“Very good.” He shooed her away with a hand. “Go recruit the gringos before I change my mind and kill them.”
His teasing tone made it possible to walk calmly to the door. But as she stepped into the hall, the threat in his words closed a fist around her heart.
She made a beeline for the stairwell and faltered at the bottom step, her senses buzzing at the commotion of a nearby crowd.
The din of shouting and squeaking footsteps drifted down from the second floor. Something was happening in the stairwell directly above her.