Page 7 of Liar

I walk to the door to test things out. So easy, even my five-year-old self could escape. I sacrifice a book on the bureau titledTheArtofWarfare, rip off its stiff paperback cover and slide it between the doorframe. The first lock easily pops. Rolling the cardboard cover into a tight coil, I spring the second lock and the third, both higher up on the door. Three minutes for three locks. Not bad.

Now I need to find the Bastard.

The house is small, built ofbloquethen covered in plaster. A cement floored structure resembling most homes in Loreto. The bedroom connects to a small hallway, which, I discover, leads into a dimly lit living room. A small kitchen table and chopping block is to my left, an L-shaped couch in the center of the room along with a chair, and another hallway directly across from me.

It’s far too tiny to be a cartel headquarters. And no one is around. I pause, listen, and then am surprised to hear the echo of running water.

Not alone then.

I follow the sound across the room and down the short hallway until it abruptly fades off.

A man steps into the hallway a few feet in front of me.

He runs a towel across his wet head. Another is wrapped around his waist. He’s barefoot and shirtless ... barely dressed.

Gorgeous.

He’s built like a soccer player. Broad, firm shoulders. Muscled chest. Taut abs. Baby fine, black hair disappears into the loose towel that hangs low on his waist.

I swallow hard.

“How did you escape the bedroom?” he asks, his words neutral, his tone sharp.

For the first time in my life, I’m speechless.

He balls the damp towel into his hand and tosses it back into the bathroom before turning to give me his full attention.

I shrug my shoulders, not willing to give my secrets away. Besides, I’m unsure if I can form words. The sight of the handsome stranger has caused my throat to hitch and my vocal cords to shrink, then impossibly tighten.

He stares at me, expecting an answer.

I stare back, overwhelmed by my reaction to him.

One afternoon, a storm came tearing through Loreto. Lightning struck the chain-link fence surrounding the school, sending a fireball of electricity rolling around the top of it before it disappeared around the brick building. It happened so fast. Yet I never forgot the adrenaline rush I felt in that moment, the tiny goosebumps on the back of my neck, an awakening of the senses in the presence of such awe-inspiring danger. Sadly, the episode ended with the maintenance man’s garage around back bursting into flames and teachers and students alike racing outside to douse the fiery inferno.

I reach up and touch my neck, finding the goosebumps I know are there. The air between us is so charged, if I lick my finger and hold it up, I bet it’ll sizzle.

Dark, damp locks fall haphazardly across his face, which he impatiently brushes his fingers through, smoothing his jet-black hair back to expose his face.

Full lips.

A perfect, straight nose.

Sharp, piercing eyes that are fixed on my face, making it impossible to look away from him.

Hiseyes. “You have one brown eye and one green.”

He doesn’t reply immediately, but when he does, I stiffen at the hard edge in his tone. “What brings you to this side of town?”

I curse myself for getting so caught up in him. “I’ve urgent business with your boss.”

His gaze drops and slowly rolls over me.

I glance down at my bare feet, dirty gray sweatpants slung low over my hips, and the tight tank covering my bosom and back but little else. Reminding me of the hurry in which I left home and reinforcing the reason I’m here. “I need to see the Bastard. Can you either contact him or bring me to him?”

“He’s not in the mood for company.”

“Company?”Dios,doeshethinkI’mhereforsex? “Listen, believe what you will. I don’t have time for nonsense—”