Page 17 of Mercenary

Luciana and I gasp at the same time. Our eyes meet. Best friends, maybe.

Strangers, definitely.

“I know that now.” I pause then ask my question anyway. “But why?”

He growls at me as he stalks by. I quickly realize its the only response I’ll be getting. What I do know with a fair amount of certainty is what prompted this. It’s Shelby all over again, triggered by my returning home to look for my sister. Nothing out of the ordinary happened while I was there. Kylie was gone. I spoke once to Sylvia and twice to the clerk at the hotel on the edge of town, once to check in and the second time to cancel the additional night’s stay. I’d been so careful not to cause a stir.

Not careful enough. Shelby’s finally caught up with me.

“Keep a low profile. Stay out of trouble. Don’t get involved in my business. Was it too much to ask, Luciana? I would have handled things my own way.”

Luciana’s chin lifts just a notch. “Like you handled Arturo?”

“Arturo again?”

She ignores his furious hiss as she struggles to sit up. “I can’t believe it.”

“You better believe it.”

“If I’d known he was going to hurt her . . .”

I feel my knees go weak as I follow their conversation. It’s hard to say who is more surprised by the events that led us here. Diego, who hasn’t stopped pacing the room. Luciana, whose emotions vacillate between sadness and disbelief. Or me, who has ever so quietly been collecting bits and fragments of information and who has concluded that, not only am I standing on shaky ground, I’m at the epicenter of a horrible earthquake that is growing in momentum.

“She’s my best friend,” Luciana whispers, her tone full of regret. “The sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever met.”

“Dios, I should have never given into your demands.”

“What happens now?”

“She’s got to disappear.”

“I won’t let you kill her.”

I make a noise deep in my throat. It’s hard not to when the possibility that danger might still be staring you in the face.

“I won’t unless I have to.” Diego casts angry eyes on me.

Luciana stands, wincing as she moves.

I swallow hard. “Her cuts.”

“See what I mean by sweet? She always thinks about others first. Even knowing her friend’s betrayed her.” She fixes a throw blanket around hips then tugs the hem of her sundress free, raising it to expose the deepest of the cuts, two diagonal lines that form an X on her lower abdomen. “Hand Madelyn your phone.”

I swallow hard.

Diego snarls. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“You need stitches.”

“Yes. But right now, I want the pictures more. Diego can send them to him.”

The phone is shoved into my hands. “Take the goddamn photographs.” Diego curses, then stalks out of the room.

“Is this necessary?” I snap a few pictures which seems to lessen her anger.

“Yes. I hope the sight of them makes the bastard suffer.” Pause. “Do you hate me?”

I blink. “No. I don’t hate you. As for trusting you…”