Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Please, Abel. I can help you. Just slow down. Please.”
He looks out the front window, face serious, but he does slow a little. “You’re growing.”
I touch my hand to my stomach but don’t reply. I don’t know what to say. We drive like this for ten more minutes before he pulls into the parking lot of a motel along a noisy stretch of road. It looks as run-down as the gas station.
“We’re making a pit stop.” He parks in front of one of the last doors and turns to me. “Don’t do anything stupid, got it?”
I nod.
He climbs out then comes to my side and opens the door.
“Get out.”
I do. “Have you been here all this time?”
He shakes his head. “Just got to this shithole recently. My friends seem to have abandoned me.”
“Your friends?”
He takes out a key and unlocks the door. I step inside the dingy, stuffy room and he closes it again.
“So, Dad’s dead.”
I nod.
“It’s real?”
He must see my confusion at his question.
“I wouldn’t put it past your husband to fake our father’s death to lure me out. Would you?”
“What? He wouldn’t…” I stop, think about what Santiago had said when he’d wanted to leave the reception, but I’d refused. “No, Abel,” I say, shaking my head. “Dad’s dead. He wouldn’t fake that.” Not knowing what it would do to me, to us. “What happens now? What do you want?”
He checks his watch. “Just shut up. I need to think.” He reaches for the open duffel on a chair and starts to gather up the clothes strewn about the place, tossing them into the bag haphazardly.
My legs feel weak, and I perch on the edge of the bed. I close both hands over my stomach as Abel’s eyes fall once again to it.
“Did you have anything to do with the explosion that killed Santiago’s family and all those other men?”
“Wow. You really think I’d do something like that?”
“You were jealous of him. Of how Dad was with him.”
“I got over that. That explosion, as you call it, was a gas leak as far as I know. If anything, The Society is indebted to me for bringing to light the families breaking their laws, potentially getting IVI into serious trouble. Not that they’d ever acknowledge me. Although now that Dad’s gone…” He trails off, eyes distant momentarily before focusing back on me. “But I’m sure your husband has made sure I’ll never climb the rungs of their precious ladder. You know it’s a pretty discriminatory system. But no, I guess you wouldn’t know that, not as Mrs. De La Rosa. I arranged that, you know. That was me. I didn’t even get so much as a thank you though, did I?”
I don’t tell him his purpose was self-serving. Instead, I watch his expression darken as he seems to disappear into his thoughts. I take in his ragged appearance and see the half-empty pack of cigarettes.
“Did you have anything to do with Colette’s kidnapping?” I ask.
His forehead furrows. “Who the fuck is Colette?”
“Jackson Montgomery’s wife.”
“Oh. That was Holton, I guess. He was getting a little desperate. I told him it was a stupid idea. You mess with a man’s wife and kid, well…” he pauses, eyes narrowing infinitesimally. “There’s no coming back from that, is there?”
My phone rings then. I’d almost forgotten that I had it with me.
“You have a fucking phone with you?” he asks, furious.
I reach into my pocket as the call goes to voicemail but it starts to ring again immediately. It’s Santiago. I see his name on the screen.
“You do not answer that!” Abel roars, lunging for the phone.
I’m on my feet in an instant. “Let me talk to him. I can help you. I can tell him—”
He grabs the phone from my hand and throws it so hard against the far wall I see it smash.
“That takes care of that,” Abel says. “You should have told me you had a damn phone with you. He’s probably on his way here now. Let’s go.”
He takes my arm and drags me to the door.
“Abel.” I pull back, but he’s much stronger than I am. And he’s desperate. “I’ll talk to Santiago when he gets here. You’re right, he’s on his way,” I lie. I have no idea how he’d find me. “I’ll explain—” I stop when he opens the door and turns on me, the look on his face contorting it, making it into something terrifying.
“He killed Dad, you idiot. If he’s willing to kill that old man even knowing he had no fucking clue what I was doing, you think he’s just going to let me walk away? You’re dumber than I thought if you do.”
He drags me outside and toward the car. I resist. I fight with all I have and manage to kick him in the shins hard enough that he loosens his grip, and I slip out of it. I’m almost away, running toward the street, when I hear the honking of a car horn and see the shiny Aston Martin glint in the sun. I’d thought it inappropriate for a funeral, but he’d insisted on letting Marco drive Eva in it. Saying it might help cheer her up. Several cars behind the Aston Martin is a Rolls Royce.