Bad blood

Unfortunately, Edier doesn’t know she exists beyond the parameters of their friendship. Or if he does, he’s smart enough not to cross those lines. He’s another man who’s fully entrenched in my father’s cartel. He runs the New York Santiago territory with Sam as his second, and despite their yin and yang personalities there’s not a whole lot of mercy going on between them. Sam’s the hot-headed arrogant one, with smooth dealings and fatalistic charm. Edier’s like deadly nightshade in comparison—deceptively handsome, but lethal as hell. Sometime over the last decade, my childhood friends turned into killers and si

“What’s your assignment about?” I ask her.

My sister is so out of place in this dangerous world of ours, and I worry about her constantly. The slightest knock sends her spiraling. I once heard Sam describe her as a fragile flower trying to flourish on a mountain of shit.

She has health issues, too. Ten years ago, I found her crying on the bathroom floor, curled up in a ball of agony. Every muscle in her body was on fire. Next, her knees and fingers swelled up, and then came the rash, ulcers, and the fever. After seven doctors, we finally had a diagnosis, and our father had a new enemy—Lupus.

Her future is unpredictable, a lengthy remission damn near impossible… I toss the iPhone back down on the coffee table with far more force than necessary. I can’t think about that right now. I can’t think about an existence without her. She’s the person I adore most. The one person I would do anything for.

My thoughts stray to last night’s blackjack table.

I’m wi

I’m losing.

“Fascism during the second world war,” she answers with a frown. Did I mention she’s a history major, too? “By the way, papá called.”

“Fascism, huh?” Oh, the irony. “Speaking of which…”

“You’re going to have to speak to him sometime, Thalia.” She candy-coats her censure with a smile, but all I see is her sadness. She hates it when we fight, but it’s the one thing I refuse to compromise on. “That’s unless you want him turning up here in New York…”

A shiver of fear hits my spine. He’s too perceptive. He’ll know something’s wrong the moment his boots cross the threshold of our apartment.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” I say, backing out of the room.

“You know what your problem is?” Her soft words trail me into the hallway. “You and he are way too similar.”

I stop dead, clutching at the door frame as a deep-seated pain takes hold of my stomach and twists...hard.

“Mom’s not going to let this go, either. If we can see the good in him, so can you.”

“You know what he is, right?” I swing back around, fighting to keep my cool. “Those scars on his chest aren’t just tattoos, Ella. When he does wrong, he doesn’t just shrug his shoulders and learn his lesson. He is the lesson... I suggest you make your assignment all about blood-thirsty Colombian dictators. You have a ton of research already. Twenty-one years, to be exact.”

Her face pales. “Drop it, Thals.”

“Never going to happen.”