The Truth About Lies

by Martinez, Aly

  She shook her head, hooking her arms around River’s shoulder and pulling her into her chest.

  Yeah. Dante was a dead man.

  “Right, okay. I need to go. Lock the door behind me. I’ll be back soon as I can.”

  “Take care of her,” she whispered.

  “I will. I swear.”

  Despite the distance only being a few miles, it was the longest drive of my life. As the only member of the family without a record—yet—I carried that girl in my arms straight through the front doors of the emergency room, yelling for help like a madman. As soon as they got her on the gurney, I sent up a prayer for her and then ducked out the same way I’d come in.

  Drew was idling at the curb when I climbed back into the truck. “She gonna make it?” he asked.

  “I have no clue,” I replied, scrubbing my hands over my face. “I want them dead. Both of them. If there is one Guerrero left walking this Earth, it’s too many.”

  He kept his eyes on the road as he turned into traffic. “River’s gotta be a Guerrero.”

  My head snapped to his. “You thinking she’s the one?”

  “I don’t know. This doesn’t make sense.”

  And he was right.

  None of it made sense. Not since day one.

  After Lisa died, I’d been a cyclone of pain. I’d thrown hundreds of thousands of dollars at private investigators, searching for answers. I hadn’t been able to save her, but bringing the men responsible to justice became my obsession. The police had written her murder off as a robbery gone wrong, both suspects killed by officers. But I’d spent twenty-nine minutes watching those two men beat and torture her for sport.

  That wasn’t an accident.

  That was personal.

  All initial signs pointed to the Guerreros. But we couldn’t get any solid proof. And, while killing those pieces of shit in Lisa’s name wouldn’t have cost me a single night of sleep, it also wouldn’t have soothed the searing failure engulfing my soul.

  That was when Drew, who’d been burning at the stake beside me, decided we needed to handle it ourselves. He stole two cars in order to get himself locked away in the same prison Manuel Guerrero had been sentenced to. And then Drew did what he did best—he became a chameleon.

  That was how he learned about the meeting.

  That was how we found out someone had asked Manuel to put a hit on a nosy reporter who was getting too close.

  And that was when Manuel had bragged about how strong his family was, stating that he’d allowed his young granddaughter to make the final decision.

  According to Manuel, the child had declined to issue the woman’s death, proudly stating that Guerreros didn’t take orders from anyone.

  But my wife still died the very next day.

  Whoever had been in that room with Manuel and his granddaughter that night had Lisa’s blood covering their hands, and it didn’t matter the sacrifice I had to make, whether it be rotting in a cell or in a body bag. I would make them drown in it.

  Like I’d told Cora all those weeks earlier: The world was an ugly place. It was filled with more sinners than saints. More hate than love. More chaos than kindness. And that was not because the world was filled with bad people. It’s because the good ones stayed silent.

  I was the sinner in this story. With a heart filled to the brim with hate and a mind overflowing with vengeance and chaos.

  But I would not stay silent.

  “Manuel specifically told me he had only one grandchild, Penn. I listened to him rave about her for hours on end.”

  I turned in my seat. “And you heard him say it was Catalina’s daughter, Isabel, who was there that night?”

  He slammed the heel of his palm down on the steering wheel. “No. He told me it was his granddaughter. His only granddaughter. It had to have been Isabel.”

  “Unless it was River and we’ve had the answer at our fingertips all along. Shit. We were so focused on finding Catalina we couldn’t even see what was sitting right in front of us.” I rubbed the center of my chest as if I could ease the pain. “Goddamn it, I’ve been asking the wrong questions all along.”

  We both fell silent, lost in our separate but parallel thoughts.

  “Okay, we gotta figure this shit out. What are the chances River isn’t Nic’s?” Drew asked.

  “If Cora’s her mom, she’s Nic’s. She’s never been with anyone else.” Except me.

  And, if I had my way about it, she’d never be with anyone else, either.

  But what next?

  Did I just forget about the people responsible for Lisa’s murder because I’d met Cora?

  Ride off into the sunset together? Love heals all wounds?

  Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

  I’d warned Cora about the fire inside me.

  I’d told her if she got too close it’d burn her too.

  And now, we were all up in flames.

  “This has to end,” I told Drew. “Marcos, Dante, Cora, fuck…Penn Walker. There’s gotta be a better way, Drew. There’s got to be a better way.”

  He took his eyes off the road long enough to look over at me. “Admit you love her. I want to hear it out of your mouth before I agree to help you break her.”

  I stared out the passenger-side window, biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted the metallic tang of blood. The world rushed by. The sun followed us, trees and cars blurring as we passed, and clouds moving in slow motion above our heads as the opaque moon hung in the sky, waiting for its turn to shine. Not even an hour earlier, Cora had been sitting in my lap, drinking piña coladas, carefree and giggling.

  That was the life I wanted for her.

  That was the world I wanted for her.

  One in. One out.

  “I just want her to be free. Even if that means she has to be free of me.”

  Cora

  “So, she’s your daughter?” Penn asked from the double bed beside us.

  River’s soft snores hummed in my lap, but even though she’d cried herself to sleep nearly an hour earlier, I continued stroking, soothing, and playing with her hair.

  The minute Penn had gotten back from dropping Savannah off at the hospital, he’d ordered us to pack a bag. He and Drew had stood guard at the door while River and I had gathered a few things, and then we were off.

  Cussing and cringing every step of the way, Penn took us to a hotel. And not a cheap one. I didn’t know how he was paying for it. But I was too shaken to care.

  I’d have emptied my entire Freedom Account to escape that apartment for the night. I hadn’t been able to blink without seeing River tied to a bed and Savannah’s limp body on that floor. I was so completely and utterly numb that I couldn’t even feel the fear anymore.

  Dante had manipulated my feelings to keep me in check for years. But, this time, he’d stepped it up a notch. It wouldn’t be long before torturing people I loved became his preferred method of control.

  Penn would be next. No question about it. Maybe Drew too.

  Then…

  He’d never touched River. But, one day, that would change.

  I couldn’t risk that she’d be there when it did. I couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to go, even if that just meant getting River and the money to Catalina. Whatever happened to me after that, I could deal with it.

  “She’s the reason Nic and I got married,” I replied, twirling a lock of her hair around my finger. “Funny thing, back then, I’d thought getting pregnant at sixteen was the scariest thing that could happen to me. God, I was so naïve. Nic was scared too, but he had this way about him that always made the bad seem manageable. Manuel lost his mind though. Forbid Nic from having anything to do with me.” I smiled at the memory. “The next day, Nic bought me an engagement ring. The day after that, he paid a homeless guy a hundred bucks to pretend to be my dad, and we got married at the justice of the peace.”

  My breathing shuddered, the happiness of those days colliding with the pain of all the years that followed. “The
Guerreros have never accepted her. They don’t even acknowledge that she’s Nic’s. They blame me, and thus her, for his death. Because, rather than trying to save himself, he died protecting us.”

  Tears rolled down my cheeks. But I couldn’t swipe them away fast enough to hide them. I didn’t know why I bothered anymore. Penn had seen me cry more than anyone else in my entire life.

  I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or bad one.

  He moved to our bed, sitting at my feet and resting his hand on my shin, nestled beneath the covers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I glanced up at him, using my shoulder to wipe the dampness off my chin. “Because it’s not safe for people to know. So many girls have come through that building over the years with one thing in common: They’ve all been abused by Guerrero men. You think I wanted to advertise that a member of the family was just upstairs, sleeping under the same roof? No fucking way. I was a Guerrero by marriage. She’s one by blood.”

  “How many people know?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think any. When we first arrived at that building, I’d just gotten out of jail and River was about a year and a half old. Manuel had custody of her while I was locked away, so like a knife to my heart, he’d taught her to call me Cora. It ended up working in our favor. I told everybody she was the daughter of a working girl who had died and that it was our responsibility to make sure she had a better life. In all the years that I lived in that building, I only had to tell that lie once. It’s gotten passed down like folklore. But I’ll tell you what. The women in that building take care of her. They don’t treat her like one of the new girls coming in. They treat her like somebody who’s going to get out.” I went back to staring at her. “When she was little, we used to get into our pajamas, pile into bed, lock the door, and pull the blankets over our head. She’d lie there for hours, looking at pictures and listening to stories about Nic. That’s when she started calling me mom.” My heart ached watching River’s long black lashes fluttering with REM. I could only hope she was dreaming of a better life. “She slips up sometimes.”

  “Damn it, Cora. You have a daughter. Why didn’t you ever leave? Just take her and run?”

  My head shot up. “You don’t think I tried? Jesus, Penn. I tried so damn hard from the very first day. At Nic’s funeral, Dante kneed me in the stomach so hard I started bleeding. I was four months pregnant, my husband was dead, and I had twenty dollars to my name. So I packed the little I had and went home. My father took one look at my swollen belly, called me a whore, and slammed the door in my face.”

  “Jesus,” he breathed.

  I got quiet when River stirred in my lap, her arm hugging my legs, trying to get closer even in sleep.

  “Marcos found me that time,” I whispered when she settled again. It was like I’d opened the floodgates. The truth wouldn’t stop pouring out of me. “They hated me, but they couldn’t let me go because they needed to hate me. It was an enemy of Dante’s who killed Nic. He’d pissed some people off, so they came for his family. Dante blames himself and takes every bit of that self-loathing out on me. After she was born, I tried to leave, but he made sure I ended up in jail instead.

  “After I got out of lockup, I was just so thankful to have my daughter back that it didn’t seem worth trying to escape again. I started running the building and settled in for what I hoped would be a decent life for the two of us. But Dante never let me breathe easy. It was way worse back then too. It was rare for a week to go by without him stopping in to take his anger out on me. I tried running two more times. The first landed me in the hospital for a week. The second in jail on another drug charge.” I twisted my lips and mumbled, “Strike two. But that wasn’t the worst of it. While I was there, Manuel used his good old son-in-law, Thomas Lyons, to have me labeled as an unfit parent in the eyes of the law. I lost custody of River to Manuel.”

  Penn shot to his feet, his face contorted by a snarl. “How is that even possible?”

  “Shhh. Keep it down,” I scolded, but River didn’t budge.

  He lowered his voice, but not his anger. “You’re telling me a judge awarded a criminal custody of a child?”

  I leaned forward and hissed, “I was the criminal, Penn. I was the one who tried to get away. I was the one who failed her.”

  “That’s a load of shit. I didn’t even know she was yours and I still knew you were a good mom.”

  “Not good enough, though. After that, I was literally stuck. I couldn’t turn to the cops. My only saving grace was that Manuel didn’t actually want River. He gave her back to me on the condition that I shut up and do my job. If I stepped out of line, he took her from me. Maybe for a day. Once, I didn’t see her for a month. During that time, I didn’t know what they were doing to her. I didn’t know if she was safe. I had no options, Penn. It was a cruel game that she and I both paid for until finally I stopped trying.” Straightening my back, I looked him right in the eye. “That doesn’t mean I gave up. That doesn’t mean I accepted this life for her or for me. I just needed some time to figure it out. And Catalina gave that to me.”

  He gave my leg an urging squeeze. “What do you mean?”

  “Thomas asked her to testify against her father. And she did. Manuel went to jail. Marcos took over. He has no interest in River whatsoever. So I managed to get custody back.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I thought Thomas and Manuel were partners.”

  “They were. Back in the day, they were unstoppable. Manuel would feed Thomas intel on the drugs and prostitutes in the community. In turn, Thomas would take down the Guerreros’ competition while earning himself a solid conviction for his record.”

  “So what changed that?”

  I scoffed. “Power trip. Both of them were riding it high. Manuel thought he was running the show. Thomas disagreed. River told me that Thomas started catching some heat and Manuel didn’t feel like helping him out. They quit being partners and Thomas won.”

  Penn suddenly shot to his feet like the bed had been electrified. “What did you say?” he gasped with wild eyes.

  “Um…Thomas won.”

  Intertwining his fingers, he locked them on the top of his head. “Because the Guerreros don’t take orders from anyone. But Isabel is a Lyons, not a Guerrero.”

  I eyed him warily and drawled, “Riiight.”

  He started to pace, his eyes flashing around the room without actually landing on anything. “When did this happen? When did Manuel and Thomas stop working together?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  He spun to face me. “Cora, think!”

  My head snapped back at his rough tone, but his face was nothing but a plea.

  “I…um… Cat’s been gone for three years now, and that was after the trial. So maybe four, five years ago. Why? What the hell is going on?”

  His eyes fluttered shut, his head fell back between his shoulders, and his whole muscle-covered body sagged in a way I’d never seen before. It was like a weight had not only been lifted from his shoulders, but from every cell, right down to his DNA.

  I gently guided River off my lap and made my way over to him. Resting my hands on his stomach, I asked, “What is going on? Talk to me.”

  His arms looped around me, pulling me into his chest. His heart was pounding, but his body remained slack. “I should have asked you. The very first day. But, as much as I hated to admit it, I was in awe of you from the moment I saw you. You were this gorgeous woman staring up at me, so filled with fear that it made you fearless. I was jealous, baby. Because fear and anger and resentment had been dictating my life since the day I watched her die.”

  A chill prickled my skin. He was making no sense, but it sounded like a confession flowing from his soul.

  I rested my chin on his chest and peered up at him. “What are you talking about right now?”

  He didn’t answer my question as much as he just continued. “But then I would have missed having you. It was worth it.” He smiled, his forehead c
rinkling with pain. “You’re a good woman, Cora. A good mom. A good person.” For the first time since I’d been with Penn, he reached up and tapped the star hanging around my neck. “One in. One out. No matter how hard it gets. You keep breathing.”

  My eyes filled with tears as Nic’s words from the past came back at me from Penn’s mouth. As far as I could remember, I’d never told him that story.

  But Penn fell asleep under those stars every night too. Maybe it was a given.

  He dipped low and touched my lips. “It’s been a crazy day, baby. Lie down with me?”

  I nodded, ready for nothing more.

  Penn and I climbed into bed that night. He assumed his position on his back. I assumed mine with my head on his chest. I didn’t think I’d ever fall asleep that night. I spent at least an hour staring at River in the bed beside us, watching her chest rise and fall while stressing about if Savannah’s was doing the same thing.

  Was she okay? How was she feeling? Was she scared?

  Could Penn really get her back for me?

  Sleep eventually devoured me.

  So much so that I didn’t feel him climb out of bed.

  I didn’t hear him whisper, “I love you,” when he kissed me on the forehead.

  And I completely missed the door clicking behind Penn Walker as he walked out of my life for the very last time.

  Penn

  One week before I lost her…

  “Hey! There’s my hunk of a husband,” she cooed through the speaker of my phone, but the screen remained black.

  I fought with my suit coat, trying to shake it off with one arm while keeping the phone steady with the other. “I can’t see you.”

  “Hang on. The internet is shit here.”

  I set the phone on the granite island in the middle of our closet and turned my fight on my cufflinks.

  “What about now?” she asked.

  I leaned over to see the screen. “Nope. Still black.”

  “What about”—her beautiful, smiling face suddenly appeared on the screen—“now.”

  “Nope,” I lied, biting my bottom lip to suppress a laugh.