The Vargas Cartel Trilogy (Vargas Cartel #1-3)(166)

I rubbed my hands over my lips. “I lied. I didn’t go on a road trip a few weeks ago. I went to Mexico. I ended up at the Vargas compound. I got the information when I was there, and a friend helped me shop the information around. That trashy grocery store tabloid was the only place with enough guts to print the story.”

He opened, then closed his mouth in quick succession. “Jesus, Hattie. I don’t know what to say.”

I rolled back my shoulders. “I did what I had to do. I couldn’t let him get away with what he did to me.”

“Do you have any idea what the Vargas Cartel will do to you if they realize you are the source behind that article?” He tugged on the ends of his hair. “They will come after you and they will kill you.”

I smiled condescendingly. “You’re wrong. You don’t know what you’re talking about. They aren’t going to do anything to me.”

He jumped to his feet, his eyes wild. “Maybe you think they won’t hurt you because they let you walk away unharmed once, but you’re wrong. Those people are animals. They will hunt you down and…and…”

“Tie me to a lamppost and cut my head off,” I said without emotion, and his eyes bulged. “Because I’ve seen them do that. Or maybe they’ll brand me like a farm animal.” I slid up the sleeve of my shirt and exposed the burn marks on my arm. “There are so many options, I don’t know where to start.”

His faced paled, and he looked like he might be sick. “Why the hell did you go back there? I can’t believe you broke into the compound and put yourself in danger again.”

“I didn’t break into the compound. I was a guest.” I shrugged as though I didn’t have a care in the world. “In fact, one of them gave me all those documents. He even arranged my first meeting with a newspaper.”

A wall of sadness punched me in the gut as the memory of my last moments with Ryker drifted to the forefront of my mind. As of yesterday, his phone was disconnected. I didn’t know if he was alive or if I’d ever hear from him again. I scoured the internet searching for news on the Vargas Cartel daily. Fortunately or unfortunately, I didn’t find a single article mentioning Ryker or Ignacio. I had no way to contact him. Noah disappeared two days ago. He left a scrap of paper on the kitchen counter with his cell phone number. I could call him, but the way our last conversation went, I promised myself I’d only contact him as a last resort.

“You’re collaborating with the Vargas Cartel,” my dad said, sounding lost and confused.

“I guess so.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you put yourself in danger like that?”

“I didn’t have a choice. Senator Deveron paid the Vargas Cartel to abduct me. Nobody would believe me unless I provided evidence to support my allegation.”

“So you went to a criminal organization for help?”

“I didn’t have any other options. Besides, I wasn’t scared.”

My phone vibrated on the coffee table. I didn’t recognize the number, so I pressed ignore and slipped it into my pocket.

“I’m the US Attorney General. Of course you had options. You could’ve talked to your parents.”

I scoffed. “I tried that. Mom ignored everything I said.”

My dad winced. “I know, but if you’d given us some time, we would’ve come around.”

“Yeah, and in the meantime, Mom would’ve continued to shove Evan down my throat.”

“You didn’t give us much time to come to terms with the accusations. You disappeared a few days later,” my dad said, dropping his voice an octave. “We didn’t know what to believe. You were acting erratically.”

“It all worked out,” I said as I walked toward the hallway. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some stuff to take care of before I leave.”

The light shuffle of my dad’s sneakers followed me down the hall and into Ryker’s bedroom. Without looking at him, I sorted through the stacks of clothes on the bed next to my open suitcase. I’d gone shopping earlier in the day to buy more clothes. Most of my things were still at Vera’s house and wearing the same five outfits had lost its appeal a week ago.

“Are you going somewhere?” my dad asked, leaning his shoulder against the espresso stained doorjamb.

“I’m thinking about it.” I counted the number of shirts and then placed them at the bottom of the suitcase.

“Were you going to tell us or did you plan to disappear again?”

I whirled around, my hands raised in the air. “Why would I tell you or Mom anything? You’re always busy with work. You barely have a minute to spare for me. Mom only wants me in her life when I’m her puppet doing whatever she wants.”

“That’s not entirely true,” he whispered, his voice raw, pleading with me to understand.

I cocked my hip to the side. “You and mom spent all of an hour with me the day Evan brought me home from Mexico. You were both counting the minutes until you could run away. I felt like you couldn’t stand to look at me. Like I had simultaneously disappointed and inconvenienced you.”

He licked his lips. “I’m sorry if you felt that way. We didn’t know what to do. We didn’t know what to say. There isn’t a textbook on how to handle what happened to you.”