Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(30)

My cell phone rings, startling me awake. I groan as I sit up and grab the phone from its holder. “Hello?”

“Chloe. Thank God you answered. I need your help. Please.” Santiago’s voice comes out as a half growl.

I haven’t bothered answering any of his texts since yesterday’s lake incident. Instead, I ignored his apology like it never happened. Giving him a chance in the first place was a mistake. I should’ve known better with how easily he lied to everyone else in his life. If someone can lie to their own sister, they can lie to anyone.

I hate to admit I enjoyed faking our relationship in front of Maya and Noah. It was fun and I felt like I was part of a family for a solid thirty seconds. But in the end, lying isn’t right and it’s something I avoid at all costs.

Well, lying isn’t something I usually do with anyone but Matteo. But that situation is acceptable. I can’t exactly storm the castle and confess who I am without him knowing me.

Marko cries on the other side of the line, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Shit.” Santiago groans.

“What’s going on? Is Marko okay?” I throw the covers off my body and stand.

“I need your help because Marko is actually sick this time. I swear I’m not lying. He’s puking his guts up and I don’t know what to do and I desperately need your help. He’s crying for his mom and she’s halfway around the world right now, so you’re the next best thing I can think of right now.”

“Did you give him any fluids?”

“Just water, but he can’t keep anything down.”

Marko’s wails carry through the speaker.

“Fuck, I’ve got to go. I wouldn’t ask this of—”

I ignore the urge to stand him up. It’s what he deserves after what he did to me. But Marko crying out for his mom on the other side of the line has me shelving my anger toward Santiago.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”





I use the side gate like a normal person this time and enter Santiago’s house. Crying from down the hall guides me to a bedroom on the first floor.

Marko squirms on the mattress. His PJ shirt is a crumpled mess on the floor, covered in vomit.

“Chloe!” Marko cries out the moment he sees me.

Santiago stands by Marko’s side and clutches his hand with a steel grip. He looks over his shoulder, and relief instantly floods his face. “Thank you so much for coming. I’m so grateful that you’re here.”

I push aside the fluttering in my stomach at his sincerity. Pull yourself together, Chloe. This man is bad news. He’s the human equivalent of the newspaper’s obituary section.

“No problem. Let me check him out.” I place my hand on Santiago’s shoulder and give it a squeeze. The muscles tense under my touch.

“Seriously. I owe you. I have no clue how to fix this or how to help.” The wrinkles in Santiago’s forehead lessen. He steps back, giving me some room.

I smile down at Marko. “Hey, little guy.”

“Hi,” Marko rasps, sitting taller.

“What’s up?” I brush his damp hair away from his forehead and press my hand onto it. “At least he doesn’t feel hot. That’s good news.”

“I go bleh.” Marko scrunches his nose.

“I think his fever broke after he threw up the second time.” Santiago’s breath heats my neck, making me shiver.

Chloe, focus on the child, not the hulking figure behind you.

“I miss Mommy. She kisses me better,” Marko mumbles.

“I know. Mommy wishes she could be here, too. Will you drink some water? It might make you feel better.” I grab the plastic bottle off the nightstand and pass it to him.

Marko snatches it from my hands and sucks on the straw.

I turn to Santiago. “What did you both eat today?”

“Nothing out of the normal. I made our usual pancakes in the morning, pasta for lunch, and then chicken and rice for dinner.”

“And you ate all the same food? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, and I feel fine. The only difference is the snacks he eats, but he’s been having those the entire time he’s been here. He never got sick before.”

I think back to my daycare training. “Any food allergies?”

He tugs at his thick hair. “No. He can eat anything and everything.”

“Then he must have a stomach virus.”

“Uh, Princess?” Marko taps my shoulder.

“Yeah?” I turn to him.

“I don’t feel good again.” His face, even in the dim lighting, loses some of its coloring.

I freeze. “Oh, no! Where’s the bucket, Santiago?”

“Bucket?”

Ugh. Maybe I can get him to the bathroom before—

The water Marko chugged makes a return appearance, and I am not a fan of the encore. It saturates the comforter.

Santiago mumbles something under his breath.

My chest tightens at Marko crying again. I throw the duvet off Marko’s legs and bundle it up on the corner of the mattress.

I cringe as Marko’s wails become ragged coughs. “If he keeps this up, we might need to take him to the hospital.”