Mateo opened the door to our room, and I walked in, overwhelmed by its extravagance. The room was beautiful. Val obviously spared no expense when booking the Presidential Suite at the Houstonian. Luxurious and extravagant, it was the perfect place to spend the perfect wedding night.

I never heard him move, but I felt his presence behind me even before his warm breath fanned across my neck. “What’s wrong?”

I considered saying nothing, but knowing me as well as he did, he’d take it as an insult. Hugging my arms across my chest, I stared at the fireplace, mesmerized by the orange flames already flickering in it.

“My grandparents are the reason I survived.” Just saying their names out loud drove a knife in my heart. “They were the only ones who believed me when I told them about Finn. They put me through school. They supported me and helped me raise Stella on my own. I owe them everything.”

At the mention of her name, he let out a tortured breath. “So do I.”

I recognized the pain in his voice, and I wanted to comfort him, but I couldn’t. “They don’t deserve this, Mateo. Before I left San Marcos, I could see disappointment in their faces. It almost killed me.”

“I’m sure they understood and were just worried, mi amor,” Mateo soothed, his hand finding its way to my shoulder.

But I didn’t deserve his comfort, so I stepped away.

“Stella didn’t understand. She wouldn’t let me go. She wrapped her little hands around me and cried, begging me not to leave her. ‘No, Mommy, no.’ That’s what she kept screaming as my grandmother pried her off me.” I shook, the warmth from the fire feeling like ice. “That’s all I heard the whole three-hour drive to Houston. I still hear it in my dreams.”

Undeterred, Mateo pressed his forehead against the top of my head. “I know. I’ve heard you cry in your sleep.”

His admission cut me deep. So deep that I turned around and faced him for my most shameful confession. “My grandfather followed me out to my car and gave me five hundred dollars,” I said, the words tasting sour. “They’d spent their whole retirement on me. I knew it was all they had, but he made me take it because he didn’t want me crawling back to my mother. They never liked her, you know—always thought she considered my dad to be beneath her. Maybe they were right.”

I waited for his shock. Even a hardened criminal had to have standards. However, it never came. The only thing I found in his eyes was pity. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Leighton, there’s something you should know—”

“No, I don’t want to know anything else, Matty!” I yelled, backing closer toward the fire. “No more surprises. I can’t handle it. Nobody’s who or what they seem, and now...now my whole life has been a lie.”

Mateo calmly watched me break down. “Do you remember the last promise I made to you?”

I nodded. “You said you’d never let anyone hurt me.”

“I meant it.” Mateo’s eyes were always intense, but something in the way they flickered with a complete lack of remorse drove me to voice the question that’d been spinning in the back of my mind for days.

“Did you kill my stepfather?”

He answered without hesitation. “Yes, and I won’t apologize, Leighton. I’d do it again if—”

“Good.” My simple response, spoken with such cold detachment, didn’t faze him. In fact, it seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders.

Neither of us spoke of it again. We didn’t need to. On some level, I knew from the moment I heard Finn was missing, Mateo had killed him. Maybe a part of me even prayed for it to be true. Mateo was a smart man, and maybe I’d indirectly planted the seed that set it all in motion. That should’ve frightened me, but it frightened me more that it didn’t.

An hour later, I stared into the fire when Mateo sat down beside me and handed me a glass of strong brown liquid.

I sniffed it. “I don’t like whiskey.”

“Good, you’re not supposed to. Drink it anyway.”

I took a small sip and coughed. It tasted like leather and turpentine and burned like fire.

“I got a call from Brody.” Watching the fire, Mateo tossed back half the glass like water. “After visiting with the current governor, Val got the charges dropped. It seems the evidence containing my fingerprints was conveniently lost.”

I took another sip. “Just like that, huh?”

“Just like that.”

“You’d think that could’ve happened before all that death do us part stuff.”

“Are you regretting it?”

Lifting the glass, I watched the fire dance through the liquid. “No, but you should. People are dropping like flies around me.”

I meant it to be a joke, but he didn’t laugh. Actually, I didn’t either. Maybe it wasn’t a joke. Maybe he should reconsider. After all, husbands in my family didn’t have the longest life span.

We sat in silence again and eventually, Mateo set his glass aside and stood, offering me his hand. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a shower.”

Just like that, the conversation was over.

Mateo insisted on washing my hair and kissing every bruise he’d inflicted on my body outside the Tahoe. He took me gently in the shower and then again wrapped in his arms on the biggest bed I’d ever seen.

Sleep came late, but just before I drifted off, his raspy whisper blew across the back of my neck. “Te amo, Star.” I love you, Star.

I closed my eyes.

It was the first time I’d heard those words in four years.

Mateo yawned and stepped out of the bedroom. “She’s at it again?”

Dragging my eyes back toward the screen, I nodded and waited for her to take the podium. Jackie had already given her dutiful intro, looking like she hadn’t slept in days.

Unlike my mother’s campaign manager, Mateo and I had slept in much later than we’d intended. We awoke to call from the front desk informing us that a nice young lady had dropped off my car and a few wedding presents we’d forgotten. He also said she’d left her phone number if I’d like to call her. Of course, the lady had been Eden, and the wedding presents, thankfully, were a fresh change of clothes and toiletries.

Also included was a note to turn on the television because the circus was in town.

Right on cue, my mother walked up to the podium dressed to the nines in a smart maroon pantsuit and matching lipstick. The banner scrolling across the screen had me rolling my eyes.

Mayor’s estranged daughter forced to marry into killer cartel.

“As you all know from the press conference yesterday, my daughter is deeply troubled. The Carrera Cartel has bought their way out of a murder charge once again, and this time they’ve infiltrated my own family, convincing my child their evil is justified. If this kind of brainwashing could happen to my family, it could happen to anyone.” Pausing for dramatic effect, she broke down in tears and waved her hand for a bodyguard to escort her off the podium.

“She’s laying it on kind of thick, isn’t she?” Mateo asked beside me.

I shrugged. “Press porn is her specialty.”

Having had enough, I pressed a button on the remote and darkened the screen. Glancing at Mateo, I watched him flip his cell phone over and over in his palm.

“Did she ever visit you in San Marcos?” he asked.

“No. I said all I had to say when I walked out. Why?”

He stared at his phone like he wished it wasn’t there. When he finally looked up at me, I saw regret in his eyes.

“Mateo, you’re scaring me.”

“I have something to show you. I should’ve shown you days ago, but I wanted to spare you. I thought maybe it was just Emilio being an asshole, but after what he said, and especially after what she did to a Muñoz informant...” His voice trailed off.

“Who?”

Setting the phone on the coffee table, he tapped a button on the screen. Sounds no daughter should ever hear from her own mother filled the room, followed by a visual I’d never forget. I wanted to look away. The scene unfolding before my eyes was depraved. It was nauseating and vile, but I couldn’t stop watching.

When it was over, Mateo tucked his phone back in his hand. I didn’t know if he had any answers, but I asked anyway.

“Where did you get this?”

“Hector’s apartment. Someone wanted this bad enough to kill him for it.”

“And you found it?

“Yes. It was encrypted, but let’s just say I know a certain IT professor who’s good at his job.”

I wanted to ask for more information, but my mind swam with more important questions. “Why would Emilio have a sex tape with my mother, and why would Hector have it?”

“The answer to both? Insurance.” Shifting toward me, he took my hand. “Think back, Leighton. What do you remember about the night Luis died?”

I was confused. “What does that have to do with my mother?”

“Just humor me.”

As if on autopilot, I recounted everything from the moment Alex accosted me in the quad until I showed up on Brody’s doorstep, surprised at how calm I sounded.

Mateo’s eyes narrowed. “He said, ‘get rid of her’ and not, ‘kill her’?”

“Yes, I’m positive.” I nodded. “Everything’s a blur after that though. Brody told me to run, and that’s what I did. Next thing I knew, the DEA showed up.”

“When did Brody tell your mother about Stella?” The caution in his voice worried me.

“I’m not sure. Why?”

“Luis started acting strange out of the blue, right?”

“Yes,” I said, dread gripping my chest. “What are you getting at?”

“Leighton, Emilio said Brody put a target on Stella’s back when he opened his mouth.” Frustrated, he scraped his hands down his face. “I think he was implying she was the target instead of you.”

My breath came quick and shallow. “My brother wouldn’t hurt his niece.”

He squeezed his phone, unable to meet my eyes. “I agree.”

Those two words hung in the air like a grenade. Mateo was lost in his own thoughts, but then again, so was I. Horrible, unspeakable thoughts that ripped my soul apart.

Someone wanted to hurt my baby.

My mother. My mother and Emilio. Alex. Alex and my father. Emilio. Emilio and my father. Finn. Finn and Alex. Everyone’s name swirled in my head like a diabolical game of spin the bottle.

My head pounded, nothing making any sense until one damning line broke through the noise.

“Oh, please, Leighton. I know what you’ve done. I’m the mayor. I have access to all police reports.”

I was about to excuse myself to be sick when Mateo closed his eyes and leaned back. “I think we should shower then head over to the townhouse and talk to Val.”

“You go ahead. I don’t feel well. I’m going to stay here and try to sleep it off.”

Kissing the top of my head, he headed toward the main suite. “Okay, get some rest.”

Once I heard the water run, I dug into the bag Eden sent over and finding my phone, I dialed the number on the piece of paper the concierge had given me earlier. She answered almost immediately.

“Leighton, I’m so glad you called—”

“Yeah, me too,” I said, cutting her off. “Listen, did you mean all that stuff you said about being there if I needed a friend?”

“Of course.”

“I need a friend. Preferably one who can be quiet.”

Her pleasant tone shifted. “Whatever you’re doing, I advise against it.”

“I’m doing this with or without you, Eden. With you, I might make it out alive.”

After a long pause, she sighed. “What do you need?”

Thank God.

“Mateo spoke of an IT professor who decrypted something for him. He said he’s the best. I assume he’s on the cartel payroll? You know who he is, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question. She was Val’s wife. She knew.

“Leighton, please...”

“Fine, I’ll find out another way.”

“Wait!” she called out just as I was about to hang up. “Professor Henry Bright at Rice University. Val’s sleeping. Give me thirty seconds, and I’ll text you his number.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t think she’d cave so fast, but I was grateful.

As promised, thirty seconds later, a number popped up on my text alert. After immediately dialing the number, a man with a corporate sounding voice answered.

“Hi, is this Professor Bright?”

“Yes, who’s this?” He sounded suspicious. I couldn’t blame him. Strange number. Strange woman. I probably wouldn’t have answered.

“This is Mateo Cortes’s wife. I need you to do a job for me.”

“I don’t know any Mateo Cortes,” he insisted.

Well played.

My heart pounded, and a layer of sweat built between my palm and the phone, but I hoped for the best. “Look, Professor, I realize you’re trying to protect your own ass right now, but we both know the bad mood my husband gets in when things aren’t done the first time he asks, don’t we?”

I held my breath until I heard him blow out a harsh one of his own. It sounded like defeat, so I pressed on.

“Right, so why don’t you spare both of us the unpleasantness of me having to tell him you’ve been uncooperative and just fucking do it.”

Papers shuffled in the background, and he sighed. “What do you need and how fast?”

I fist pumped the air.

“I need you to hack into Agent Alex Atwood’s employment records and transfer to the DEA. I want to know when it was made and who authorized it. I also need you to look into any encoded files about the night Detective James Harcourt died.”

“Mateo needs this stuff?” he asked skeptically.

Shit!

“Do I need to repeat myself?” I growled, trying to sound intimidating.

“When do you need it?”

“Now, please.”

“Are you serious?” he yelled. “I can’t do this now. I have a class to teach.”

“I guess you’ll be late then.”

My challenge hung in the air until he finally muttered to himself. “Fine. I need at least twenty minutes. I’ll call you back.”

Just as he hung up, the bedroom door opened. Panicking, I threw the phone under a couch pillow and flung myself on top of it, quickly closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep. The smell of soap and caramelized leather washed over me as he kissed my lips.

“I’m heading over to the townhouse. I’ll be back.”

Stirring, I gave him a sleepy nod, keeping my eyes shut until I heard the suite door close. Throwing on a pair of jeans and a blue knit top, I paced the floor until nineteen minutes later, my phone rang.

“Bright, what did you find?” I asked, my nerves shot.

Keyboard keys clicked in the background. “Alex Atwood called in the tip about a drug shipment arriving at a known Carrera warehouse. James Harcourt was the first detective on the scene and Atwood showed up shortly thereafter. After Harcourt was shot, it seems he did everything he could to save him. He got a lot of commendations for it too. That’s where it gets weird.”

“How weird?”

“Well, he moved up the ranks of the DEA without proper channels. He wasn’t promoted. It’s like he was just placed.”

“Who appointed him?” I asked, holding my breath.

His answer buckled my knees.

Sick. I was going to be sick. Violently sick.

“Thank you.”

“Wait,” he called out, causing me to pull the phone back to my ear. “I also found an offshore bank account. It was inactive until a few days after Harcourt died, then multiple deposits were dumped in there and randomly withdrawn.”

No more. God, please, no more.

“Is that all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

I never made it to the bathroom. As soon as I ended the call, I ran to the sink and threw up nothing but stale whiskey. It burned, but that was nothing compared to the burn of the worst betrayal yet.

Once I’d cleaned up my mess, I reached into my purse and pulled out the clipping I’d taken from my mother’s house. Staring at Alex’s face as he stood next to my father’s casket, I dialed one last number.

“Jackie Abrams speaking.”

“I need your help.”

Her voice hardened. “Call a hotline.”

“Wait,” I begged, bracing a hand against the kitchen counter. “I know what you’ve been trying to tell me, and I have proof. Are you interested in ending this once and for all?”

“Meet me at Tranquility Park on the corner of Bagby and Walker,” she said finally.

“No, meet me at Christ Church Cathedral on Texas Avenue.” I waited for her inevitable question.

“A church?”

“Trust me,” I assured her. “It’s the last place they’ll check.”

After a few more instructions, I hung up and grabbed my car keys from the bag Eden sent over. Adjusting the brim of the hat I bought from the boutique in the lobby, I slammed the door to the Presidential Suite and left the old Leighton behind.