I tried to open my eyes, but they felt too heavy—stuck even. In a moment of confusion, I wondered if they’d been glued shut. It would make sense.

No. It wouldn’t make sense. That was stupid. No sane person did something like that.

Concentrating harder, I tried again, this time forcing them open just enough for a sharp ray of light to pierce through my retina and set it on fire.

Oh, God, why does my head hurt so bad?

I blinked, which caused the fire to dig into my brain and explode a pain inside my head that nearly made me vomit.

Maybe I did get hit by bus?

Forcing myself to focus, I lifted my head, staring at the white wall in front of me. It was bare except for a clock, which seemed weird. No pictures. No paintings. Just a clock ticking away the seconds as I wrinkled my forehead and tried to figure out where I was and how I got there.

Ouch.

The skin on my forehead stung, pulling tight every time I moved it.

Hell, did someone glue that too?

Irritated, I lifted my arm to run my fingers across it but stilled when it tugged against something tight and restrictive. Panic swelled in my throat, but I continued to jerk, only succeeding in pulling the muscle in shoulder.

Because they were behind me. My wrists were taped behind me. I was bound to a chair.

“What happened?” I swallowed, my mouth feeling like sandpaper.

“Welcome to the party, little lamb.”

I knew that voice. I’d heard it before. I frantically scanned the room, but seeing no one, I forced my mind to think back. The answer was somewhere in my memory.

I was in a car. Someone was yelling at me. No, I was the one yelling. I was crying. I remembered spinning and then a Good Samaritan saved me.

“You’re welcome, little lamb.”

They were the same voice. He’d picked me up and dumped me into the floor of another car. I squeezed my eyes closed, focusing on seeing his face before I’d passed out. Everything was so hazy.

Then the haze cleared, and I saw his face.

I drew in a sharp breath. Opening my eyes, I widened them as he stepped in front of me, smoothing a finger over his mustache.

“Emilio,” I breathed.

He just grinned. “Hola, señorita. Or should I say señora. So, what is this thing you have I’ve been looking for?”

I jerked on my restraints again, searching the room for anything I could use to protect myself if he attacked me. Unfortunately, the room was as bare as the walls. Besides a clock, I saw a table, another chair, a body...

Oh, God!

Whipping my head back around, I stared in horror at the crumpled female discarded on the floor like a piece of trash. She lay on her stomach, her orange hair fanned around her.

“Sarah?” I called out, although the chances of her responding were slim to none considering the blood staining her back.

Emilio shook his head. “Good bartenders are so hard to find.”

The bastard just stood there with his arms crossed, smirking at me. Then I saw it.

A skull with half of the jaw missing on his left forearm.

As I suspected.

I’d only ever seen Emilio in long sleeves. Today, he had them rolled up to his elbows, answering a question that had plagued me since hiding against a wall in Luis’s apartment.

“It was you,” I stammered. “In Luis’s apartment—it was you. What did I do to you to deserve this?”

I didn’t expect an answer, but I guess arrogance was its own worst enemy.

He let out an amused chuckle, seemingly pleased with himself. “I knew about you and Mateo years ago. Pussy is pussy, so I let him have his fun with you.” Walking a slow gait toward me, I held my breath as he gripped the chair’s armrests and leaned down. “Until you convinced him to turn his back on his own. Then I had to do some pussy damage control.”

More pieces fell into place. “You had him arrested.”

“I’m flattered you think I wield that much power, but it was a group effort.” Stepping back, he shrugged. “I could’ve killed him. I was soft back then.”

“He trusted you!” I screamed.

His look of validation came with annoyance. “What part of I could’ve killed him did you not hear, puta? And how did I get repaid for my mercy? I got left in this piece of shit town while he lived the life of a god.”

I jumped as he fisted his hands and hit the wall.

Crooking a finger, he tapped it against his temple. “But I always think ahead. I plan. I watch. I see. And when something benefits me, I take it.”

“Did my mother benefit you?” I hissed, tired of his self-congratulatory rant.

“Ah, yes. Our little home video. I assume that’s what your phone call was about?” He leaned against the wall and laughed as I scowled. “Years ago, she asked for help getting rid of some dead weight, so I requested payment—an insurance policy, so to speak. Between you and me, I think she enjoyed it more than she wants to admit.”

“Shut up!” Spots filled my vision, and my head swam as a whimper floated up from the floor.

“Sarah,” I whispered. “She’s innocent.”

Pushing off the wall, Emilio stood over her. “That bitch stole from me—shit I’d kept for years to cover my ass. Then I went through her phone and found out she was Hector Diaz’s side piece.” I winced as he pulled his foot back and kicked her in the ribs. “Whore.”

My heart broke as Sarah collapsed again. I wanted to help her, but my mind was too focused on one thing.

“Where’s my daughter?” I shrieked.

He clucked his tongue and pulled his phone from his pocket. “It’s showtime.”

Showtime could’ve meant anything. Since he had an obvious love for preserving moments on film, maybe he was calling someone to capture my death for his future viewing pleasure.

He smiled as the person on the other end of the call answered. “It’s not quite three o’clock, but the meeting has started.”

A new wave of nausea churned my stomach.

Three o’clock.

I told my mother to meet me at three o’clock.

I focused on breathing and not the clock, so I had no idea if it’d been five or fifty minutes by the time the quiet knock finally came. Emilio opened it, stepping aside as my mother walked in, all business in a tailored cream-colored suit, heels, and pearls.

She stood just inside the doorway with her phone in her hand, her face expressionless. Even after all she’d done, some part of me still held out hope that the woman who gave birth to me still existed.

“Mother,” I begged, never taking my eyes off her. “Help me.”

Ignoring me, she turned toward Emilio. “Have you retrieved our stolen package?”

“Yes, and I’ve hidden her in a secure location.” Anger flared in Emilio’s eyes, and he kicked Sarah again. “This one followed me and tried to stop me. As you can see, she failed.”

My mother offered Sarah only a passing glance before turning her attention toward her phone. “Wonderful.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I yelled, jerking on my restraints again.

She glanced up, “Am I supposed to be shamed by a murdering whore?”

“It takes one to know one,” I shot back with ice in my voice. “You think I don’t know you set Daddy up? Alex called in the tip that the Carreras were moving shipments. What a coincidence Daddy was the only one to show up. Coincidences like that don’t just happen, Mother. Especially to ones whose wives were fucking important business men.”

“Watch your mouth,” she hissed.

“You knew Finn hurt me.”

“A wife stands by her husband.”

“A mother protects her child!” I yelled.

She smiled. “A woman ensures her own survival.”

“You have no idea how much.” I stared at her, letting the unsaid warning hang in the air. I should’ve left it at that, but the need for other answers gnawed at me. “Why do you want to hurt an innocent little girl?”

She laughed, and I felt it all the way to my soul. “I honestly had no idea the little bitch existed, so you can thank your brother for that. Obviously, running for governor with an illegitimate cartel grandchild wouldn’t have boded well for me.” Her indifference slipped, and she glared at me. “Then you had to fuck everything up by killing that moron boyfriend of yours.”

“Why involve Alex?”

“So many questions,” she groaned. “This is why you’re here—your damn need to know everything. “I never trusted him,” she said, tossing a hand in Emilio’s direction. “And since I owned the good agent, I used him to ensure this one didn’t double-cross me.”

Keep her talking, Leighton. Just keep her talking and maybe someone will come.

“So why bother putting Stella in protective custody?”

“That wasn’t my idea. Although it was a brilliant move to intimidating you into infiltrating the cartel just to save his own ass.” She paused and leaned her hip against the door. “Poor bastard never realized I was one step ahead of him the whole time—of everyone, really.”

Emilio piped up. “What the hell does that mean?”

Smiling, she moved away from the doorway and flipped her phone around. A live broadcast streamed across her screen and right in the dead center was Emilio’s mugshot.

“What the fuck?” he shouted, lunging for the phone.

She laughed, pulling it away from him. “Did you think you were ever in charge? Getting rid of the brat would’ve been simple, but this is so much better. Think of the media coverage—the outrage and sympathy you’ve caused.” As the excitement in her eyes calmed, she offered me a twisted sympathetic smile. “I never wished you harm, Leighton. However, you’ve forced my hand.”

“I’m your family!”

She held my gaze for a moment. “So was your father.”

As she turned to leave, Emilio’s voice stopped her. “Hold up, bitch. I did my part. I found the kid and stopped her, but Cortes walked free. Where’s my revenge?”

All my mother did was shrug. “I can’t help that my son has pull. I certainly didn’t anticipate my daughter would marry that Mexican. I should’ve known better.”

“I agree.” Pulling a gun from his waistband, he aimed it at her chest.

My mother had the balls to look irritated. “Are we really doing this?”

“That’s up to you.”

“If you insist.” Reaching into her suit pocket, she pulled out her own gun. In Emilio’s shock, he didn’t react quickly enough, and my mother landed an impressive shot right between his eyes. “I guess he forgot I was a cop’s wife for fifteen years,” she offered with a wink.

I couldn’t speak. Emilio lay dead on the floor, shot by my own mother. This couldn’t be happening.

I must have closed my eyes because they opened the minute I felt her cold fingers on my skin. I choked out a sob as she jerked the gold pendant off my neck and dropped it in her pocket.

“You won’t be needing this,” she said, turning to walk away.

Stopping near the door, she dug inside her purse and pulled out a book of matches and a bottle of nail polish remover. After dumping the entire bottle of liquid around the only exit, she stepped over the mess and paused in the doorway.

“Oh, and you hung up before I could answer your question. You’re right. It is time to cut the crap and be who we are. Well said, darling.”

As she struck a match and tossed it behind her, I screamed for the only thing that mattered. “Where’s my baby, you bitch?”

The door closed, sucking all the air out with it. Still, I screamed the same words over and over as Sarah groaned on the floor beside me. Opening her eyes, she gurgled, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.

“The circle of life...”

“What? What the hell does that mean?” I screamed, jerking so hard on my restraints the chair tipped over and sent me sprawling onto my side.

A whoosh preceded an explosion, sending up a cloud of smoke that filled my lungs and burned my eyes.

Sarah glanced at the flames, a sad smile on her lips just before she passed out again. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star.”