He motioned to the multiple blast locations. “What about that is controlled?!”
Martinez’s silence lasted long enough that my sisters and I shared a look. Eventually, he cleared his throat, and in the time-honored tradition of a man who was in over his head—he changed the subject. “You reserved a room at theMar Blancohotel, did you not?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Did you leave your passports there?”
Wondering where he was going with this, I nodded. “In the safe.”
“I shall have Miguel take you to the consulate in Puerto Vallarta tomorrow.”
“Why?”
Martinez pointed at the growing hellscape. “Because theMar Blancois no more.”
That dire invocation imparted, he made a retreat, stepping calmly into the house as if parts of the city weren’t burning.
On his fucking command!
“Did he say what I think he said?” Raisin whimpered. “Our hotel was in the blast?”
“H-He must have known we were coming sooner…”
Raisin grabbed my shoulder. “Do you think he paid for the upgrade on our tickets?”
I shook my head. “Doubtful.”
“A man like Martinez doesn’t move without being ten steps ahead. He learned you were here somehow,” Stan intoned grimly.
“Why didn’t he tell us that was why he brought us here?!” Raisin whisper-hissed.
Stan’s hand slid up my arm in a soothing gesture. “We should go back to bed.”
Neev squeaked, which spoke of how fucked up this was because very little riled her. “How are we supposed to sleep?”
“Seems like Martinez knows what he’s talking about. Might as well rest before tomorrow.”
“Can’t we go to the nearest airport…” Raisin swallowed. “That potentially wasn’t bombed?”
“No. I’ll call this in and get the jet sent over,” Stan surprised me by answering.
Lucas would have grunted at us that he had shit to take care of that OnLY a MaN CouLD HaNDLe before storming off.
My brain screeched to a halt.
Because this whole thing…
Am I angry at Lucas and repressing it or something?
“Um, duh.”
I scowled at Neev. “What?”
“You thought that out loud, sis,” Raisin chided, but her voice sounded less like she was conferring with bats. “Think you’ve been angry at him for a long time and have always tried and failed to repress it.”
“It’s why you give him so much shit,” Neev said with a cackle. “Still, you get an A+ from me because I’m pretty sure you’re the only reason his head fits through the door. You know Ma thinks he puts the sun in the sky every morning.”
Embarrassed to be airing our family’s dirty laundry in front of Stan, and doubly embarrassed at this bizarre new trait of me thinking out loud, I mumbled, “Sorry?—”
