“Who lied to you?”
“My m-Missy. Missy lied to me.”
“Your mom?”
“Wait, do you guys know each other?” Ricky asks frombehind us, and we ignore him, our eyes locked on one another’s.
“You’re doing a terrible job of stalking me if you haven’t figured out that my mother lied about my entire existence.”
“This is like that episode—” Ricky begins.
“Shut up, Ricky!” Alma and I say at the same time.
He looks away, and behind us, El Carnicero grunts but doesn’t say anything. I’ve never heard homeboy talk, but I’m pretty sure that means shut up in Lurch.
“What do you mean she lied to you?” I press her again.
Of course, I knew something was off about Missy, but I don’t know the whole story. Alma stalls before she answers, her nose twitching slightly.
“About my birth. I’m not her biological daughter. I’m here because Curtis knew Missy. He recognized me from the strip club and?—”
“Shut the fuck up. Alma, you work at a strip club?” Ricky interrupts.
Seriously?I glare at Ricky, my last warning for him to read the fucking room.
“Great, now everyone’s gonna know I’m a stripper. Thanks, so glad you decided to come back in and ruin my life.”
“Ricky’s not gonna say anything if he likes chewing with teeth,” I reply. Ricky gulps. “Tell us what you’re looking for exactly, and we can help.”
“For right now, I just need to grab as many of the photo albums and documents he has and go through them. See if he has anything about a baby or Melissa Gutierrez.”
“We can help you,” I offer.
She nods and agrees. It’s a white flag for now. While Alma’s occupied, I move to Ricky who’s sitting at the bottom of the stairs and nod up to the rooms before lowering my voice.
“If you find something, I want it first. Do you understand?”
Chapter 16
Efren
PRESENT
“Morning,” I say, entering the kitchen.
“Morning.” Alma mumbles as she reaches to grab a mug from the cabinet.
Piles of curls fall from her ponytail. Her plaid sleep shorts ride up her thighs, and I want to sink my teeth into her bronze skin. I reach over her and grab myself a cup, my body brushing against her as the smell of her consumes me.
That’s all it takes. My dick is rock hard. Alma turns her face, slightly flushed, as she moves past me to the fridge.
“Did you want some coffee?” she offers, pouring horchata into her mug.
This kindness is either her accepting last night as a truce or she’s put rat poison in the coffee. Something she’s not above doing.
“Nah, you can have it. I’ll make something for me.” Only I’ve been in prison for a minute, and I have no idea how this machine of hers works. “Where’s the filters?”
“The what?”
