Page 83 of The Complete Truth Duet
I’d have emptied my entire Freedom Account to escape that apartment for the night. I hadn’t been able to blink without seeing River tied to a bed and Savannah’s limp body on that floor. I was so completely and utterly numb that I couldn’t even feel the fear anymore.
Dante had manipulated my feelings to keep me in check for years. But, this time, he’d stepped it up a notch. It wouldn’t be long before torturing people I loved became his preferred method of control.
Penn would be next. No question about it. Maybe Drew too.
Then…
He’d never touched River. But, one day, that would change.
I couldn’t risk that she’d be there when it did. I couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to go, even if that just meant getting River and the money to Catalina. Whatever happened to me after that, I could deal with it.
“She’s the reason Nic and I got married,” I replied, twirling a lock of her hair around my finger. “Funny thing, back then, I’d thought getting pregnant at sixteen was the scariest thing that could happen to me. God, I was so naïve. Nic was scared too, but he had this way about him that always made the bad seem manageable. Manuel lost his mind though. Forbid Nic from having anything to do with me.” I smiled at the memory. “The next day, Nic bought me an engagement ring. The day after that, he paid a homeless guy a hundred bucks to pretend to be my dad, and we got married at the justice of the peace.”
My breathing shuddered, the happiness of those days colliding with the pain of all the years that followed. “The Guerreros have never accepted her. They don’t even acknowledge that she’s Nic’s. They blame me, and thus her, for his death. Because, rather than trying to save himself, he died protecting us.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks. But I couldn’t swipe them away fast enough to hide them. I didn’t know why I bothered anymore. Penn had seen me cry more than anyone else in my entire life.
I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or bad one.
He moved to our bed, sitting at my feet and resting his hand on my shin, nestled beneath the covers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I glanced up at him, using my shoulder to wipe the dampness off my chin. “Because it’s not safe for people to know. So many girls have come through that building over the years with one thing in common: They’ve all been abused by Guerrero men. You think I wanted to advertise that a member of the family was just upstairs, sleeping under the same roof? No fucking way. I was a Guerrero by marriage. She’s one by blood.”
“How many people know?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t think any. When we first arrived at that building, I’d just gotten out of jail and River was about a year and a half old. Manuel had custody of her while I was locked away, so like a knife to my heart, he’d taught her to call me Cora. It ended up working in our favor. I told everybody she was the daughter of a working girl who had died and that it was our responsibility to make sure she had a better life. In all the years that I lived in that building, I only had to tell that lie once. It’s gotten passed down like folklore. But I’ll tell you what. The women in that building take care of her. They don’t treat her like one of the new girls coming in. They treat her like somebody who’s going to get out.” I went back to staring at her. “When she was little, we used to get into our pajamas, pile into bed, lock the door, and pull the blankets over our head. She’d lie there for hours, looking at pictures and listening to stories about Nic. That’s when she started calling me mom.” My heart ached watching River’s long black lashes fluttering with REM. I could only hope she was dreaming of a better life. “She slips up sometimes.”
“Damn it, Cora. You have a daughter. Why didn’t you ever leave? Just take her and run?”
My head shot up. “You don’t think I tried? Jesus, Penn. I tried so damn hard from the very first day. At Nic’s funeral, Dante kneed me in the stomach so hard I started bleeding. I was four months pregnant, my husband was dead, and I had twenty dollars to my name. So I packed the little I had and went home. My father took one look at my swollen belly, called me a whore, and slammed the door in my face.”
“Jesus,” he breathed.
I got quiet when River stirred in my lap, her arm hugging my legs, trying to get closer even in sleep.
