Page 3 of Blind Trust
“They don’t tell you about the sacrifices. The long nights studying. The alcohol.” Castillo let out a pathetic laugh. “The last girlfriend I had was my senior year of high school.”
Was she supposed to feel sorry for him? Lyla’s eyes slid to the pictures on the walls of the young doctor being flanked by beautiful women in scant clothing designed to emphasize their enhanced features.Yeah, life is really hard when you’re living high at the expense of those who sacrificed for their country.
Dr. Castillo rose behind the desk. “I couldn’t figure it out.”
“I don’t like this. You need to get to the door, Lyla.”
Lyla held her ground, ignoring Nicolás. “How long?”
“Longer than it sh-should’ve,” Dr. Castillo answered, but Lyla’s question wasn’t for him.
“Another minute. Two tops.”
“Kekoa.” Lyla flinched at Nicolás’s sharp tone.
“I’m good, but I can’t make it go faster, brah.”
“Get out of there, Lyla. The Feds are on their way. We have enough evidence to put him away for a long time.”
She could feel the agitation in Nicolás’s tone, and it sparked her defiance. Once again, he didn’t trust her to do her job.Why?They never would’ve gotten this close to Dr. Castillo’s records hadshenot been convincing enough to win his trust.Shewas the one who’d called in multiple favors from family friends—doctors—who gave her alias, Bridgette Anderson, stellar recommendations so he’d hire her. Andshe’dspent long nights comparing records untilhereyes felt like sandpaper from the harsh glow of the computer screen. “I’m staying.”
“What?” Dr. Castillo leaned his hands on his desk.
“I said I’m staying until you tell me what’s going on.”
Nicolás grumbled something over the coms that Lyla couldn’t make out before his voice became clear. “Can she move and put the chair between her and Castillo?”
“Yeah,” Kekoa answered.
That she could do. She took small steps—imperceptible, she hoped—edging closer to a large window overlooking the building’s main parking lot. She didn’t know where Nicolás was watching from, but something was reassuring in the knowledge that he was out there. She trusted he would do his job if necessary. That’s how teams worked.
If only Nicolás would trust her to do hers.
The sound of the metal sliding against steel caused her blood to run cold. All her training at the gun range made the sound very familiar. She swallowed against the fear welling up inside her and forced herself to face the threat.
Dr. Castillo’s glazed expression was locked on the gun in his hand.
Her pulse ratcheted up.One minute. She prayed Kekoa was right. “What are you doing with a gun, Dr. Castillo?”
“Lyla, get out of there,” Nicolás demanded, and from the echo in her ear, she could tell he was moving. Not daring to look out the window again, she kept her gaze trained on the doctor and noticed his face held an eerie expression of calm. Calm was never good. Calm was resolute.
“All this time...I’d been fine. No problems. No one asking questions.”
“Now, Lyla!” Garcia’s voice cut into her ear.
Lyla backed toward the door, but instead of following Nicolás’s orders and exiting, which any smart person would do, she turned the lock, trapping herself in the office with Dr. Castillo. Gretchen and Claude were no doubt still talking about Porridge over a cup of coffee. The last thing Lyla needed was Gretchen walking in and catching a bullet or becoming a hostage.
She needed to tread carefully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then you got here...” Dr. Castillo blinked several times, and a look of realization darkened his features as his bloodshot eyes narrowed on her. “You.”
“Got it!”
Kekoa shouted in her ear just as Castillo charged her from behind the desk, faster than she was expecting, the gun aimed at her face. With one smooth movement, her fist found the soft part of his throat, and before his eyes could register the shock of what was happening, the gun fell from his hand and into her free one. Relief flooded her.
Lyla turned the gun over in her hand. HK. Serial number filed off.Nice. A Buick trunk special, no doubt. She emptied the chamber before dropping the clip into her hand and met the doctor’s wide-eyed gaze.
“Wh—” He choked, grabbing hold of his throat. “Are y-you a Fed?”
