Broken by Lies

by Rebecca Shea

  I plug in the flash drive that I brought back from Mexico with me and sort through folders and files, reorganizing so they’re more easily searchable by date. There’s one folder titled “Research” that I’ve never seen before. Opening it, I find a series of subfolders all titled with a series of letters—JM, AME, and EA. My mouse hovers over JM, but before I can click on it, Emilia walks into the room with my bed sheet wrapped around her.

  “What’re you working on?” With small steps, she rounds the desk. I lean back in my chair, and she sits on my lap. There is nothing better than seeing Emilia in nothing but a sheet and sitting in my lap.

  “Just work. I couldn’t sleep.” I sweep her long hair over her shoulder and trace her delicate collarbone with my fingertip. I feel her body tremble, and she tilts her head to the side. Smiling, I lean in and press a kiss to her neck, tracing small circles there with my tongue. I love her neck.

  Suddenly, she lets go of the sheet and runs her fingers through my hair, stopping at the nape of my neck. Her tongue swipes my lower lip and I inhale sharply.

  “Em,” I say against her lips.

  “Shh.” She runs her nails down my chest. Reaching inside the waistband of my shorts, she grips my cock, running her thumb across the head. In one swift motion, I stand up and she wraps her legs around me. Work completely forgotten, I set her on the edge of the desk and pull off my shorts.

  With one thrust, I’m deep inside her, and a yelp escapes her. It’s hard and hungry. It’s needy—I need to be inside her.

  “Alex,” she mumbles between heavy breaths. Her head falls back as I thrust harder into her. Her fingernails rip into my shoulders.

  “I’ve never felt anything so good in my life, Emilia.” She’s wet and warm and soft, but it’s more than sex, it’s more than a mass of bodies—it’s love I feel for her.

  Her hips grind in motion to mine, and her breathing hitches. As she comes, she throws her body back onto the desk while I continue fucking her. Her face is flush and her nipples are tight.

  “You feel so good,” she whispers as I still inside her, not ready to finish.

  “Wrap your legs around me.”

  She obeys, tightening her legs, her pussy clenching around me. I’m so close to losing it but manage to stave off my climax. I guide her body up and lift her. Her hand hits the keyboard as I pull her into my arms. I’m still buried deep inside her—my favorite place in the fucking world.

  Then, over her shoulder, the computer monitor abruptly brightens, and my stomach drops when I see Emilia’s face on the screen. There’s a picture displayed on the screen that I’ve never seen before. I don’t know why my father has a picture of her, but I know something is terribly wrong.

  DON’T GET CLOSE. Don’t let her in. Ignore my racing heart, my sweaty palms, and the throb in my cock. I repeat this mantra every hour, but I can’t. Emilia has no fucking clue what she’s in the middle of, or how she’s going to be my ticket to take down the Estrada Cartel.

  I slam the file folder closed and pinch the bridge of my nose.

  Trey saunters up and leans against my desk. “How was dinner?”

  “Good. Nice, actually.” That’s only a half truth. It was more than nice. It was perfect. Don’t let her in, I tell myself once again. Fuck, I’m so screwed.

  “Get any info?”

  “None. I’m wondering if I’m chasing down the wrong lead. I don’t think she knows what or who she’s living with.”

  “She has a fucking tail. Andres Romo. She knows what’s going on.”

  “I don’t know, man.” I rub my eyes. Part of me is dead set on using her. The other part of me wants to rescue her.

  “We need her,” Trey says firmly.

  I nod and lean back in my chair. Lacing my fingers behind my head, I kick my feet up onto my desk. “What if we can’t get anything from her?”

  “We will. Actually, you will.” Trey smirks.

  “She doesn’t have a clue about her father, does she?” I ask Trey, who’s picked up the file I have on Emilia and is flipping through the pages.

  “Nah.”

  “So, why in the hell did Antonio Estrada pull her into his world? I don’t understand.”

  “She’s collateral, regardless. If he takes her out, maybe her daddy will feel guilty and throw out the case. It’s a scare tactic, Sam. We’ve seen this a hundred times.”

  “Do you think he’ll kill her?” My hands unconsciously clench around the edge of my desk.

  “When has anyone walked away from the Estrada cartel alive?”

  He’s right. “Never.”

  “Exactly. Even the pussy Antonio Estrada hires for the night disappears for good when they leave. He cleans up his mess, though, and he does it well. We don’t have shit on him other than the drug charges. We need more… guns, humans. We need it all to take them down. Which is why we need the girl before he does something to her.”

  “The girl has a name. Emilia,” I grumble, agitated. Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t know, though. Something doesn’t feel right. Something about this just isn’t adding up.”

  “What’s not adding up is that we don’t have anything.” Now he’s agitated, running a hand through his hair. “We need intel from her, and fast. Antonio is up for a bail hearing in a couple days, and Martin isn’t the judge setting bail. If he’s got the cash, he’ll be out.”

  “I’m working on it.” I groan in frustration. “So, we’ve got Antonio Estrada in prison.” I draw a chart on a piece of paper. Alex Estrada is his son who is running the organization. His girlfriend is Emilia Adams. Emilia Adams is Judge Martin’s daughter. They’re using her. But for what? She should be dead by now if they were sending a message to Martin.”

  “I don’t know. Just do whatever it takes to get something. We’ve been coming up dry for months. Emilia’s our girl.” Trey pushes himself off my desk and walks away.

  “She’s not our girl, she’s mine,” I mumble to myself and open her file again.

  “Cortez, status meeting in conference room A. Now!” Hale barks at me. He’s the lead detective on this taskforce, and we meet daily to provide updates. Unfortunately, for weeks—make that months— I’ve had no updates.

  If I don’t get something soon, I’m fucked.

  DETECTIVE HALE BRIEFS the joint taskforce with a few updates. Mostly nothing. I flip through my files, one on Antonio Estrada and one on Alex Estrada. One thing about the Estrada family is that they’re spotless, except for Antonio’s little slip-up. The kilo of cocaine he had in his truck when he tried to reenter the U.S from Mexico was enough to hold him for as long as we have. The Estrada cartel does a fine job of flying under the radar. They’re not flashy and they don’t send public messages like many of the larger organizations. This has brought them much success. They’re small but mighty. They move millions of dollars of drugs, guns, and people across the border every month. Antonio Estrada’s net worth sits around fifty million and Alejandro Estrada is not far behind that.

  Antonio runs the cartel, but Alejandro, also known as Alex, is the brains of the organization. He manages the “business,” the money. He invests and does a fucking damn good job of keeping most of that money clean.

  “Cortez?” A voice pulls me away from my thoughts.

  “Yeah, sorry.” I perk up.

  “Any updates?” Hale asks, resting his hands on his hips.

  “Not today. Getting closer. Hoping for something soon.”

  “Soon would be nice. Yesterday would’ve been fucking phenomenal.” He scowls at me, and I can feel the tension in the room. They’re looking for me to make the break, and I’d love nothing more than to put those fuckers behind bars for life.

  “Look, if I push Emilia Adams too hard, she’s going to pull away. Give me some time.”

  “Time is a luxury we don’t have, Cortez.”

  I sigh and rub my eyes as Trey jumps in. “Shipment of guns was supposed to come through Nogales yesterday. It didn’t happen. Intel in Mexico is telling us every
thing is on hold. I’m not sure what’s happening, but there’s been a change in their deliveries. They’re onto us.”

  “Goddammit!” Detective Hale smacks the table. “I want those fucking guns. I want the driver. I want the truck. I want that entire goddamn organization taken out. Find out where the fucking guns are and when they’re coming across the border.” He stalks out of the conference room, slamming the door behind him. Trey and I pass a concerned look between us.

  “Now seems like a great time to get some coffee,” I tell Trey and push myself up from the table.

  “Good luck,” he mumbles.

  “Thanks. I’m going to need it.”

  “WHAT’S WRONG?” I feel Alex tense when I ask him this. Last night, after he brought me back to bed, he was distant, disconnected. He made love to me physically, but mentally, he was somewhere else.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Alex.” I prop my head on my arm and trace his chest muscles.

  He sighs loudly before pulling me closer. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “Like?”

  “Em…” His voices pleads with me not to push him.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you.”

  “I’m fine. I just have to get a few things taken care of this morning, and then I’ll be home. You’re calling in sick to work today. I need you here at the house. I have to take Andres with me.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my lips. I love how he tells me what to do, then follows it up with a kiss. I roll my eyes at him.

  “I can’t call in sick. They need me.” Plus, I don’t like being told what to do. Alex should know that by now.

  “Em,” he says, his voice tired.

  “Fine,” I concede begrudgingly. “Just today. I won’t do this again, Alex.” I give him a stern look, but his gleeful smile doesn’t care.

  “Good.” He pushes my shoulder gently, urging me to my back. Rolling on top of me, he slides inside me and makes love to me. Sweet and caring. The Alex that went missing last night is back.

  I TURN ON the shower in Alex’s bathroom and step inside. There are showerheads that spray gentle streams of water from all directions, and the hot water massages my tired muscles. I inhale the steam, pulling the hot, moist air into my lungs.

  Suddenly, I’m hit with a blast of cold air as Alex steps in with me. He stands under a showerhead across the way, his amber eyes fixed on me. I can see the defined lines of his abs as he lifts his arms to shampoo his hair. Tipping his head back into the stream, the suds roll down his firm, tanned body. His cock is semi-hard, lying against his thigh, and I want him inside me again. I’ll never get enough of him.

  He catches me looking and smiles before stepping forward. “Something you like?”

  “Mmhmm,” I mumble as he presses a sweet kiss to my lips.

  “I want nothing more than to press you up against this shower wall and fuck you senseless, Em, but I have a meeting I have to get to. Tonight, you won’t be able to walk once I’m done with you.” He squeezes my nipple gently, and I laugh.

  With a good-natured expression, he takes a step back. “Take your time in here. Rosa is here and will have breakfast for you. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  I smile. “Okay.”

  “And remember, no leaving.”

  I roll my eyes. “Got it, warden.”

  He chuckles at that, then steps out of the shower, leaving me to wonder what the hell is going on that he’s taking Andres with him. I don’t let myself think for too long because then I’ll worry.

  I finish my shower and dress quickly. Rosa is in the kitchen, humming to Spanish music that’s blaring from her phone. She shakes her hips as she pushes scrambled eggs around in a pan on the stove, and I giggle, watching her.

  She startles when she sees me and shakes her wooden spoon at me. “Girl, don’t go sneaking up on people.”

  “I didn’t!” I raise my hands in surrender. “You’re quite the dancer, Rosa,” I joke with her.

  Her laugh is loud and bellows through the open kitchen. “You’re lucky I like you, Emilia.” She shoves a plate full of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in front of me. “Coffee?”

  “I would love some.” She’s so good to me. I envision if my mom was healthy, she would have been like Rosa. I smile at that thought.

  “What time do you have to be to work?”

  “I’m calling in sick today. My stomach is bothering me,” I lie to her. I don’t know if Alex told her I’d be here or not, and it’s best to just lead on that I’m not feeling well.

  “I can make you something else if that food is too heavy.” She points to the plate.

  I almost hug my plate. No way is she taking this delicious meal away from me. “This is fine, Rosa. Thank you.” I smile at her.

  “I have some errands to run and groceries to pick up. You feeling okay to be here alone?” she asks as she hand washes the dishes in the sink. I still don’t understand why she doesn’t use the dishwasher. I never had a dishwasher. If I could’ve avoided hand washing dishes, I would’ve.

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’m just going to lie down and rest.”

  “Okay. Do you need me to pick up anything for your stomach? Pepto Bismol, ginger ale, or crackers?”

  “I’m good, but thank you.” She’s too good to me.

  My phone buzzes on the counter, and I see Sam’s name on the screen. Swiping the home screen, I pull up his text. My stomach turns as I remember Alex’s warning to stay away from him.

  I had a really nice time last night.

  Even with Alex’s lingering warning and the revelation of who Sam really is, I can’t help but smile. I actually had a really nice time too. It was nice talking to him and getting to know him. He’s different from Alex in the sense that he’s “safe” in a nine-to-five professional job kind of way. He’s a mass-market man, whereas Alex is a niche market kind of man. I don’t think Sam even knows I live with Alex, and I enjoyed the fact that I wasn’t on edge or had to look over my shoulder like I sometimes do with Alex. But I love Alex. I don’t love Sam. That much is clear to me.

  Me too, I respond.

  When can I see you again?

  My heart races with that question. Because I don’t know the answer, and I’m torn. I ignore him, but he responds quickly.

  Is everything okay?

  I sigh guiltily and text: Just not feeling well. I’ll message you later.

  There’s a knock on the front door. Weird. Alex didn’t say anything about anyone stopping by. I toss my phone aside and head to the front. When I see the peephole is covered with a hand, anxiety pools in my stomach. The deadbolt is locked, so I jog quickly to Alex’s office to check the security cameras. Wiggling the mouse, the screen lights up, and I can see eight small frames from each of the eight different security cameras. Each frame rotates to a larger screen. Finally, I see that it’s Saul outside. I shudder when I think of him and decide that I won’t answer.

  Sitting in the leather office chair, I hold my breath while I watch Saul on the screen. He presses his hand against the peephole and knocks with the other. When he gets no response, he opens his cell and walks away. I watch him take the stairs down to the parking garage before I lose him.

  Blowing out a breath, I lean back in the chair, scanning the monitors several more times. And then… My breath hitches when an old picture of myself looks back at me. Alex has a picture of me? From my high school graduation?

  “What the hell?” My lungs are in my throat.

  It’s the same picture I keep tucked inside the front of my journal, only in this picture, my mom has been cropped out. I close it out and find that it’s inside a folder with other documents, files, and pictures. When I click on another image, a picture of my dad pops up. He’s dressed in a tuxedo, obviously at an event. My dad. He’s smiling—happy. Why does Alex have pictures of my family? My heart races as I click on another image. This time of my mom.

  “Jesus Christ,” I whisper, horrified.


  With a shaky hand, I click on yet another image—a photo of my mom dead on the floor of our trailer, holding that gun. A gun I knew we never owned. Tears fill my eyes quickly and spill down my cheeks as I question everything I thought I believed about Alex. Why does he have these pictures? And why this picture? Oh my God, was he involved?

  Nausea settles in, and my stomach begins twisting inside me. I run to the bathroom in my bedroom, barely making it before I spill the contents of my breakfast into the toilet. In between bouts of vomiting and crying, I manage to pull myself together. Fear and unease settle in the pit of my stomach as I hear the front door close and footsteps echoing down the hall. With a deep breath and one last swipe of powder to my nose, I know that I have to be strong and stay focused. I’m getting answers.

  “Em?” I hear his voice and a chill runs up my spine.

  I plaster a fake smile on my face and swallow down my fear. “In here,” I answer him calmly. I stand in front of the large vanity, and I can see him in the mirror.

  “What’re you doing in here?” His brows are furrowed as he glances around my bathroom.

  “Just freshening up,” I lie.

  He nods, deep in thought. “I’ll have Rosa move your belongings over to my room. There’s no sense in keeping your things here now that you’re staying in my room.” He says it so casually, and I freeze as I think about all of my items in his room and in his bathroom.

  Finally, noticing my demeanor, he asks, “Is everything all right? You look pale.”

  I turn to him and rest a hand on my stomach. “I’m glad I called in sick. My stomach has actually been bothering me.”

  He presses a palm to my forehead before pulling my head to him and resting his lips there instead. He presses a few small kisses to my forehead before releasing me. Bile rises from my stomach when his warm hands rest on my shoulders, but I swallow hard, forcing it down.