“It’s the truth, Juanita.”
Maybe the softness of his tone got through to her where anger wouldn’t. She stared up at him with those big brown doe eyes of hers for what felt like a lifetime.
He’d always been amazed at how she changed with makeup. She looked so young without the crap she coated her features in. With it all pasted on, it added about ten years to her features and made her look a lot more sexually aggressive than he knew her to be. She chose bold and striking colors when, at heart, she was a softer, tender creature.
He’d always thought it was because brassy and extroverted was her mask, the way she survived in the cartel.
His theory had never been proved right or wrong, but he still suspected it regardless.
“Why are you here?” she whispered, shielding her eyes now by loweri
