He halts and turns, the uneasiness on his face an obvious sign he’s preparing for another painful blow of my betrayal. I suppose I should expect nothing more at this point.

"I'm not telling you for Ivy's sake," I announce, wanting to make that perfectly clear. "I'm telling you because I want to show you that you can trust me."

"What is it?" he asks.

For a moment, my nerves get the better of me, and then my gaze drifts to Judge as if to seek his approval. He seems to understand, nodding at me silently, giving me the assurance I need to go on.

“It’s about Chambers, that doctor.” The first words are difficult to get out, and Santiago looks pissed already. So I rush to explain everything while I have a chance.

I tell him how I started following Ivy’s brother after Santi was poisoned. I go into details about the storage unit I tracked him to several times and how it seemed suspicious. I had no way of knowing it at the time, but I suspected Abel had something to do with the attack that almost cost my brother his life. The attack he blames me for, regardless of who really gave the order. I explain how I broke into the storage unit to see what he was hiding, and as I do, both Judge and Santiago glower at me in unison.

Ignoring their silent disapproval, I continue, hurrying to get the words out. I talk about the evidence of the doctor’s demise. The bloody wallet I found. All the files from his office. Abel was hiding them for a reason, and I need my brother to know that regardless of his feelings for Ivy, her brother can’t be trusted.

“He’s dangerous, Santi,” I croak. "And I overheard him say something on the phone. Something I can’t stop thinking about.”

"What was it?" His rough voice betrays his concern.

"He said he would sooner rot than let you impregnate Ivy,” I confess. “And if you did, he would cut the baby out of her himself.”

22

Judge

Once Santiago leaves, I rejoin Mercedes. She’s standing beside the piano still watching the spot where her brother was. I saw the hope in her eyes when she first saw him. And then the disappointment that followed almost immediately.

“Are you all right?”

She shakes her head as if to clear it, then looks at me. “Fine,” she says coldly. She turns away from me and closes the piano lid.

I go to her and place my hand over hers, pressing my front to her back. There’s a moment when she softens against me, leaning into me. But it’s brief, and I think she’d pull away if she wasn’t trapped between me and the piano. “Mercedes.”

“What?” she snaps, trying to take her hand from mine.