***
"You need to act like nothing's changed." The cigarette hovered close to Ramón 's lips, even when he wasn't taking a drag from it.
I sat there in that interrogation room, my legs crossed, my hands shaking. This wasn't getting any easier. "You mean I still have to—"
"Nothing changes," Ramón said. "You've got to remain the perfect girlfriend—no matter what that requires you to do."
This was confusion. This was uncertainty and discomfort. I had just been informed that my Dom was an international criminal, one that was invo lved with sex trafficking and probably murder .
"H as he murdered people?" I asked, my voice attempting to fill the gap of knowledge in my head.
"There have been disappearances of competitors that we can only assume were murder. He's very good at what he does, so the bodies never show up."
The bodies never show up. A chill ran down my spine. I was still convinced that I was going to wake up at any moment and scold myself for allowing this to get to me. The room stayed there, however, and so did Ramón .
" Marisa , are you all right?" He put out his cigarette in the ashtray.
"I think I was there when someone was killed," I said slowly, clenching my cup until the styrofoam started to crack. I had fallen into a daze and found myself speaking without a lot of thought.
"Did you tell anyone about this?"
"He just said it was his uncle. That he had dementia. That he visited once every few months."
"Dementia, huh?" Ramón laughed. "Roland doesn't have any surviving family members that we know of. We've been on him for years. I need to know if you told anyone, Marisa. Did you tell anyone?"
"I told Frederic," I said. "I like him so much. I thought I could trust him."
"Frederic, huh? We don't know a lot about t he guy, but we think he's into whatever Roland is. O nly been around for a couple of years, so he must be doing a good job because Roland goes through guys almost as fast as he does women."
The statement elicited a nervous laugh from me. Roland goes through guys almost as fast as women. I felt so immature giggling at it, but my unexpected circumstance had certainly weakened my composure. "Sorry," I said. "So what do you want me to do?"
Ramón pulled out another cigarette and lit it. "Before I go any further, I need to let you know that you don't have to do this if you don't want to. You can just leave and be done with it."
"Roland said his people would find me," I said.
"Is that so?" he asked. Smoke was again filling the air.
"I don't really know what it meant, but I didn't like it."
This day just kept getting more and more interesting. Did I really want to do this? In a way, this was like being the ultimate reporter . I was literally disguising myself to get a story. Was this the moment I'd been working toward my whole life? I almost didn't like that I was being given a choice.
"Well, if you stay, it could be dangerous," he said after exhaling his smoke toward the ceiling. "I just want you to know that right now. But you could be an invaluable resource, please believe me."
Danger. International crime. Drugs. Sex trafficking. I felt like I was watching a TV crime drama and an entire se ason was being compressed into one episode, one fat, bulging, content stuffed episode. Will Marisa be able to take down a multi-billion dollar crime syndicate? Find out this week in the thrilling beginning and conclusion!
"Give me a light," I said as I grabbed a cigarette. Ramón obliged. I took a quick drag like I'd watched him do—and promptly started coughing. He started laughing.
"Cut that out," he said. He snatched the cigarette out of my hand and put it out in the ashtray. My eyes watered and my lungs burned. Stupid.
"Water, please," I begged.
Ramón walked out to fulfill my request. Had I really thought that smoking for the first time ever would calm my nerves?
He returned with two cups this time, one with coffee, and one with water. "I hope you can handle both of these." His snide
"You need to act like nothing's changed." The cigarette hovered close to Ramón 's lips, even when he wasn't taking a drag from it.
I sat there in that interrogation room, my legs crossed, my hands shaking. This wasn't getting any easier. "You mean I still have to—"
"Nothing changes," Ramón said. "You've got to remain the perfect girlfriend—no matter what that requires you to do."
This was confusion. This was uncertainty and discomfort. I had just been informed that my Dom was an international criminal, one that was invo lved with sex trafficking and probably murder .
"H as he murdered people?" I asked, my voice attempting to fill the gap of knowledge in my head.
"There have been disappearances of competitors that we can only assume were murder. He's very good at what he does, so the bodies never show up."
The bodies never show up. A chill ran down my spine. I was still convinced that I was going to wake up at any moment and scold myself for allowing this to get to me. The room stayed there, however, and so did Ramón .
" Marisa , are you all right?" He put out his cigarette in the ashtray.
"I think I was there when someone was killed," I said slowly, clenching my cup until the styrofoam started to crack. I had fallen into a daze and found myself speaking without a lot of thought.
"Did you tell anyone about this?"
"He just said it was his uncle. That he had dementia. That he visited once every few months."
"Dementia, huh?" Ramón laughed. "Roland doesn't have any surviving family members that we know of. We've been on him for years. I need to know if you told anyone, Marisa. Did you tell anyone?"
"I told Frederic," I said. "I like him so much. I thought I could trust him."
"Frederic, huh? We don't know a lot about t he guy, but we think he's into whatever Roland is. O nly been around for a couple of years, so he must be doing a good job because Roland goes through guys almost as fast as he does women."
The statement elicited a nervous laugh from me. Roland goes through guys almost as fast as women. I felt so immature giggling at it, but my unexpected circumstance had certainly weakened my composure. "Sorry," I said. "So what do you want me to do?"
Ramón pulled out another cigarette and lit it. "Before I go any further, I need to let you know that you don't have to do this if you don't want to. You can just leave and be done with it."
"Roland said his people would find me," I said.
"Is that so?" he asked. Smoke was again filling the air.
"I don't really know what it meant, but I didn't like it."
This day just kept getting more and more interesting. Did I really want to do this? In a way, this was like being the ultimate reporter . I was literally disguising myself to get a story. Was this the moment I'd been working toward my whole life? I almost didn't like that I was being given a choice.
"Well, if you stay, it could be dangerous," he said after exhaling his smoke toward the ceiling. "I just want you to know that right now. But you could be an invaluable resource, please believe me."
Danger. International crime. Drugs. Sex trafficking. I felt like I was watching a TV crime drama and an entire se ason was being compressed into one episode, one fat, bulging, content stuffed episode. Will Marisa be able to take down a multi-billion dollar crime syndicate? Find out this week in the thrilling beginning and conclusion!
"Give me a light," I said as I grabbed a cigarette. Ramón obliged. I took a quick drag like I'd watched him do—and promptly started coughing. He started laughing.
"Cut that out," he said. He snatched the cigarette out of my hand and put it out in the ashtray. My eyes watered and my lungs burned. Stupid.
"Water, please," I begged.
Ramón walked out to fulfill my request. Had I really thought that smoking for the first time ever would calm my nerves?
He returned with two cups this time, one with coffee, and one with water. "I hope you can handle both of these." His snide
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