Читать книгу Forbidden Fruit - Erica Spindler, Erica Spindler - Страница 27

As soon as Lily left the kitchen, Santos stood. He looked down at himself. “Dammit.” The old lady had thoroughly outsmarted him. How far could he get not only injured, but without his pants?

“Dammit,” he said again, picturing himself limping down River Road wrapped in a bath towel. He had to trust her. Right. He’d trusted plenty in the last year and a quarter, starting with those bumbling, good-for-nothing homicide detectives. So much for trust.

Heart pounding, Santos sat back down and waited, a feeling of doom settling over him like a dark cloud. He closed his eyes, certain that in one minute a police officer would walk through the door and haul his butt back to New Orleans.

She wasn’t going to do that to him, Santos thought suddenly and with certainty. This Lily talked tough, but she had kind eyes. Something about her made him trust her instinctively.

He called himself a fool. Whether he could trust her or not, he was trapped.

She hadn’t lied. A moment later his Aunt Lily escorted an elderly man into the kitchen. Instead of a badge and a gun, he was carrying a black medical bag.

And true to her promise, the doctor played along with their story about Todd being her nephew; he asked few questions about how he’d received his injuries or about anything else.