99 Lies

“Okay, let me see it.” He holds his hand out.

  I open the text and set my phone in his palm.

  He frowns at the screen. “Maddie, this came in seven hours ago. Why didn’t you say anything then?”

  “I didn’t want it to be weird at lunch. With your friends.” Also, I’m not sure which lie my mystery stalker is referring to: the one about my uncle (which Luke knows), or about my cousin (which Luke doesn’t know). “Any idea how someone can send a text from a blocked number?”

  “There are instructions online.” He looks up from the phone. “You think this is about your uncle?”

  “What else could it be?” But as soon as I’ve said it, I feel bad about lying to Luke. Even indirectly. “Is there any way to find out who sent it?”

  “Not that I know of.” He hands me back my phone. “There are some third-party apps that can help you trace a blocked message, but they have to be already installed when you get the message. Want me to set one up for you, in case it happens again?”

  “No, that’s okay. It’s probably just some asshole messing with me. The downside of sudden fame.”

  “I’ll research a few tonight, in case you change your mind.” He stands, and I stand with him.

  “You don’t have to leave,” I say. Luke’s brows rise when I go up onto my toes and slide my arms around his neck. I press my mouth against his, but he’s too stiff to give in. “What’s wrong?”

  “Your mom’s right down the hall.”

  “I don’t think she’s even noticed I’m home.” On the bright side, she hasn’t asked about my blood sugar levels even once since the night we got back.

  “Maddie, we’re not going to make out in here just to get your mom’s attention.”

  “That’s not what this is.” I kiss him again, and this time his arms slide around my waist, pulling me closer. His hand slips beneath the back of my shirt, warm against my skin. But he still feels a little . . . distant. “You make me feel good.” I press closer to whisper against his neck, and his whole body tenses against mine. “I need to feel good right now. Please don’t make me justify that.”

  Luke leans down to kiss me, and I block out everything else. I feel only his mouth against mine. His hands on my skin. I open my mouth to deepen the kiss, and he groans. I slide my hands beneath his shirt, dragging the material up as my fingers skim the lean, surprisingly well-defined lines of his stomach, and—

  He steps back and his shirt falls into place. “We should stop.” He’s trying to do the right thing, but he doesn’t really want to stop.

  I don’t want to stop either. He’s the only thing keeping the world from crashing in on me, and the urge to cling to him is so strong that I can’t see past it.

  “You’re thinking too much.” I sit on the bed and try to pull him down with me, but he can’t be moved.

  “Not with your mom down the hall, Maddie. Honestly, I don’t think either of us is in a place to make a decision like this right now.” His conflicted gaze begs me to understand.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I suddenly feel awkward, and I’m not sure where to look, but he only smiles and takes my hand.

  “Don’t be. And I’m not saying no. I’m just saying ‘not yet.’”

  Not yet.

  I can work with that.

  You can’t keep us here forever.

  GENESIS

  “What’s the plan, Sebastián?” I demand when he opens the door. My uncle’s gone, and I have no idea when he’ll be back. “You can’t keep us here forever.”

  He sets a plate on the floor, his pistol aimed at my face. “If it were up to me, you’d be dead. Just like your boyfriend.”

  Indiana. I push grief aside.

  “You don’t know the plan, do you?” I stand, one hand propped on the rough wall for support. “You have no idea what’s going—”

  An explosion rocks the jungle, and the entire cabin quakes around us. The floor trembles beneath my feet.

  “¡Hijo de—” Sebastián spins toward the front room, where one of my uncle’s men is peeling back the cardboard taped over the front window. Light pours into the cabin, but it’s a jumping, flickering brightness.

  The jungle is on fire. Again.

  Adrenaline shoots through me. The explosion echoes in my head.

  “¡Vamos!” Sebastián shouts. “¡Llama a David!” Sebastián turns back to me, cocking his pistol.

  “Stay put, princesa.” He slams the door.

  My pulse races so fast my head swims. I’ve forgotten about the sandwich on the floor. I scoot over to the crack in the wall and press my face against it, desperate for more information.

  Sebastián stands at the front of the cabin, gun in hand, staring out the open door. What’s visible of the jungle flickers with the reflection of firelight. Sebastián’s posture is tense. He’s sent everyone else to investigate the explosion.

  I won’t get a better chance to fight him. To escape.

  “Sebastián!” I shout. “What’s going on?”

  “Hey!” Holden yells from his room. “Was that a bomb? Are we under attack?”

  We? Which side does Holden think he’s on?

  Through the crack in the wall, I see Sebastián twist toward our rooms. But then his jaw clenches and he turns back to the jungle without a word.

  “Answer me!” I stand and pound on the door. “How close is the fire?”

  When he doesn’t reply, I kick the door. The whole thing shudders, but again it holds. Then, out of desperation, I try the knob.

  It turns.

  I stare, stunned, as the door opens an inch with a soft creak. In the chaos, Sebastián forgot to lock it.

  Through the slim crack, I see him staring out the front of the cabin. He hasn’t noticed that my door is open.

  I take a deep breath, trying to assess my physical state. I’ve gone too long without real food and rest. It won’t do me any good to sneak out of my room if I can’t take him down. I need a weapon.

  Heart thudding in my ears, I push the door open a little wider and scan what I can see of the cabin for a gun left unattended in the confusion. There aren’t any, but Sebastián’s folding chair sits against the wall next to my door. Lying on the seat is his satellite phone.

  I hesitate for just a second. If I attack him and fail to get away, he’ll lock me up again and I’ll have lost my shot at the phone. But if the other men get back before I finish a phone call, I’ll have lost my chance to escape.

  My arms still feel heavy and I’m light-headed. I’m going to make a break for it, but I’m probably going to fail. So first, I grab the phone and slip back into my room.

  I leave the door barely cracked open so that I can see out with one eye. Then I take a big bite from the sandwich still lying on the plate in the middle of the floor and chew as I dial the hotline number Maddie recited on Neda’s webshow.

  1-555-GENESIS.

  He would never . . .

  MADDIE

  The phone rings, and I roll over to grab it from my nightstand as I try to shake off sleep, hoping it’s Luke. Hoping he’s changed his mind and wants to come over. I hate being alone in the apartment with my mom. It’s too quiet. I can hear her crying.

  My phone screen shows only the clock and the date—no incoming call. Yet something is still ringing.

  Shock pulls me upright. I’m instantly awake. The hotline phone.

  I scramble off my bed and grab the purse hanging over my doorknob. Pawing past ChapStick, tissues, and the keys to my mom’s car, I grab the prepaid phone, and it vibrates in my hand. The number on the screen is international; there are way too many digits for a US number.

  I press the button to accept the call. “Hello?”

  “Maddie?”

  “Genesis?” I clutch the phone so tightly I can’t feel my fingers. “Where are you? Are you okay? Are you free?”

  “No. I’m in a cabin somewhere in the jungle. Sebastián’s here, and his men caught Holden too.”

  “Your dad has men ready to go
on a moment’s notice. Where in the jungle are you?”

  “I don’t know.” Her words are rushed, each syllable clipped short and so soft I can hardly hear her. “But something just exploded, and I can see flames through the window. I’m gonna run.”

  “Okay. Flames should be visible from the helicopter. I’ll tell your dad. Let me get my other phone—”

  “Wait!” she snaps in another fierce whisper. “Your dad’s here.”

  “What?” I’ve misheard, obviously. So why does my chest suddenly feel so tight?

  “He’s alive, and he’s here, and—”

  “He’s alive?” My legs fold beneath me, and suddenly I’m sitting on the floor of my bedroom, staring at nothing. At everything. “Sebastián took him? Has he been held captive this whole time?” For a year?

  “No—”

  “Oh my God.” My brain feels like an engine revving up, thoughts flying too fast to truly sink in. Could I really get my dad back? “Let me talk to him. I swear we’re going to get you both out of there.”

  “Maddie.” Genesis is still whispering, but now she sounds . . . strange. “Your dad’s not a hostage. He’s . . . a terrorist. Sebastián’s boss.” She clears her throat softly. “He’s the one who had us kidnapped in the first place.”

  I blink, trying to understand. “What the hell are you talking about?” She’s delusional. Nothing else makes sense.

  “Your dad faked his own death so he could make some kind of statement to the world. Those were his bombs on my dad’s cruise ship. But I don’t have time to—”

  “No . . .” I want to laugh, because surely this is a joke. Only it’s not funny. “No!” I shout into the phone, and now I want to throw it. “What is wrong with you?” Maybe she’s been brainwashed. Maybe Sebastián’s making her say this, with his machete at her throat.

  “Mad—” Her voice cuts off with a thud, then a gasp of pain, and I jump. A loud clatter splinters my thoughts as her phone hits the floor.

  “What have you done, sobrina?” The new voice sounds distant, as if it’s speaking from across the room. Except that it’s not new at all. It’s a voice I’ve known all my life.

  “Papi?” I shout into the phone. My bedroom blurs as tears fill my eyes. There’s no answer. I hear only a click, then the silence of a dead line.

  I blink, uncomprehending. Then the truth crashes over me.

  The phone slips from my hand. I scoot away from it until my back hits the far wall. I can still hear the voice echoing in my head.

  That man may have sounded like my father. He may even have Genesis fooled. But I know better. My papi would never.

  He would never . . .

  He would never . . .

  I should beg for my life.

  GENESIS

  “What did you tell her?” Uncle David demands.

  “The truth.” I have no idea how much Maddie understood. Or how much she’s willing to believe, considering that she idolized her father.

  The weight of his rage feels like a boulder poised to crush me. I scoot away from him, my shorts snagging on the rough floor. Whatever frayed family bond has been keeping me alive has snapped. Today I’ve taken his son and his daughter from him, and he suddenly seems willing to do the same to my father.

  I should apologize. I should offer to call her back and swear I was lying. I should beg for my life.

  “She deserves the truth.” I don’t know where the words are coming from. “She wanted to be just like you.”

  The blow comes fast and hard. Pain explodes in my face, and I crash to the floor in a heap of bruised limbs, but I’m up in an instant.

  I can’t even remember how to back down.

  My uncle takes one heavy step forward, and even if I wanted to retreat, I have nowhere to go. “You—”

  Sebastián bursts into the room. “Joseph went for the Jeep. We have to go, David. That explosion will bring the army down on us like a hammer.”

  Uncle David turns to him, still clutching the satellite phone. His brows rise in silent question.

  Sebastián’s focus flicks from his phone to me. Understanding dawns, and he steps back, jaw clenched. “I don’t know—”

  My uncle follows him out and latches the door. I block out the yelling and the angry thuds while I scarf down the rest of the sandwich—Sebastián deserves whatever he’s getting—and when they stop, I look through the crack in the wall. The front door of the cabin still stands open, and now I can hear the blaze crackling.

  “Pack up fast,” Uncle David says. “Then tie up our guests and get moving. I’ll meet you there.” He storms out of the cabin. A second later, Sebastián follows, clutching his side with one hand and stuffing a rag to his bloody nose with the other.

  “Holden!” I shout as I head for the wall our rooms share. “Did you—”

  Glass shatters as I press my eye to the crack in the wall between us. Holden stands in front of a broken window—I hadn’t even realized he had a window—with several hunks of broken glass scattered around his feet, though most of it has fallen outside. He’s studying the window as if he’ll crawl through it, but I can tell at a glance that he won’t fit.

  Footsteps approach my room. I go still. Sebastián can’t be back already.

  My heart thumps as the dead bolt slides free. The door swings open and a backlit figure stands in the doorway. He reaches for the switch outside my door, and the overhead light blinds me. But I would recognize his blurry silhouette anywhere.

  “Indiana!” I throw myself at him. “What are you doing here?” I push hair back from his forehead, where a large gash at his hairline is swollen in the center of a huge purple lump. My chest aches with relief, my thoughts swirling in confusion.

  “I came to rescue the princess.”

  You’re all we have left.

  MADDIE

  My uncle’s phone rings five times, then goes to voice mail. Damn it. “Uncle Hernán, Genesis just called the hotline phone. She said there’s been an explosion in the jungle and she’s going to run. Send your men in now. Have them look for fire.”

  I hang up and stare at my phone. I just spoke to her. How can there be no way for me to help her?

  Dad.

  I crawl across the floor and clutch the hotline phone to my chest. I could call the international number back. I could talk to my father.

  I could demand answers.

  I need to know why he spent my entire life lying to me about who he was. Why he chose terrorism over Ryan and me. Why he had us kidnapped at gunpoint.

  My stomach roiling with nerves, I tap the international number to call it back. My head spins while the phone rings in my ear. I’m about to hear my dead father’s voice. I’m going to yell at him until I lose my voice, then hope to God he calls me Maddie-cakes and explains how this is all a huge misunderstanding and he’s not actually responsible for hundreds of deaths.

  That somehow, despite the evidence, he’s still the man who took Ryan and me to serve at soup kitchens and build houses for the poor. An activist trying to make life better for those who can’t stand up for themselves.

  But then the ringing in my ear becomes a jarring, discordant series of notes, followed by an automated voice telling me that the number I’m calling is no longer in service.

  He disconnected the number.

  He disappeared again. I don’t even get a good-bye.

  I throw the hotline phone across the room, where it thumps off the far wall. For several minutes, all I can do is inhale calm and exhale rage, trying to spit out the poison churning in my gut.

  Somehow, knowing he’s still alive somewhere in the jungle hurts worse than thinking he was dead. When he was dead, he was my hero. He was a martyr who died trying to help people. I wanted to be just like the man I thought he was. But that man was a lie.

  The truth is that my father is a monster.

  Frustration and adrenaline firing through me, I head out of my room and down the short hallway. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath as I pass
Ryan’s door until I exhale. The headstone catalogues are still spread across the kitchen table, pinned in place by a half-full cup of straight rum, but my mother is gone.

  Then I hear her voice. She’s on the phone in her room.

  I can’t tell her about my dad.

  Yet somehow, I’m standing outside her door, my right hand raised to knock, the hotline phone once again clutched in my left. I don’t even know how I got here.

  “Hernán, please answer your phone. It’s not about the money.” My mother isn’t so much speaking as sobbing into my uncle’s voice mail. “We need you here. You can’t miss the funeral.”

  My hand falls to my side.

  “Please. You’re all we have left.” She’s begging now, and I feel sick inside. “Come home.”

  I turn and go back down the hall. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I have her glass in my hand. I throw the rum back in one swallow. It burns going down. But it’s not enough.

  The bottle is at the top of the coat closet, where Mom started keeping it when Ryan went into rehab. As if having to reach up high would stop an alcoholic. I grab it on my way back to my room.

  I drop the hotline phone on my nightstand and curl up on my bed with the bottle. I wish Luke were here. I wish I could lay my head on his shoulder and breathe him in and think about the jungle.

  Strange, that I would think about being stuck in the jungle with a murderer on my heels with any sort of nostalgia, but things were clear out there. I knew who I could count on and who was trying to kill me.

  I dig my cell from my pocket and call Luke. While the phone rings, I turn the bottle up and take another burning gulp of rum.

  “Hello? Maddie?” Luke sounds sleepy. “What’s wrong?”

  “Can you come over?” I take another swig. “Please.”

  Springs creak as he gets out of bed. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  We can’t leave him.

  GENESIS