It can’t be.
There’s no way it’s true.
Staring at what she wrote again, I read it over and over, turning it in my head to try to make sense of it somehow.
I think Gerardo’s involved in what happened to Nate.
My head spins as I try to process. No. She has to be wrong. Gerardo has always been like a father to us. There’s no way he’d do anything to hurt us. The more I think about it, the more I can’t reconcile the image of the man who looked after me and my brother—the one who was a mentor, a protector—with the idea that he set Nate up.
Why? Is he the murderer? Is he covering up for one?
Grabbing the pad, I write back.
No way. What proof do you have?
Her gaze darkens as she grabs it back and writes something in return.
I found things. His financials link to theDeLucas. He’s been involved for years, and it’s a lot of money. He’s dirty. No doubt in my mind.
No. Nonono. This can’t be happening.
My heart sinks into my stomach, the world around me suddenly spinning. If this is true, if Gerardo is really behind all of this, everything I’ve believed is a lie.
I clutch the notepad, barely able to breathe as I scribble another question.
Why would he set Nate up?
Maybe it has something to do with Nate’s dead partner. He was involved with DeLuca too. Maybe Gerardo thought he was a threat.
The room seems to shrink as I stare at the paper. Her reply makes so much sense.
But there’s just no way!
I swallow, my throat dry.
I need you to be sure, because there’s no coming back from this.
I am sure.
Her eyes lock with mine.
But I’ll find more if that’swhat you need.
My hands curl, needing to be back in the gym, to punch something. It’s been so damn long since I’ve done that. I take a moment before writing.
Keep me posted.
She takes the notepad, tucking it into her bag as she stands, leaving quietly, while I’m left alone with the storm of thoughts swirling in my head.
I can’t believe it. Gerardo, the man who shaped so much of my life, the one who’s been like family to me, could be the very one who betrayed Nate. Betrayed us all.
The panic begins to rise inside me, sharp and suffocating, and I sit there for a few minutes, trying to steady my breath, trying to hold myself together.
But it’s hard. It’s so hard.
The truth is a heavy thing, and right now, it’s about to crush me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
