Read Promises to Keep for Free Online

“I’m scared.”
    â€œMe too, but it’s gonna be okay. Do you trust me?”
    She nodded. “Yes. Michael, I’m sorry I was so—”
    â€œShhh, I know. Ready?”
    She nodded again, watched him as he pulled his Kimber .45 off his hip, keeping it low and tight against his thigh. “Run,” he said, breathing the word softly, relieved when she turned without hesitation, her bare feet digging into the sand as she pushed herself into motion.
    As soon as she was clear, Michael brought the gun up. Levelling it at the trees, he squeezed off three shots in rapid succession, aiming into the canopy. If he was wrong—if it was an animal or one of the maids trying to sneak onto the private beach—they’d come out running. The silhouette startled but didn’t bolt … and it didn’t return fire either.
    He cut a fast glance at Christina. She was almost to the H2, legs pumping fast and hard against the soft give of the sand. He used the key fob to unlock the SUV’s rear hatch—it popped open just as she reached it. Christina shot him a fleeting look before she scrambled inside and shut the hatch behind her.
    Good girl.
    As soon as she was inside, he locked the SUV, relying on its armored body and bulletproof windows to keep her safe. He stood, making his way toward the stand of trees quickly. His vision zeroed in on the shadow huddled against the thick trunk of a tree. “ Los tres primeros fuero ndirigidos alto intenciona damente. Los tres siguientes no habrá .”
    The first three were aimed high intentionally. The next three won’t be.
    The shadow shifted mere seconds before it lost its courage and bolted deeper into the trees. He followed, dodging branches and clumps of bushes. “Stop,” he bellowed loudly, raising his gun, aiming it into the center of the shadow. He wasn’t sure if it was the tone or the actual word that did it, but the figure did as he said, stopping short.
    It was a woman.
    The cartels weren’t above using women and children as decoys and assassins. Her hands went out and up, fingers splayed wide.
    â€œ Date la vuelta. Despacio .”
    She did as he said, turning slowly. As soon as he got a good look at her face, he dropped the gun. It was Lydia Reyes, Christina’s mother. “Goddamn it,” he swore softly. “Mrs. Reyes, what are you doing here?” It felt strange calling her Mrs. Anything—she was hardly older than his baby sister, Frankie.
    â€œI just wanted to see her. Please, please don’t tell him,” she said, her eyes darting wildly from his face to the SUV behind him. “I just—he won’t let me see her.”
    â€œYou had breakfast with her this morning.” Michael ignored the twinge of guilt he felt when he said it. It was true—Lydia and Christina had breakfast together every morning, but they were under constant supervision. Reyes claimed that his wife was unstable. Michael was pretty sure it was all about control.
    â€œI know, but I never get to see her ,” she said, struggling for an explanation. It was unnecessary; he understood what she meant. Christina was like a living, breathing doll when her father was around. A pint-sized Stepford Wife. It was unsettling.
    Still he shook his head, shifting from side to side. “Mrs. Reyes—”
    â€œLydia. Please, call me Lydia.” She took a step forward, her dark eyes wild with desperation. “I know you care for—” She must’ve thought better of her words because she stopped and changed direction. “Please. Can I just talk to her?”
    Bad idea.
    He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s late. We’re getting ready to head back to the compound.”
    â€œOh, okay. I understand.” She dropped her hands to her sides and turned to leave. “Could you just … ” she said, turning her face in his direction. “Could you tell her that I miss