Born Sinner by Cora Kenborn

Chapter Four

Lola

I wakein my apartment to the sound of my teeth chattering, each clap of enamel chipping away at my brain. Prying my eyes open, I wince at the sharp haze filtering through my lashes.

Fuck, it’s bright.

I lift my arm to block out the sunlight, but the damn thing feels like a sack of bricks. Since gravity is waging war against me, I give up, letting it flop back down. Big mistake. The moment it lands across the bridge of my nose, I let out a hoarse cry as dozens of sharp knives plunge into my skull.

“What the hell?” My voice is barely audible. Rough. Brittle. Like my Tío Mateo sounded after taking a bullet to the chest a couple of years ago.

But I didn’t get shot. This is New Jersey, not Mexico City.

Blowing out a queasy breath, I dig my elbow into the mattress and sit up, my body accompanying my chattering teeth in a symphony of tremors. When a sudden wave of nausea hits, I swallow hard, unsure if I’m going to black out or vomit all over my bed.

Breathe, Lola.

Dios mío,I must have had more to drink than I thought.

As my spinning head settles, I recall the single Bacardi and Coke I nursed all night. I was reckless, not stupid. I only allowed myself one drink, but I remember stumbling up a flight of stairs and then down a long hallway.

Someone was with me…

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Argh, fuck!” Grabbing my head to stop the sound of my alarm from shattering my eardrums, I roll over, a sharp pain radiating across my abdomen as I search for my phone. “Shut up!” I growl. Dragging it off the nightstand, I hit all the buttons at once, praying one will stop the incessant noise.

Finally, silence.

Tossing it on the mattress, I flop back onto my pillow, when it hits me.

“Shit! Santi…” I’m supposed to meet my brother for lunch. Adrenaline spikes through my veins as I throw my comforter across the bed. It isn’t until my feet hit the floor that I realize I’m naked.

Dread fills my chest as Iforcepieces of last night from behind the distorted opaque window clouding my mind. How did I get home?

Slowly, more jagged memories work their way out of the fog and into the light.

No. I couldn’t have.

Troy Davis.

His hands.

A bed.

“Trust me, baby. I’m gonna treat this pussy good.”

Trust me…

“No…” I breathe again, searching between my legs for signs of my worst fear. But there’s no blood on my thighs, and I don’t feel violated.

That’s when a dark crimson stain catches my eye. The one smeared across the inside of my white comforter. It mocks me, daring me to come closer.

So, I do.

But as I twist toward the stained blanket, I draw in a sharp breath as another stinging pain shoots from my hip. Slowly, I glance down to see what could’ve caused such an ache.

What I see turns my blood to ice.

I’m bleeding all right, but not from a dick. Midway between my navel and left hip bone, someone carved a letter into my skin.

No, not someone. Troy Davis.

A fucking S.

I scream out in anger and frustration. I don’t have to guess what that letter stands for. It speaks for itself.

Slut.

That bastard has no idea what he’s done. One word—one whisper from me—and I can’t count the number of ways he’d suffer, or the pieces of him that would end up scattered across all five boroughs.

And then I’d end up right back in Mexico behind the iron bars I just escaped.

This is why I’ll be keeping Troy’s assault and desecration to myself, as will every single one of my friends if they know what’s good for them.

As far as they know, I’m María Diaz, the child of Cuban immigrants. They smile their plastic smiles, flip their blonde hair, and link arms with me, all while pretending they don’t know exactly what I’m capable of.

They do. They just choose to lock it behind their gated suburban lies.

Fear is a deceptive spiritual guide.

Wrapping the sheet around myself, I shove everything away to deal with later. Always later. I can’t afford to let the great Santi Carrera, my big brother and the heir apparent of my father’s empire, see weakness.

Because God forbid I have a say in anything.

Santi left me alone in Mexico City two years ago to come to America and take control of our family’s New Jersey’s cocaine distribution. No one asked me what I wanted.

Stay in Mexico and marry a nice boy, Lola.

Well, screw that.

Since my brother left, I’ve moved heaven and earth to follow him—which includes somehow convincing my overprotective parents to let me attend college in the heart of a warzone.

Making my way to the bathroom, I turn on the shower full blast. Before the water is even hot, I step inside, letting it wash away my sins. Even the ones I don’t regret.

At least they were mine to make.

Control and freedom are two words I’ve craved but have been denied for years. Equal opportunity may be a right in the States, but things aren’t so cut and dry where I’m from.

Not that women don’t hold power in my world. I’m just not part of that exclusive club.

I’m Valentin Carrera’s daughter. The king’s innocent cielito—his little sky. I’m much too fragile to be tainted by the blood staining the hands of every member of my family. Ay Dios mío,I couldn’t even cross the border and go to college without two huge bodyguards and my brother lurking behind every damn tree.

Maybe that’s why I did it.

After stepping out of the shower, my mind spins like a Tilt-a-Whirl as I rush to throw on a pair of loose-fitting shorts and the least wrinkled shirt I can find.

I bite my lip while towel-drying my hair. My rebellion last night was stupid, but exhilarating. I’ve kept a low profile since arriving on campus, so when my friend, Avery, suggested we blow off some steam, I was all in.

Party? Hell yeah. Booze? Bring it. Rich boys? Even better.

Then she said his name.

Sam Colton.

Slipping on a pair of sandals, I grab my phone and car keys and rush out the door, my hangover and stinging skin already forgotten. Instead, my head fills with a pair of watchful dark eyes.

Eyes so black I’m not sure there’s a beginning or end. Just infinite night.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I keep a check on the time as I race across the parking lot toward my white BMW. I’m halfway there when a cool breeze licks down the back of my neck, causing my steps to falter.

My father’s words ring like a church bell in my ears. Always trust your instincts, cielito.

“Is someone there?”

Of course, no one answers. The majority of the campus is still sleeping away their hangovers. Still, my feet refuse to move, cemented to the ground by a fatal curiosity.

I know all about the statistics of campus assault. I’m a prime target.

Young girl alone…

No one around to hear her cries for help…

It’s a thought that should terrify me, but it doesn’t. It excites me. There’s something familiar in the air. Something forbidden and dangerous, yet tantalizing and enticing.

Tightening my hold around the key fob, I hover my thumb over the panic button. “That’s it,” I mutter, shaking my head. “No more alcohol.”

After settling behind the wheel, I lock the door and let out an unsettled breath. I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched.

Stalked.

Hunted.

As if my every move is a choreographed step in someone else’s dance.

“You’re losing it, Carrera.” Starting the ignition, I turn to back out of the parking spot, when the wound on my stomach stings under the crude bandage I fashioned earlier. The corners of my mouth turn down, my momentary euphoria tanking at the bleak reminder.

I should’ve suggested we go to another party, but I didn’t. Even though I knew better. Even though I’ve been cautioned.

“Stay away from Sam Colton, chaparrita. He’s dangerous.”

I rolled my eyes when my brother issued his warning. How could the hottest, most popular boy on campus be the most hazardous to my health? What the hell did he know about him that I didn’t?

Temptation is a baited trap. Last night, I crept closer, knowing the second I touched the forbidden treat, a hair trigger would snap my neck.

But there’s something about him… Something so mesmerizing it’s worth the risk.

Danger is the most addictive drug, and Sam has me hooked.