Truth or Lies?, A. Gomez [reading an ebook .TXT] 📗

“It’s not me, Isabel!” he snapped. “How can that thought even cross your mind? If it were me, you would be dead already. I’ve had so many opportunities to kill you or make you disappear!”

“Well, I’m sorry!” I snapped back. “So many people have been surprising me lately and not necessarily in a good way. What am I supposed to think?”

He sighed loudly. “It’s all right. I can understand how you feel.” He was driving better, not jerking the car as much.

“Er…speaking of Josh, do you think you could ask him where my gun is?”

His eyes got wide and his jaw dropped. “Did I just hear you say your gun? You own a gun?”

“Uh, yes, I thought you knew. I thought all the agents knew.” I felt embarrassed for not knowing where it was.

“Why and how would Josh know where it is?”

My stomach clenched, I hoped I didn’t get Josh in trouble. “I, uh, kind of gave it to him to use that night we thought someone was trying to break in my house. He didn’t have his with him and mine was in my nightstand.”

“Uh huh.” His face was serious, contemplating what I said. “You know how to handle a weapon?”

“Yes, sir, I do. I’ve been shooting guns and going huntin’ with my Daddy and brothers since I was in elementary school. We still go huntin’ together when we can. Although I haven’t fired a gun since deer season last year…you know, I take that back. I just discharged Josh’s gun at the hospital. I put three bullets in one of those bad men’s chests that was lying in the hallway. I thought I’d be more upset for doing that…” My mind trailed off to the man I had shot. I stopped talking.

“That was you?” Davis was surprised. “I thought Josh did that,” he said, again sounding surprised.

I didn’t answer or react. We were almost home and the last thing I wanted to do was think about Josh. My arm was starting to ache and it hurt to move. We finally got to my street and thankfully there were a lot of parking spots close to the house. Davis got out and hurried to my side to help me out. I was grateful since my arm was starting to throb more. We got to the front door and I couldn’t find my house key. In my haste to leave this morning I must have only grabbed my car key. Could this day get any worse?

“Davis.” I looked at him with pleading eyes. “Is there any way you can break into my house?” Davis started laughing. He wasn’t just laughing, he was guffawing…and very loudly. The door started opening, he pushed me behind him, drew his gun and kicked the door the rest of the way open, pointing the gun at whoever was behind it.

“Ouch!” It was a girl’s voice. I peeked under Davis’ arm and saw that it was my cousin from Spain.

“Belín!” I squealed with delight. “What are you doing here? When did you get in?” I ran to her and gave her a big hug. She kissed me on both cheeks, rubbing her head where the door hit her.

“I just got in about an hour ago and tried calling you to see if you could pick me up from the airport but you didn’t answer, so I took a taxi.” Everyone always found her charming, not just men but women as well. Her Spanish accent was so attractive.

She was grinning and gazing at Davis. “¿Quién es el guapo con vos?” she asked, “Who is the handsome man with you?” She threw me off guard with her question. I never really looked at Davis that way. I paused for a second, turned to eye him and nodded in assertion. Yes, I supposed he was cute with his dark hair and blue eyes, and he was now sporting a five o’clock shadow.

“Oh, Belín this is…” and I looked at Davis, just then realizing I didn’t know his first name. “Davis, I’m so sorry but it never occurred to me to ask you what your first name is.”

“It’s Benjamin, my name is Benjamin John Davis,” he replied, politely extending his hand so she could shake it. She took his hand and planted a kiss on both of his cheeks as well. By the look on his face, I thought she took him by surprise. I giggled.

“I am very happy to meet you Benjamin.” She grinned widely, not taking her eyes off of him.

“Davis is, uh…,” I didn’t really know how to describe my relationship with him to her. “He’s assigned to the same case I’m working on right now. He’s one of the FBI agents on it.” Her eyes lit up, still looking at him. “Davis, this is my Spanish cousin, her name is also Isabel but the family calls her Belín and they call me Isabel Grace, just so there’s no confusion. She’s a journalist and is always chasing a story in some war-torn region or in a third world country. She’s never really anywhere just to visit or relax,” I offered. “If she’s there, or here for that matter, that means there’s a story. I don’t know how she does it.” I gave her another kiss on the cheek. I was actually glad she couldn’t stop staring at Davis: this way she didn’t notice all the dried blood on my clothes.

Belín jumped right in and started firing questions at him. Must be the journalist in her, but I thought Davis was happy to answer her as best he could. He peppered her with questions as well so neither of them was at a loss for conversation.

“Belín, why don’t you and Davis, I mean Ben, make us a snack and open some wine while I clean up? Yes?”

“Oh, yes,