Free Fatal Divide by Jamie Jeffries Page A

let them in, and then Wanda took the lead by settling Alex in a love seat and taking the other place in it for herself. She sent Dylan a question with her eyes when she saw Alex. He shrugged. Her reactions weren’t in line with what he’d told her, but he didn’t have any idea what was wrong with her. Maybe Wanda could find out if he left the room.
    “Hector, could you spare me a brew?” he asked. Always taciturn, Hector nodded and led the way to the kitchen, leaving his wife in charge of the shell-shocked girl.
    “Alex, what is the matter with you? What did Dylan say?”
    With apparent difficulty, Alex pulled herself out of her blue funk to answer. “I think it’s over, Wanda. I don’t know how to process it.”
    “Over? What’s over?” Wanda asked.
    “Us. Dylan and me. I mean, I’m so glad he’ll have his brothers with him, but that won’t leave him any time for me. I wasn’t ready for it yet.”
    Dylan, listening out of sight in the dining room, clenched his fist. She thought he’d leave her when he got the boys? No, how could she think that? He started to go to her, but Wanda’s voice stopped him.
    “Alexis Ward, that boy loves you more than his life. If you think he’ll drop you just because he has a few more responsibilities, you’re dead wrong.”
    “But, Wanda, he said he needed space! Isn’t that what they always say? They need a little space, and then they’re gone.”
    “It isn’t like that, child. This has nothing to do with your mother.”
    In the dining room, Dylan straightened in surprise. Her mother? Alex had the same reaction, apparently. She was staring at Wanda as if she’d grown another head.
    “My mother? What does my mother have to do with it?”
    Wanda was shaking her head, seeming to have been thrown off balance by her own off-topic remark. She recovered quickly, though.
    “Never mind, I shouldn’t have said that. I can see there’s been some failure to communicate. Dylan needs some space because I’ve asked him to do something for me. It’s dangerous; he doesn’t want you involved because he’s worried you’ll get hurt. He doesn’t want to leave you, trust me on that.”
    Alex broke down then, sobbing into Wanda’s shoulder as the older woman patted her back. Dylan moved into the living room and approached, but Wanda shook her head. He took a seat in a nearby chair. Wanda motioned him to hand her a box of tissues, and pressed one into Alex’s hand.
    When she composed herself enough to stop sobbing and listen, Wanda explained her theory about her great-uncle’s death, though she continued to call him her grandfather. Alex’s eyes grew round as Wanda and Dylan took turns telling her they intended to find out which cartel was responsible for killing Alvarez, locate Dylan’s cousin, Jimmy, and spirit him away from cartel warfare. By the time they were finished, she’d completely recovered from her earlier meltdown and her eyes were sparkling. Dylan had a bad feeling about it.
    “What a story!” she cried when they fell silent.
    “A story you can’t print,” Dylan pointed out. “This is why we wanted to keep it from you. You can’t print any of this. It would endanger your life and mine, guarantee Jimmy’s death, and ruin Wanda’s career, at a minimum. Don’t you see, baby? Maybe when it’s all done, you can print a fictionalized version, but not while it’s happening.”
    Her eyes flashed. “I don’t print fiction. I print what people need to know. And if Los Reyes is actually at war with Gila, everyone needs to be aware of that.”
    “They’ve survived this long without being aware of it. Remember that you almost died, not once, but three times because a cartel enforcer thought you knew more than you did. I can’t do what I need to do for Wanda and still keep you safe. Please, Lexi, be reasonable.”
    Instead of answering him the way he wanted her to, Alex turned to Wanda. “Do you really advocate allowing Mexican nationals that belong to your