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Summary
"Find a way..."
The words haunt Ignacio Varga. Finding their way into his dreams, shaping his nightmares. He feels he could do anything for his father.
Lalo studied him, dark eyes inscrutable. Nacho refused to look away this time. Lalo took a sip of his drink, throat bobbing, moistening his lips in the process. “Would you say I am a bad boss, Ignacio?”
Nacho blinked a little. Lalo always made his name sound so rich and intimate, as though he savoured the taste on his tongue. He took a sip of his own drink. It was good stuff, smoky and pleasantly warm. He watched Lalo as he did so. His eyes were bottomless pits in the soft light.
Nacho was falling but this time it was his choice.
