Stone Cold

by Kristi Belcamino

  “You can take off the shirt now, sweetie,” Dante said.

  She was trembling slightly. She hadn’t spoken a word since the bedroom door had opened, revealing her standing there. It freaked me the fuck out.

  Blocking our way was a shiny, new Dodge Ram.

  “Dante, I’ve got an idea.”

  Twenty minutes later we were going down the road. I was in the Dodge with three dead bodies flopping around beside me. Every time I took a corner a little too sharply, the bodies shifted. I screamed every time the old woman’s arm touched mine. But if we kept the bodies inside Dante’s house there would be too many questions.

  I had already destroyed his life enough as it was.

  But sitting in a truck with three dead bodies was the stuff of fucking nightmares.

  It was way worse than carrying the bodies from the house and hoisting them into the truck. Rosalie had been instructed to close her eyes the entire time. I’d checked and she was leaning against a window with her eyes closed. She was a good girl. She was feisty and rebellious in all the right ways but knew to listen when we were serious. Unlike other kids her age who thought it was funny to disobey their parents, in Rosalie’s short life, she had learned that listening to those she trusted could mean the difference between life and death.

  It took us about forty minutes to get to the spot. It was still dark, so the road leading up to the rocky outcrop overlooking the Pacific was deserted. I took the Dodge off-road as far as I could before I hopped out. There was enough of an incline that if I put the truck in neutral and then pushed it, it would roll off the cliff. I did so but couldn’t get the truck to budge. I looked over at Dante. He hopped out and, between the two of us, we were able to start the truck rolling.

  We waited to get into my Jeep until we saw the truck reach the edge of the cliff and then tumble down the rocks until it landed in the water and began to sink. It floated for a few minutes and then submerged. I’d cracked the windows to let the water into the cab.

  It wasn’t until we were on the freeway heading south that I spoke again. I’d been watching Rosalie’s head in the rearview mirror for a few miles. She kept falling asleep and jerking back awake. Django had his head on her lap and was softly snoring. When her head had finally lolled to one side and her mouth dropped open in deep sleep, I spoke.

  “I don’t know where to go now,” I said, hating the whine in my voice. “Your house…Your beautiful house, Dante.”

  “It’s just stuff. That can be replaced.”

  “But I brought those psychos there. It’s my fault.”

  “Gia, we’re famiglia. Maybe not by blood, but in every other way. This is what family does. Nothing matters except that the three of us got out of there alive.”

  “Where will you go? What will you do?”

  “We’ll figure all that out.”

  “What about your restaurant?”

  “Lars can handle it. I already texted him that some crazy people were after me and that I had to go into hiding. He has power of attorney. He can handle anything while I’m away.”

  “Maybe we should turn around and head for Canada,” I said. “Get out of the country or something.”

  “I have a better idea,” Dante said.

  “Pray tell?”

  “We should leave the country. But let’s go the other way.”

  Mexico.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Serious as a heart attack. Where else would be the least likely place for us to hide?”

  I frowned. “Right in the belly of the beast?”

  “Damn right. But maybe not the belly, maybe just a limb. Like the left arm.”

  “Baja? As soon as we crossed the border, we’d be sitting ducks,” I said. “They’d take Rosalie and kill me and you before we made it to Tijuana.”

  As soon as I said that, I quickly glanced in the rearview mirror. Rosalie was still asleep, thank God.

  “Didn’t you say that Eva has a place in Cabo?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Here’s the plan…”

  Dante’s plan made sense. Somewhat. We’d stop by my friend Darling’s salon to grab some fake passports she’d made for us a while ago. Darling’s hair salon was her baby, but she made the big money in providing false documents to people eager to escape desperate situations. That usually meant women escaping abuse. A few weeks ago, she’d told me she had made fake documents for me, Rosalie, Dante, and a few other of our friends. Just in case.

  We’d also leave Django with her. That dog loved her.

  Then we’d fly to Cabo San Lucas. We would fly separately. Me alone. Dante with Rosalie—his “daughter.” We’d meet at Eva’s condo. If we could reach her and get her permission.

  The plan involved a lot of moving pieces, but it might work.

  “Let’s start making some calls,” I said. “I’ll start with Eva.”

  I had kept her black business card embossed with a spade in my wallet near my driver’s license since she’d first left it for me. The other side had nothing but a phone number printed in raised red letters the color of blood.

  She picked up immediately.

  “Gia?”

  “I need your help.”

  14

  Nico was having a hard time getting back to sleep. He’d fallen into a deep slumber right after an epic lovemaking session with Valeria but then startled awake about a half hour before. He should’ve heard from his crew in California already. He checked his phone again. Nothing.

  Valeria stirred beside him, making a soft mewling sound like a kitten.

  He frowned. He hadn’t intended for her to stay the night. He didn’t feel that intimately about her. He respected her and enjoyed her company—and her body—but he’d been with the same woman for fifteen years. He wasn’t ready to commit or settle down. He’d told her just that tonight and she’d simply smiled and said, “Oh, honey, I’m too old and settled in my ways to want more than just this.”

  And yet, here she was in his bed, snuggling up to him in the night.

  He’d have to insist they take a short break. Her actions belied her words, and he didn’t want her to get hurt. Besides, the more she was around and the more she knew about his business, the more vulnerable they both were.

  She had a full, busy life away from him.

  If his enemies found out he cared about her, she would become an easy target. Her work at the zoo made her vulnerable to all sorts of attacks—unlike him in his secluded enclave.

  At least with Sylvia, he’d been able to send armed guards to escort her wherever her many exploits took her. Once, even that had almost not been enough. She’d been on the beach in Rio when a loco member of the Rivas Cartel had come screaming out of the waves wearing a snorkeling mask and wielding a huge knife. He’d charged Sylvia, shouting something about revenge and had made it within a foot of her before one of the guards had stopped him with a bullet between his eyes.

  Extracting Sylvia and his men out of the country without a big scandal or police investigation had been a clusterfuck of international payoffs and negotiations.

  Finally, at dawn, Nico dialed one of his men in California.

  “We’ve lost contact.” The voice was wobbly. This man, a newer soldier in the cartel, probably thought Nico would punish him for it. Nico waited for the man to continue. “I have a man on his way to the location as we speak. I should hear back within the hour.”

  Two hours later, while he and Valeria were in the middle of round two, his phone dinged. Fifteen minutes later, he reached over to his phone.

  “Mission failed. Soldiers KIA.”

  At the same time, his phone rang. It was Anthony.

  “The truck is pinging in the waters of the Pacific. We could try to retrieve it, but—”

  “I don’t care about them. Where is the girl?”

  Silence.

  Nico closed his eyes in frustration.

  Valeria reached over and stroked the top of his hand.

  He resis
ted the urge to jerk his hand away. If anything, he prided himself on his ability to remain cool and collected under pressure.

  Only those who were weak reacted with anger or frustration. Powerful men like himself had fierce control over all emotions and acted accordingly.

  His eyes snapped open.

  His words were calm when he spoke next.

  “Call me when you find the girl.”

  He hung up without waiting for an answer.

  “Everything okay?” Valeria asked.

  He kissed her brow.

  “Let’s go eat breakfast.”

  15

  Thirty minutes after landing in Cabo, my driver pulled into a gated compound in the rolling hills above the Cabo San Lucas marina.

  Tall, steel gates led to a paved driveway and a windowless and doorless expanse of stucco that reared up three stories.

  “Follow the footpath to the entrance,” he said. “The door is unlocked. There is a sheet inside with all the information you will need, including my phone number. I live nearby, so feel free to call if you need anything whatsoever.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I waited until he’d slipped out the small door to the side of the gate before I started toward the paved path that led around the side of the house. It was lined with tropical plants. A three-story high stucco wall was to my right and the house was to my left. As I rounded a corner, the path opened up to a backyard with a pool. The house was lined with windows on this side and the back.

  The Mexican sun was strong, and the shimmering turquoise water in the pool beckoned. I saw Rosalie leaning down and swirling her tiny hand in the water. She and Dante had arrived just before me.

  “Hey!” I said. “Why don’t we go see if we can find something to swim in and come back out. Maybe with snacks? Who’s hungry?”

  “Me!” Dante said, coming outside the house.

  Rosalie jumped up and grinned. I was relieved to see she was back to her normal self, seemingly taking in last night’s events with aplomb.

  The inside of the house was simple but cozy and comfortable. Sleek lines and neutral-colored furniture paired with brilliantly colored paintings on the wall and an abundance of tropical plants. There were four bedrooms upstairs. One was clearly the master bedroom where Eva stayed. A massive bed with a black leather headboard and stark white comforter dominated the room. There was little else inside.

  Rosalie and I took a guest room with two twin beds. The bedspreads were a weave of bright pinks, turquoises, oranges, and greens. A colorful, framed print of Frida Kahlo took up one wall, and Mexican rag dolls in colorful dresses sat center stage on the low wardrobe. Rosalie started to play with them immediately, making them talk to each other.

  Dante took the room beside ours. It was outfitted with a queen bed with a bright red coverlet and small, Mexican tile mirrors covering one wall.

  “Gia?” it was Rosalie. “What do I swim in?”

  I frowned. I could wear my black bra and panties and be fine, but I worried Rosalie would be self-conscious swimming in anything less than an actual bathing suit.

  I opened the closet doors and smiled. Eva had thought of everything.

  There were five colorful sundresses in Rosalie’s size. The closet also contained two pairs of jeans in my size and two gray long-sleeve T-shirts like those I favored.

  A pair of Adidas in my size were also on the floor of the closet along with some ballet flats for Rosalie.

  “Look in the dresser drawers,” I said.

  Almost immediately, Rosalie exclaimed. “There are two bathing suits that I think are my size!”

  She was so excited I couldn’t help but smile.

  “And a black one for you!”

  There was a knock on the door.

  Dante stood there in red swim trunks.

  “Who wants to learn how to do a cannonball?”

  “Me!” Rosalie said.

  “Go get dressed!” I said, pointing at the attached bathroom. “We’ll meet you downstairs.”

  I wanted a few minutes alone with Dante downstairs.

  I hadn’t told him the exact details yet, but my plan was for him to basically be Rosalie’s nanny here at Eva’s house while I went after her father.

  16

  I was dozing in a lounge chair by the pool, soothed by the sounds of Dante and Rosalie splashing in the water beside me—giggles, shouts, and squeals of delight creating the most blessed soundtrack I could imagine.

  For the first time, it struck me that in all senses of the word, I was a mother.

  And it felt good. Better than good. It felt amazing.

  Suddenly the world grew silent, and I sat up and opened my eyes, alarmed.

  That’s when I saw her. She was standing at the point where the paved path opened up from between the house and wall to the backyard.

  Eva. My aunt. The Queen of Spades.

  Rosalie had sidled up to Dante at the side of the pool, eyes trained on the woman in black. Eva always had that effect. No matter how many times she appeared, the power she effortlessly exuded took everyone’s breath away.

  She wasn’t a large woman. Maybe 5 feet, 7 inches or so. She had long, flowing black hair, always dressed in black leggings and a tight, long-sleeve black T-shirt, and it was rare to see her without the huge black sunglasses she was wearing.

  She pushed those back onto her head and smiled.

  It was as if the tension broke, and Rosalie squealed in recognition, all wariness and apprehension gone.

  “Eva!”

  She pulled herself out of the pool and rushed over to my aunt, wrapping her arms around Eva’s waist and pressing her little wet body to Eva’s. My aunt’s smile was megawatt as she looked down. Then she crouched down to Rosalie’s level.

  “Cariño!”

  Rosalie excitedly spoke to her in Spanish, telling her about how much she liked the room and the dresses and the swimsuits.

  “I have more fun things planned,” Eva said, straightening. She reached for Rosalie’s hand. “Do you want me to show you the game room? We have video games. Do you know how to play? And chess. And cards.”

  “Yes, please. I love poker!”

  “So I’ve heard,” Eva said. “Let’s go. And then you can help me figure out some other fun toys to buy for your vacation here.”

  Eva winked at me. She and Rosalie held hands as they went into the house, not caring that Rosalie’s wet body dripped water all over the floor in a trail behind them. Dante tsked and followed behind with a towel, crouching to wipe it up.

  I laughed. So like him.

  Later, after a dinner of fish tacos with heaps of fresh salsa and guacamole, Dante tucked Rosalie into bed.

  He came down and sighed. “She misses Django.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I’ll arrange to fly him down,” Eva said.

  “He’s with Darling. So he’s in good hands.”

  “I know. But if it brings her comfort to have him here, I’ll arrange it,” Eva said. “Plus, while this place is safe, it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra level of protection.”

  “That’s what I need to talk to you about,” I said.

  In the end, in addition to bringing Django down, Eva arranged to have two armed guards at the house at all times. If Dante and Rosalie wanted to go into town, they could, as long as the guards were with them.

  “Good. I’m sure Rosalie will love the beach.”

  “I think we are okay here,” Eva said. “She will not stand out. Dante, your skin is dark enough for you to be easily mistaken as Mexican. You can still pretend to be her father. Tell her to call you Papa in public.”

  “Sounds good,” Dante said.

  I glanced over at him, hearing something in his voice. I wondered if he and Matt had planned on adopting after they’d married. Did he want to be a father? For some odd reason, it was something that had never come up between us since we’d lost Matt and Bobby.

  Dante would be a terrific father. No doubt.

  He excused
himself to go to the bathroom. I turned to Eva, who leaned over and refilled my wine. I noticed she was still sipping her first glass.

  “Eva? If something happens to me, I want to make sure Rosalie is taken care of.”

  She didn’t answer. She just met my eyes and nodded solemnly.

  “Can you help me make arrangements for Dante to be her father? Legally. Officially. All of that. I think she needs a dad.”

  Eva looked down. Something crossed her face that I didn’t understand. It looked like a flash of pain, but just as soon as I saw it, she glanced back up and smiled. “That is a wonderful idea, Gia.”

  That’s when it struck me. I hadn’t even considered her to be the one to take care of Rosalie.

  “Oh my God. I’m sorry. Would you? Could you? I mean, I guess I didn’t even think…” It all sounded lame. I tried again. “I just know you are so busy and travel so much and are basically training an army…”

  She reached over and put her hand on mine. “Gia. It’s okay.”

  We sat there for a few seconds in silence, then Dante came back in.

  “What?” He said looking from one of us to the other.

  “Dante, would you—if something ever happened to me—would you take care of Rosalie?”

  For some stupid reason, my heart was pounding.

  “Of course. Without question. I told you, Gia, we’re family. I’m her uncle after all.”

  I smiled. Of course he was. And Eva was her aunt.

  I turned to Eva. “That girl is so lucky to have an aunt and uncle like you guys in her life.”

  Eva smiled at my words, but there was still the slightest sadness beneath. There was so very much about her I didn’t know. And might never know. I was still astonished every time she entered my life, swooping in like an avenging angel and then disappearing again into her mysterious, Italian world.

  “I have to go back to Italy tomorrow,” Eva said, as if she’d read my mind.

  “I need your help finding him,” I said. Panic soared through me at the thought of her leaving.