Landslide

by Jenn Cooksey

  I cleared my throat. “It was all lined up. Before I was even able to take my shot, she was hit by a fucking car. Everyone saw it. What was I supposed to do, still go through with it with everyone watching me?”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you shot the driver.”

  No, not really, I thought.

  “I guess I lost my cool,” I told him.

  “I didn’t think that was possible with you.”

  “Maybe you’ve heard wrong about me.”

  “They’ve called you soulless.”

  “Maybe I’m getting tired of this game.”

  “Ah,” he said. “The game, but not the money.”

  “Maybe money gets you killed in the end.”

  “No, no,” he said. “Money is what gets other people killed. By you.” He sighed long and hard, and I tried to picture who this man could be. So, so familiar. And so, so wrong.

  “Listen,” he went on, “I know things are more complicated now, but the job still has to go through.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “No?”

  “It’s more than complicated. There were witnesses there that could have seen me.”

  “No one has come forward.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “Don’t you worry about it. Just trust me when I tell you that you are clean. The only real complication is the fact that you’ll have to get into the hospital. She’s being guarded, will be for some time. But I know you’ve handled dicier situations than that before.”

  I frowned. “How much do you know about me?”

  “Enough,” was his dry answer. “The price is now two hundred thousand dollars. You can keep that fifty we gave you. This is on top of that.”

  Fucking hell. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars would end all my problems forever. But that was way too much money for just a girl, unless she was more than just a girl. She was a death sentence.

  Something was terribly fucking wrong here, and I would be an idiot to stick my nose in it for one minute longer.

  “No,” I told him. “I haven’t survived this long to know when there’s something more at stake. I’ll meet your people somewhere, give you your deposit back if you want, but this is where we part ways.”

  There was a heavy pause on the line. “Don’t be foolish.”

  “I’m being smart,” I told him. “Whatever game this is, I don’t want any part of it.”

  “I suppose raising the price wouldn’t help.”

  “No. This is a job I don’t want to touch.”

  “But you’ve already had your hand in it,” he said, and finally there was an edge to his voice, a warning. “It’s too late for you to back out now. You accepted the job, and now you have to finish it.”

  “You’re telling me that the fact that the target was hit by a seemingly random car isn’t a warning sign to you? Right before I pulled the trigger? The fact that the dead body of a fucking flight attendant has a two hundred thousand dollar price tag on it? If you want her out so bad, there are plenty of other people you can pay to do your dirty work. This one though, I’m no longer a part of.”

  More silence. I could hear his breathing. “Have you ever backed out of a job before?”

  I swallowed. “No,” I said thickly. “I haven’t. But there have been jobs that I shouldn’t have taken, only I didn’t listen to my instincts. I’m listening to them now. This isn’t the job for me, and this is where we part ways.” I took a deep breath, feeling the monetary sting already. “Just tell me where to meet your people. I’ll give you the deposit back, I haven’t touched a single bill. I don’t want any trouble, we’ll just forget it all and move on.”

  “Oh, you’ll be moving on,” the man said. “And so will she.”

  The line went dead.

  I stared at my phone for a good minute, feeling absolute dread coursing through me. I was trusting my gut on this one—I had made the right decision, hadn’t I?

  Within an hour, I was out of the hotel room and booked into one of the swankier all-inclusive resorts close to downtown. I used my fake Canadian passport—Derrin Calway—and credit card. I tossed my phone and got a new one at a street-side kiosk. I still had an email address and a pager number that most people knew, and though many of the cartels didn’t possess the same high-tech tracking systems and surveillance the movies would lead you to believe, it never hurt to be careful. I was constantly getting cheap new phones, constantly changing names, constantly on the move.

  Most people just called me the American. They never really knew my name was Derek, and the ones that did, they assumed it was a fake name. But my name was really the only real thing about me.

  I tried to fall asleep that night, but the sound of people partying it up at the sprawling hotel pools was too much for me. Sometimes, only sometimes, the normalcy of the world around me hurt. This was one of those times.

  When dawn finally colored the sky tangerine pink, and the only sound was the crashing of the Pacific outside my balcony, I finally fell asleep. My last thought was of Alana, lying on the pavement, her body broken by intent or circumstance.

  I wanted to find her.

  Chapter Two

  Alana

  “Alana.” I heard a voice cut through the darkness. A firm hand shook my shoulder as the screams and cries started to fade away and only the fear, that deep, desperate fear, was a film left behind.

  I blinked slowly, the white light filtering in through my eyelashes. The nightmare was hanging around in the back of my pounding head, and the living nightmare was before me.

  Fuck my fucking life. I couldn’t believe I got hit by a goddamn car.

  “Alana,” the voice said again, and I knew it was the nurse, Penelope. “Are you all right, dear? You were crying in your sleep.”

  I brought my eyes over to her without moving my head. I’d gotten pretty good at that over the last few days. If I moved my head at all, I’d be hit with a wave of nausea. The doctors assured me that I probably wouldn’t have a concussion, but I didn’t believe them. I felt like my brain had been demolished.

  The nurse had a kindly face, full-cheeked like a chipmunk. So far she was the only one in the hospital who had been doting on me. The doctors and surgeons were so brusque and professional. I was used to that being with the airlines and all, but it was nice to have someone that acted as if they really cared.

  “Sometimes I do that,” I said carefully. “I . . . have nightmares.”

  She gave me a sympathetic smile. “I can tell.” Luckily she didn’t press it any further. My childhood wasn’t something I liked to talk about.

  “How are you feeling, otherwise?” she asked, trying to adjust my pillow. I winced at the movement but was relieved that it didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.

  “I still get dizzy when I move my head,” I told her. “But it’s getting better now. Thank god. My arm is really itchy.” I looked down to the cast around my wrist, going from palm to mid-forearm.

  “It will get better as your skin gets used to it,” Penelope said. “You were incredibly lucky, Alana. Not many people walk away from a hit-and-run accident with only a fractured ankle and a broken wrist.”

  “And the bruising and the pain and the head that feels like it is going to explode,” I filled in.

  “That, too, will go away,” she said. “All you need to do is rest.”

  I swallowed hard. It felt like I had a lump of coal in my throat. “Have they caught the guy yet, the guy who did this to me?”

  A funny look passed over her eyes, and I knew she knew something.

  “Tell me, please,” I told her. “I hate being kept in the dark.”

  She sighed and cast a quick glance over to the open door leading out into the rest of the hospital. The bed next to me in the semi-private room was thankfully unoccupied the whole time I had been there.

  “I haven’t talked to the police,” she said in a low voice. “It’s just what I’ve been hearing. But the guy who hit you, he�
��s dead.”

  My eyes widened. “Dead?”

  “Someone killed him . . . he was murdered. Not too far from where you were hit.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I am sure the police will talk to you about it as soon as they can.”

  My thoughts automatically went to my brother. Javier was protective over me, even more so lately, and this seemed like something he would do.

  “How was he killed?” I asked with trepidation.

  “He was shot. In the head.”

  “That’s it?”

  She shot me a funny look.

  I quickly fumbled for my next words. “I mean, that’s terrible.”

  That meant it wasn’t Javier. Javier wouldn’t just shoot whoever did this to me, he would take them and make them suffer for a very, very long time. My brother might be twisted—as all drug cartel lords are—but family always came first.

  “I’m not sure how terrible it is,” the nurse said. “This man hit you with his car and took off. Some might say it’s his comeuppance.”

  Some might say all of this was too weird. “I guess I don’t have to worry anymore.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t. But there is still a police officer stationed on this floor, for at least tonight. They can’t tell whether the hit and run was intentional or not.”

  “I’d seen that car before,” I told her, just as I had told the police. “I got glimpses of the man from time to time. I think he was a mechanic for the airlines.”

  “That’s what they say. No record of criminal history either, but then again it’s Mexico, so that doesn’t mean much, does it?”

  I wanted to shake my head but didn’t risk it. “No, it doesn’t.” I closed my eyes. “When do I get out of here again?”

  “The doctor wants you under observation for a few more days. The fact that you are still dizzy isn’t good, although that can be a side effect of the pain medication.”

  “Do you have anything to help me sleep?” I asked, and when I didn’t hear her reply, I opened my eyes to look at her pleadingly. What I wanted was something strong enough to knock me out and keep my nightmares at bay. Usually I had them about once a week, but ever since the accident—which happened, what? Four, five days ago?—I had been having them more. Perhaps because for the first time in a very long time I was afraid again.

  And perhaps because being here in the hospital made me realize how little I had in my life. My brother hadn’t come by to see me yet, but I hadn’t called him either, and I hadn’t talked to my twin sister Marguerite. Everyone else—my other sisters, my mother, my father, they were all dead. I had no children, no husband, no boyfriend. Nothing. I only had my job and my friends Luz and Dominga.

  Penelope gave me a conceding smile then left the room. When she came back she was holding two pills and a glass of water.

  “This will make you rest for a long time,” she said, and gently helped me up so I could take them. The room spun and my head hurt, but I managed to get them down.

  It wasn’t long until I felt good, sublime, floating on a cloud, and everything went black.

  ***

  It was ten o’clock at night and the hospital was quiet. Luz sat on the corner of my bed while Dominga stationed herself at the door, watching for anyone who might try and stop my escape attempt.

  I’d been at the hospital for a week in total and yet the doctor still wanted me to stay for another night. I was sick and fucking tired of just lying in bed, watching terrible soap operas and flipping through magazines. Luz and Dominga came to see me when they could, but since Luz was a flight attendant like I was and Dominga was a maid at one of Puerto Vallarta’s largest resorts, they couldn’t always find the time during visiting hours.

  Finally I’d had enough and told them to come and rescue me the first chance they got. Luz had the spare key to my apartment and went in to get me some clothes to leave in and helped me get changed into my dress while we waited for Dominga to finish her shift.

  We weren’t going far. I couldn’t really fathom it in my condition. I was no longer dizzy, but I was still on pain medication, my left forearm was in a cast, and my left foot was bandaged tightly. When I officially left the hospital I would have crutches, but for tonight I would just rely on my friends. The only people I really had.

  I had finally called Javier and Marguerite and told them what had happened. Javier said for me to call him as soon as I was discharged, and Marguerite had whined about not having any money to fly down from New York to see me. But the fact was, my only two living family members still weren’t here.

  “Is the coast clear?” Luz asked, drumming her fingers excitedly on the bed. She had this crazy sparkle in her eyes that she got when she was feeling particularly hyperactive. Luz was tall with long dark hair down to her butt that she almost always wore in a bun, which only added on extra height. She was a force, a powerhouse, and was just as good at putting drunken passengers in their seats as she was at being the life of the party. Luz was a ball of energy and very hard to ignore, and I knew she would get me out of this dull hospital room as if her life depended on it.

  Dominga raised her finger to shut her up and kept staring down the hallway. She was about my height, 5’6”, but runway-model thin and had this quiet air about her that most people mistook as snobbishness, but I knew it was because she would just rather listen than talk. She also didn’t smile much because she hated the gap between her teeth, something we all—especially her husband—found adorable.

  Then there was me, Alana Bernal. Sister of one of Mexico’s most powerful drug lords. Queen of meaningless one night stands. Flight attendant who couldn’t seem to get the routes she wanted.

  Forever alone.

  And hit by a fucking car.

  “Okay, now,” Dominga said, and Luz immediately got to her feet, helping me off the bed. I had put on a simple black dress that showed off a lot of cleavage—I needed something to distract from the bandaged wrapped foot and the white cast on my arm. On my good foot was a sparkly flat sandal for stability and Luz had covered up my body with mounds of concealer to mask all the bruises which were now fading to an ugly yellow purple. I definitely didn’t look as good as I normally did, but I was still high on pain medication, so at least I felt pretty good.

  With all my weight on Luz’s shoulder, we hobbled over to the door and looked down the hall both ways. It was totally empty. Thankfully I knew that there were no more policemen stationed on this floor to look after me. They had all been called off once it was ruled out that the hit and run had been a crime but not a deliberate one, and that the man who had shot the assailant had been a vigilante of sorts. At least, that’s what the cops had told me. It was hard to know the truth when it came to them.

  The three of us scampered down the hall toward the stairwell, away from the nurse’s station, and with an awkward, clumsy descent, we made our way down the stairs and out into the hot night.

  I nearly collapsed into Luz’s arms, bursting into a fit of giggles. I hadn’t felt this rebellious since I was a little girl, stealing candy from Violetta. But at that thought, my smile began to falter, as it always did when I thought about my poor sister.

  “Now what?” Luz asked, giving my shoulders a squeeze. She could always tell when I was being held in this violent melancholy and did her best to get me out of it. “What’s the plan?”

  “I think that was the plan,” Dominga said, brushing her curly hair out of her face. “Get Alana out of the hospital.”

  “Get Alana a drink,” I said quickly. “Did you think I got all dressed up to stand in the parking lot?”

  “Are you sure with your medication?” Dominga asked as she eyed me suspiciously.

  I waved her away. “I’m fine. Just get me to a bar, get a beer in my belly, get some fucking hot men with big dicks, and I’m happy as can be.”

  Luz and Dominga exchanged a look above my head. Finally Luz said, “There’s a bar down the road, but you
know it’s going to be filled with hospital workers that may just haul your ass back here, not your usual hot men with big dicks.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” I told her, nodding to the road. “Now let’s go before someone pulls me back in.”

  We got in Luz’s car and drove a couple of blocks until we saw a bar with a pink and green neon palm tree outside. Lolita’s. It looked a bit rough around the edges, but the people standing outside smoking seemed like your average Mexican twenty somethings in Puerto Vallarta.

  “We can do better,” Luz said. “I’ll keep driving.”

  “I don’t think I should go too far from the hospital,” I said quietly. “Just in case.” Even though I was feeling fine, I was still afraid that a rogue concussion could spring up out of nowhere. I was also afraid that Penelope would discover that I had escaped. Lately she hadn’t been checking on me until just about one o’clock in the morning, but I felt bad about possibly disappointing her.

  Still, freedom felt divine.

  “All right,” Luz said, and pulled her Toyota into the lot behind the bar.

  If there were any nurses celebrating the end of their shift, I didn’t see them. As Dominga and Luz helped me into the bar, we were met with smiling, drunk faces and spilled drinks. The music was loud and booming, bass thumping into my bones, and I couldn’t help but grin back at the rowdy patrons. I had needed this, badly.

  While Luz went to the bar to get us drinks, Dominga and I managed to score a booth in the corner. We pushed away the stacks of empty drinks that were left behind and settled in to do some hottie watching. Well, I was the one who was always looking for someone to catch my eye. Dominga took her marriage very seriously and wouldn’t even admit whether a guy was hot or not.

  “I’ll get the next round,” I said to Luz as she came back with the beers.

  She waved her hand at me dismissively. “You are always buying us drinks, Alana. It’s time for us to treat you for a change.”

  I raised my beer in the middle of the table. “Well, I think I owe you something for your excellent escape plan.” I clinked their bottles. “So cheers to that. And thank you.”