by LK Shaw
“Looks like you started without me. Who is he?” I didn’t begin to believe that I knew all of the dealers who worked for Álvarez, but even beaten, he didn’t strike me as one of them.
“Un puerco estúpido.” Paulo spat. A stupid pig.
Fuck. By the looks of things, he wasn’t going to make it out of here alive.
“¿Estas loco? ¿Porque mierda trajiste a un policía aquí? Are you out of your mind? Why the fuck would you bring a cop here?”
Paulo shrugged. “Officer Rodriguez has been looking into a cleanup that could potentially lead back to Mr. Álvarez. I brought him here to discover what exactly he knows.”
“How long has he been here, and what have you learned?”
“This is day number three without learning a goddamn thing except his name. The pig won’t talk.” I sensed the frustration, and perhaps even a little respect, in his voice. It didn’t matter though, because everyone in this room knew he was going to die tonight.
“That’s difficult to do when your mouth is full of blood.” I dead-panned. “Besides, torture seldom leads to answers when the victim—especially a cop you stupid fuck—knows you’re going to kill them anyway.”
Paulo’s fists clenched at my insult. I didn’t give a shit. They’d called me here for a reason. Not the least of which, I was a step above them on the food chain. I was here because these two dipshits knew they’d fucked up. Paulo was a stupid fuck, but even he wasn’t going to kill a cop investigating Miguel without notifying José or me. Jesus, what a fucking mess.
Miguel paid a shit ton of money to one of the best defensive legal teams in the entire tristate area. Crimes frequently “potentially led” to Álvarez. So far, nothing had stuck. An undercover cop was nothing new. It could have been handled. Now, unless I performed a goddamn miracle, he was a dead cop.
“Why don’t you two step outside and leave me with Officer Rodriguez here.”
I sensed Paulo’s reluctance, but I didn’t give a fuck. Javier nudged his arm and nodded his head in the direction of the door. They closed it behind them.
Even the sight of my knife didn’t cause him to rear back in fear. Damn, the man was a brave mother fucker. I moved behind him and cut away the bindings around his wrists. He rubbed them in an attempt to ease the rope burn and stimulate circulation.
I squatted in front of him. “What I’m about to tell you will get me killed.”
Not even so much as a blink. Forging ahead anyway, I spilled my secret.
“My name is Brody Thomas, and I’m an undercover D.E.A. agent. I’m being honest here when I tell you I don’t know what to do to get you out of here alive.”
Rodriguez turned his head before spitting out a mouth full of blood. “There’s nothing you can do.”
His voice was calm, resigned. My head dropped in defeat. Fuck. I wanted to scream in rage. To punch something. Because he was right.
“Actually, that’s not true.”
My head snapped back up at his words, hope brewing inside me. “What is it?”
“I need you to protect my sister.”
I stared at him blankly. What the hell was he talking about? I opened my mouth to question him, but he continued. “My sister will come looking for me, if she hasn’t already.” He smiled, his front teeth missing, blood still filling his mouth. His eyes finally met mine. “Our dad was a cop. My brothers as well.” He paused. “She’s a bulldog. Scrappy and tenacious. Stubborn as hell. My brothers will have her six. But they all knew the case I was working on. Ines has probably already found a way in. Which means she needs someone else on the inside to keep her safe. That, Brody Thomas, is what you can do for me.”
Before I could respond, the steel door behind me slammed open. I pivoted on the balls of my feet, gun in hand.
“Did you get anything?”
“No, nothing.”
“Time for negotiations is over.” He pulled out his gun. “He’s not gonna talk.”
I waited for Rodriguez to say something to contradict Paulo, but he just nodded his head in resignation. Even in the face of death, he remained calm and composed. His eyes remained fixed on mine, silently reminding me of his last request. And although I knew it was coming, I still flinched at the sound of the bullet exiting the chamber.
Chapter 11
The knock on the door surprised me. I groaned when I looked through the peephole and saw who was standing on the other side. I’d finally stopped thinking of him, and here he was again, in the flesh. “For god’s sake. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I demanded when I flung the door open. Anger was better than arousal.
“Can I come in?” Tomás asked gravely.
I didn’t know what to make of his attitude. He wasn’t smug, snarky, or even flirty like all the previous times I’d seen him. There was a seriousness to him that made me both curious and nervous. Curiosity won out. I opened the door further and backed away, giving him room to enter.
“Come on in and have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Beer?”
He shook his head as he stepped past me. “No, thanks, I’m fine.”
My already small apartment suddenly felt tiny with Tomás inside. I studied him. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was mussed, like he’d been running his fingers through it. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell me why you’re here.”
I made my way to the couch and settled in, waiting for him to do the same. There was a tension surrounding him. Finally, he took a seat, but avoided meeting my gaze.
After several moments of silence he finally looked at me. There was so much grief and sorrow in his eyes, I didn’t want to hear whatever it was he had to say.
“I’m sorry, Ines.”
I blinked several times before it processed that he’d said my name. My real name. Shit. Instead of panicking, I tried to laugh him off. “My name is Gabriela.”
He didn’t laugh with me.
“Your name is Ines Rodriguez.”
Sweat trickled between my breasts, and I swallowed hard. Tomás was a member of the cartel, and now they knew who I was. “I think it might be time for you to leave.”
I made my way towards the door. My hand had just touched the knob when his next words froze the blood in my veins.
"Ernesto Rodriguez.”
I closed my eyes and waited for the bullet. When it didn’t come, I turned to face my enemy.
“What did you say?” My voice came out on a whisper. Then, I remembered his first words to me. I’m sorry.
“You heard me Ines. I know who you are. I also know you’ve been looking for your brother.”
On auto-pilot, I moved back to the couch and perched on the edge of my seat. Tomás hadn’t moved from his spot.
“There was nothing I could do to stop it. I’m truly sorry Ines.”
“Stop saying that!” It was then I noticed my whole body was shaking. Bile rose in my throat. I flew out of the living room and barely made it to the bathroom before I lost the meager contents of my stomach. My hair was pulled back and a cold cloth was pressed against the back of my neck. I lost track of how many times I retched. When there was nothing left in my stomach, I collapsed on the floor exhausted.
Strong arms lifted me off the ground. I was so heartsick I didn’t even protest. What Tomás said couldn’t be true. He had to be lying. Ernesto couldn’t be dead. I was laid on my bed and that’s when a sob escaped. A warm body cocooned my cold, shivering one as I released tortured cry after tortured cry. Time stopped moving. I felt utterly and completely dead inside. I wanted to die, too. Whispered words were spoken in my ear, but I was deaf to them. The voice continued to speak to me, and eventually my body quieted.
I was numb.
I heard one final whispered word in my ear before I knew nothing more.
“Sleep.”
I struggled to open my eyes. They felt so heavy. My head was foggy and my mouth tasted like a sewer. I sluggishly sat up and wondered why I was in bed this early in the day. Then the memories
rushed in. Ernesto. Oh, god. I fisted my mouth to hold back a scream.
A noise from the other room snapped me to attention, and the smell of coffee hit my nose.
Knowing who was out there and dreading seeing him, I pulled myself out of bed and delayed the meeting. Shuffling feet led me to the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth. After finishing, I stared at my reflection. Mascara was smeared under my eyes, which were red and bloodshot. My hair was tangled in some places and sticking up in others. A half sob escaped me that I even noticed that stupid stuff. My brother was dead and inconsequential bullshit like my hair or makeup didn’t even fucking matter. The only thing that mattered was making sure the men who were responsible for Ernesto’s death paid for what they’d done.
I grabbed a washcloth and cleaned my face. I combed the tangles out of my hair until it shined. Quickly changing my clothes, I took one final look at myself in the mirror before heading out to meet my nemesis. Tomás looked up when I entered the room. I hated that my body hummed when it spotted him. Traitor.
I forced myself to pay attention, because I realized he was speaking. “—if you wanted it. I wasn’t sure how you took it.”
Ah, yes, coffee. “Cream, no sugar.”
When I moved to grab a mug, he waved me off. “Let me.”
I changed course and sat at the dining room table I’d picked up at a garage sale a couple years ago. I’d stripped, sanded, and varnished it all on my own. It was the first time I’d done something like that, and I’d been proud of how well it turned out. Even Ernesto had been impressed.
Tomás stepped over to where I sat with a steaming mug in his hand and set it in front of me. I wrapped my hands around the mug and took several sips before staring at its contents like the answers I sought were inside.
“How long have you been a cop?” Tomás’ voice came from across the table, and I realized he’d taken a seat while I’d savored my caffeine.
It was all part of my plan to answer his questions. “Five years.”
He smiled. “I bet your brother loved that.”
The ache in my heart grew, but I pushed it back. I needed to harden the damn organ if I was going to survive this.
“Not at first. Like any brother, he worried. Not about me not being able to handle the job, but that the job would change me. Seeing more bad than good messes with your psyche. But he had it all wrong. I saw more good than bad. And I thrived. Once he realized that, he’d never been prouder.” I cleared my clogged throat.
“I assume that’s why you were working the club. To get close to Alejandro to get information on where your brother might be.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes.”
“So, now what?”
I shrugged. “First, you answer my questions. Then, you go home and forget we ever had this conversation. Unless you plan on telling Miguel my real identity. If you haven’t already. Then you’d have another death on your conscience. Or maybe you don’t care.”
Tomás jumped up so quickly his chair fell backward from the force. “Of course I fucking care, Ines. Do you really think I want to see you dead? Am I that much of a monster to you?”
I blinked at his outburst. I’d expected a reaction, but not this. This was fierce and fervent. I almost felt guilty. Almost. I still needed answers.
I choked out my response. “I’m sorry.”
Tomás studied me, gauging my sincerity, before sighing. He picked his chair up off the floor and resumed sitting.
“I’ll try to answer your questions. After that, I think the best thing you can do is go home and mourn with your family. Then, go back to work, and forget all about Miguel Álvarez.”
It was painfully clear this man knew nothing about me. Otherwise, he’d know what he’d just said was ludicrous. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d ever forget.
“Who was it?” I asked, quickly changing gears.
Tomás brow crinkled. “Who was what?”
“Who pulled the trigger?” I demanded too quietly.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
I slammed my fist on the table, rattling my mug. “Who killed my brother?”
Chapter 12
When Ines had entered the kitchen, my heart skipped. Gone was all the glam. In place of the bombshell was a fresh-faced, naturally stunning woman. Ines looked several years younger than the twenty-six I knew her to be. She appeared untouched by the violent nature of our career choices. I, on the other hand, felt far older than thirty-eight.
Ignoring her question, I calmly refilled her mug.
Still lurking in the shadows of her eyes was grief, but a more powerful emotion was at the forefront. A quiet but ferocious storm was brewing. Which was perfectly fine with me. I’d much rather see violent fury than heart-crushing mourning. It only showcased how strong Ines was. My heart had broken at her cries, because I’d done that to her. Me. If only I’d tried harder to save her brother, she wouldn’t have experience that level of pain and anguish. This was all my fault, and I would live with Ernesto Rodriguez’s death on my shoulders for the rest of my life. I’d desperately wanted to tell her I was D.E.A., but there was no way I could. It was important, now more than ever, that she not find out. I was in too deep. I needed to protect her. One thing I did know, Paulo was a dead man. I was going to kill him for her.
“Someone who will die soon.” There was a promise in my tone when I finally answered her.
Ines sensed it. “Why?”
I reached out and palmed the back of her neck. Her hair felt like silk beneath my fingers. Our foreheads touched as I leaned across the table, and her eyes darkened when I dropped a light kiss on her barely parted lips.
“Because what he did caused you pain. For that, he’ll die.”
At one in the morning, I pulled up to the abandoned farmhouse and cut the lights of the light blue Chevy Impala almost as old as me. I kept it parked in a rented storage unit and only got it out when I didn’t want to be seen. I exited the vehicle and popped the trunk. Surveying the contents of the lock box inside, I grabbed two sheathed knives and stuck one inside my left boot and the other I snapped onto my belt. Then, I palmed a small .22 and stuck it down my pants at the small of my back.
Then I took off at a slow clip, hopping a fence, and trekking through the dense copse of trees. I traveled three miles before the trees thinned and opened up to the back of a small, dark house. I kept in the shadows as I crept across the lawn before finally reaching the house. Using the knife at my back, I jimmied the window lock until it popped with a slight audible click. I stopped breathing, listening for any sounds of life inside the house. After five minutes with no alarm sounding, I slid the window open and crawled in.
My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and I could make out an empty bed. I navigated the room, then down the hall to my intended destination. I could make out the shape of my target. I pulled out the gun and pressed it against temple of the sleeping man.
“I recommend you don’t move. This thing might accidentally go off. We don’t want that to happen. Yet.”
A groggy Paulo responded. “What the fuck Tomás?”
“We have a problem, you and I.”
He shifted and then winced when the barrel dug deeper into his skin. “I wouldn’t recommend doing that again.”
“What do you want?”
“You fucked up when you killed the cop, Paulo.”
He sneered up at me. “A la mierda con ese maldito puerco.”
Rage had me seeing red. Before Paulo could even blink, I’d unsheathed the knife at my hip and sliced his throat. His hands went to his neck to stop the flow of blood that gurgled out. I leaned down and whispered in his ear. “The man you call a piece of shit pig was the brother of someone important to me. This is for her.”
His eyes widened at that. I placed a pillow over his face and nestled the barrel of the gun deep into it before pulling the trigger twice, the stuffing muffling the sound. I exited the house as quietly as I’d arrive
d. I sprinted through the trees, and twenty minutes later I was back at the farmhouse, winded and sweating despite the cool morning air.
An hour later, I was inside yet another darkened house. This time, though, not to harm. Unable to help myself, I brushed the few strands of hair off Ines’ sleeping face. She sighed softly, but otherwise didn’t stir. Even when I leaned down to ghost my lips across her forehead. The crinkled note lay on the pillow next to her where she’d see it when she woke. I took one more longing glance at her face before disappearing into the waning moonlight.
Chapter 13
Sunlight filtering through my windows woke me, but I wasn’t ready to get up yet and face the day. Today was my brother’s funeral, and I couldn’t be with my family to support them in case someone from the cartel was watching the service. It was killing me.
I forced myself out of bed anyway. Knowing my father would be worried sick, but needing to do this, I pulled the black netted hat out of its box and began to get ready. Two hours later, I was in my crappy jalopy driving down the road. I pulled into Zion Gardens Cemetery, exited my car, and started walking, my black heels occasionally sinking into the soft ground. I rounded a bend and stopped next to an old maple tree where I stood in its shadows. The netting from my hat was pulled down to cover my face, and, despite the heat, I wore a long-sleeved dress buttoned to the neck. I stood frozen like a statue as I watched the hearse crest a hill in the distance.
Memories of the last week came barreling back and I gasped at the pain. I let the tears fall. My brother was dead. Immediately on its heels was Tomás’ decree that he planned on killing my brother’s murderer. The morning after I’d woken to find a piece of paper on my pillow. I’d opened the note to find a single sentence written in bold, slashing cursive. It’s done. Below that, the letter T. I’d lain there for what seemed like hours, my feelings volleying between guilt and hope. A week later, I still hadn’t figured out which emotion won out.