Ortiz was trying to resist, pulling back his arm as Madrigal dragged it slowly forward. Madrigal slammed Ortiz’s arm down onto the table, his straight razor flicked open with an expert hand.
“Mr. Hinestroza, wait, maybe it’s a mistake, maybe he can explain—”
Madrigal’s voice was hollow in Danny’s ears, as if he was speaking from the other end of a tunnel, his words coming to Danny from a long distance. “Lay your fucking hand flat, Ortiz, or I’ll cut the whole thing off.”
The blade whispered through the air, the metallic clank when it connected overpowered by Ortiz’s scream, high and desperate—not a human sound, more like an animal caught in a trap, the fear spiraling higher with each breath. His blood flew out in a shimmering arc, fat, dark drops sliding over the edge of the table onto the dirty floor.
Someone was moaning, a harsh, keening cry. Danny didn’t even realize it was his own voice until Hinestroza called his name, jerking him back to reality. Danny turned his head in what felt like slow motion, made stupid by shock, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.
“Your friend here, the one you recommended for a job, he’s been stealing from me,” Hinestroza informed him once Danny met his eyes.
Danny licked his lips, trying to work up some spit. He could see Ortiz next to him, cradling his ravaged hand. “He’s addicted, Mr. Hinestroza,” Danny managed, his words made almost unintelligible by his shaking body. “He wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”
Hinestroza laughed. “I don’t care if he has to snort it every ten seconds to stay alive, Danny. That cocaine was mine!” He slammed his fist into the table. “And no one steals from me.” His voice was quiet now, gentle. “You know that.”
“But he’s worked with us for a long time. More than two years. Can’t you give him another chance? Let him work off what he owes?”
“So the next person will think they can steal from me and walk away missing only a thumb?” Hinestroza shook his head, almost as if he were truly sorry. “No, Danny. I can’t do that.” He made an impatient motion with his hand.
Madrigal stepped up next to Ortiz again, brandishing the razor. “What do you think?” he asked conversationally, looking at Danny with lively eyes. “An ear?” Madrigal ran the razor against Ortiz’s ear, opening up a red river of blood. He moved the razor around to Ortiz’s face, pulling his head back by a handful of hair. “Or maybe take off this nose? The one that likes to snort up Mr. Hinestroza’s cocaine.”
Danny and Ortiz screamed at the same time—long, echoing wails. Danny came up out of his chair, his cries ragged and wild. “Please, no, don’t! God… don’t!”
“Sit the fuck down!” Madrigal commanded, pointing the razor in Danny’s direction.
“Wait… now, wait,” Hinestroza said, holding up both palms. “Sit down, Danny. And let’s talk about this.”
Danny sank into his chair, his legs jittering against the seat. Maybe they could still get out of this. Maybe Ortiz didn’t have to die this way. Maybe…
“I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about Ortiz.”
Danny nodded, his head bobbing up and down like one of those dolls they passed out at baseball games. “Yes. He’s a good friend. Please, Mr. Hinestroza.”
Hinestroza pursed his lips, tapping them with his unlit cigar. “The bottom line is, someone stole from me, Danny. That can’t go unpunished.” He put the cigar in his mouth, lighting it with a gold lighter from his pocket. He took a few deep inhales, chomping contentedly on the end. “But I’m willing to make a deal, because you’ve always been such a good employee.”
“Anything,” Danny agreed. “If you want to take some of my wages, too, or something like that, that’s fine. No problem. I’ll—”
“You take his place,” Hinestroza said, his voice fierce, eyes burning into Danny’s.
Danny didn’t understand, his brain not able to make sense of the words. “Wh-wh-what?” he stammered.
Hinestroza shrugged, pointing with his cigar to Ortiz. “He stole from me. Someone has to pay, Danny. Otherwise I get a reputation as a man who doesn’t protect what’s his. And that only leads to trouble. I understand that you don’t want your friend to die. It’s actually very noble of you. But you’ll have to take his punishment instead.”
The tears fell hard now, running down Danny’s cheeks and splattering against his jeans. He was beyond the point of feeling shame or embarrassment for his weeping, terror the only emotion in his repertoire. “Mr. Hinestroza, I… isn’t there some other way?”
“No. That’s your only choice. Make it.” Hinestroza’s voice was as cold and unforgiving as the razor in Madrigal’s hand.
“Danny,” Ortiz groaned, his voice alive with anguish. “Danny.” But Danny refused to look at him. He didn’t want to hear whatever he was going to say, didn’t want to read the pleading in his eyes.
Because Danny already knew what his answer would be. He knew exactly the limits of his own bravery, knew precisely where his ability to sacrifice himself ended. And he knew he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t fall on the sword meant for Ortiz. Danny was going to let him die.
“Well?” Hinestroza demanded. He wanted Danny to say it out loud. Hinestroza understood the power of guilt, understood that Danny would choose to live but would never take another easy breath, would be forever haunted by the man he did not save.
“No,” Danny whispered, strangling on his grief.
“No, what?”
“No… I won’t take his place.”
Hinestroza leaned forward across the desk. “Fine. Then stop your whining and let Madrigal do his job.” He pushed back his chair with a screech of metal on concrete, his cigar clamped between his teeth. “I’ll be out in the car,” he told Madrigal. He pointed at Danny, “You stay here and watch.”
In the end, Madrigal took Ortiz’s ear next, the one closest to where Danny sat so he could see. Danny closed his eyes, but Madrigal threatened to cut out his eyeballs if he did it again. “Mr. Hinestroza told you to watch.” So Danny watched. With each new body part or chunk of flesh that littered the blood-soaked floor, Ortiz’s cries grew softer, but he would not die.
Danny had long since emptied his stomach onto his lap and down the front of his shirt, his breathing coming in ragged gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head as they tried to escape the sight. Danny cast his mind out, away from the stench of fresh blood and the wails of the dying. He could taste the vomit in his throat, feel it caked around his mouth. Danny sent up a prayer that he could be struck dead alongside Ortiz. But, like all of Danny’s prayers, this one went unanswered—he kept right on breathing, right on seeing.
Danny didn’t even recognize Ortiz anymore; he was just blood and gaping wounds. Danny wished they were seated closer so he could hold his hand, so Ortiz would know he wasn’t alone.
Danny remembered the day he’d met Ortiz, how he’d smiled so wide when Danny had walked up to the car wash, smelly and scared. Ortiz had not hesitated, had accepted Danny as his friend and helped him without question. Danny remembered how they would sit outside on their lunch break and eat cheap tacos, and Ortiz would tell stories about his wife. How he’d loved her since the day they’d met as seven-year-old children. He was never embarrassed to admit his feelings; he always spoke with pride.
Danny wished he could turn back time, press the rewind button on his life and say “No—fuck, no,” when Ortiz came to his apartment asking for a job. He wished he had done more to stop Ortiz from sliding into darkness after his daughter died. He wished he’d had the courage to save his friend.
Finally, even Madrigal grew tired, looking with disgust at his ruined clothes, flinging the bloody razor onto the table. “What do you think, Danny? Think he’s had enough?”
“Please,” Danny croaked. It seemed to be the only thing he could say, the only word his brain could dredge up. “Please.”
Madrigal pushed Ortiz’s head with the flat of his palm. “Hey, asshole, you still alive?”
Ortiz let out a low whimpe
r, gurgling and wet, and Danny’s stomach heaved in response. God help him, he wanted Ortiz to hurry up and die; he wanted it to be finished. Madrigal kicked over the chair, and Danny winced at the hollow thud as Ortiz’s head bounced against the floor. Ortiz was looking at Danny from between bloody strands of hair, his remaining eye filmy and dark. Madrigal pulled out his gun and held it tight against Ortiz’s head.
“Nah,” he smiled. “Too quick.” He moved the gun lower, pressed the barrel into Ortiz’s stomach.
Danny thought all his tears were gone, but he sobbed out Ortiz’s name, weeping behind his hands. When Madrigal fired the shot, Ortiz’s body jumped against the floor.
“I’m going outside for a smoke,” Madrigal said, his voice easy, satisfied with a job well-done. “You wait here.”
Danny stayed with Ortiz until he died, crooning a wordless tune, telling Ortiz he was sorry, even though he doubted Ortiz could hear him. Danny hoped he had escaped to somewhere far away—a place beyond the pain, a place where his daughter waited. Danny didn’t bother asking for forgiveness. He couldn’t see the point of wasting his breath begging for something he did not deserve.
MILLER WAS ready. He’d climbed out of bed early, showered and shaved in the cramped and steamy bathroom. He tried not to think. He wanted to disappear inside his professional shell, his mind focused solely on the goal of discovering the truth about Ortiz. He pulled on navy slacks and a white dress shirt, stopped short of wearing a tie. With one hand he smoothed back his damp hair and gazed at himself in the mirror. He looked like an FBI agent, hard and detached, a man he hardly recognized anymore.
You’re going to walk out there and break him now? Is that the kind of bastard you are, Miller? After what he said to you last night about never loving Griff? You know what he was telling you, what those words meant. And you’re going to turn around and push him this way?
But Miller couldn’t find out what he needed to know if he didn’t wear the mask. And he had to admit there was a sense of relief that came with stepping behind the façade again, putting himself beyond Danny’s reach. He’d never been so drawn to another human being in his entire life, and had never been so frightened by someone’s power over him.
Danny was still asleep, sprawled across the bed, hugging a pillow now that Miller had vacated his spot. Miller sat down in the chair near the window and waited, his elbows balanced on his knees, hands clasped. He’d picked this time and method deliberately, knew Danny would be vulnerable when he first woke up, naked physically and mentally against Miller’s surprise attack. No matter what the outcome, Miller would not blame Danny if he hated him after this.
And maybe that’s your goal, huh? It’s a lot easier for you when the other person’s the first to walk away, isn’t it?
Miller wasn’t sure how long he sat there watching Danny sleep, the tattoo on his back calling Miller closer. He wondered if he would ever get the chance to touch it again. A sliver of sun had poked through the break in the curtains, warm on Miller’s neck, when Danny finally woke up, rolling over with a jaw-popping yawn.
“Hey,” he greeted Miller with a puzzled smile. “What time is it? Why are you all dressed up?”
Miller took a deep breath, kept his face neutral, his voice even. “I know about Alejandro Ortiz.”
Danny recoiled, like he’d touched an electric current, his body arching away from Miller. “What did you say?” he choked out.
“I need you to tell me what happened. How did he die, Danny? Is he the one you were talking about when you said you killed someone a long time ago? What did you mean by that?” Miller was relentless in his questions, not letting up, not giving Danny any time to think.
“It’s none of your goddamn business.” Danny leaped off the bed, grabbing his boxer shorts from the floor and tugging them on. His eyes were wild, and Miller was transported back to that moment weeks ago in the interrogation room when he’d thought Danny was going to try to run. Miller stood quickly, putting his body between Danny and the door.
“We can talk about it here or I can take you down to headquarters and you can talk to Colin.” Miller might have been speaking to a complete stranger, Danny a suspect facing him in an impersonal interrogation room, instead of across the bed they’d shared only the night before.
Danny’s head whipped around. “Fuck you, Miller,” he spat. “Why don’t we do that, then? Head on down there, and while I’m at it I can tell him all about how you had your dick up my ass last night.”
Now it was Miller’s turn to take a step back, the breath freezing in his lungs. Danny barked out a bitter laugh. “It’s not much fun being ambushed, is it?”
“You wouldn’t do that,” Miller said with more certainty than he felt.
“Try me.” Danny’s eyes were ice cold, brutal self-preservation rising to the occasion.
“Answer the questions, Danny.”
Danny’s brow furrowed, his mouth twisting up. “How’d you find out about him anyway?”
“You had a nightmare one night, at the apartment. You were calling his name. I had Colin start trying to track him down.”
Danny looked away, the muscles in his throat leaping under his skin. “Why didn’t you say something?” he asked finally.
“Because you wouldn’t have told me. I had to do my job.”
Danny glared at Miller with narrowed eyes. “Is that what you’ve been doing with me all this time, your job?”
“What? No! I just… I need to know. I need to know the truth.”
“And what if the story isn’t what you expect? What if I did kill him? Are you going to have me arrested, charged with murder?” Danny took a step closer. “You fucked me, kept right on fucking me, thinking maybe I killed a man in cold blood?”
Suddenly Miller felt like the one who’d been broken, his heart laid open in front of him. He couldn’t do it, didn’t have it in him to play the FBI agent to Danny’s criminal. Not anymore. But the realization came too late; Danny was already watching him with wary, distant eyes.
“I know you didn’t kill him.” As he spoke the words he realized they were true. He didn’t believe, would never believe, that Danny was a killer.
“You don’t know shit!” Danny cried furiously. “You want to hear this story? Pull up a chair, grab some popcorn—you’re in for a treat.”
“Danny….”
“Oh, don’t stop me now, Miller. You went to such trouble to get the answers, right?”
Miller didn’t respond, wondered how the tables had gotten so turned, how he’d ended up the one in the spotlight instead of shining it on Danny.
“Well, Special Agent Sutton, have at it.” Danny spread his arms wide with a challenging raise of his eyebrows.
“Danny, you don’t have—”
Danny took him by surprise, rushing forward to slam him into the wall. Miller’s head cracked against the plaster, his arms pinned beneath Danny’s weight.
“What do you want to know?” Danny shouted, one shaking fist aimed and ready to fly. This Danny was not someone Miller recognized, his face hard and determined, his eyes crackling with disdain. Miller flinched, bracing for the impact, but the punch never came. Danny let his arm fall. He pushed roughly away from Miller, muttering, “Fuck,” under his breath.
Danny retreated to the far side of the room and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “What do you want to know?” he repeated.
Miller took a steadying breath, his eyes level on Danny’s, searching for the man he knew—the man he’d sent running for cover. “Who was Ortiz?”
“He was the first person I met in Texas. He was just a couple of years older than me. We—”
“Were you lovers?” Miller asked quietly.
“Does that question fall under the heading of personal or business?” Danny smirked. “Not that you probably give a shit anymore, but we were just friends. We worked at the car wash together.”
“So Hinestroza recruited you both?”
Danny shook his head. “N
o. Only me. But Ortiz was desperate for money. He had a family back in Mexico, so after I’d been working with Hinestroza for a while, he came and asked me for a job. I said no at first, but eventually I talked to Hinestroza and he took Ortiz into the operation.” Danny gave Miller a bland stare. “Shouldn’t you be taking notes? Or do you have a tape recorder hidden around here somewhere? Maybe wearing a wire under your fancy shirt?”
Miller ignored him, talking past the sharp twist of his heart. “What happened then?”
“He got hooked on coke. Started using with Madrigal. The problem was, Madrigal could afford his habit and Ortiz couldn’t.” Danny sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. “He stole some cocaine from a shipment.”
“Ah, Jesus,” Miller sighed.
Danny’s eyes flew to his, sad and angry. “They took us to a warehouse and Hinestroza ordered him killed. Madrigal tortured him.” Danny blew out a trembling breath. “Then he shot him in the stomach and left him to die.”
Miller clenched his fists until his knuckles screamed. He knew what Danny was leaving out from his matter-of-fact recitation. Colin had read him the medical examiner’s report over the phone. Ortiz had endured the unthinkable before he’d finally died. Miller didn’t need the details to imagine what Danny had been forced to see and hear. No wonder he still had nightmares.
“You didn’t kill him, Danny,” Miller said, as gently as he could.
“Yes, I did.” Danny’s voice was flat.
“Just because you helped him get a job doesn’t mean you’re responsible—”
Danny held up his index finger in a mocking wave. “You haven’t heard the best part yet.” He paused, the muscle in his jaw thumping under his skin. “I could have saved him, but I didn’t.”
Miller walked around the bed and sat on the edge closest to Danny. He didn’t reach out and touch him, but he wanted to. “Tell me.”
Danny made a gagging noise in his throat, swallowing back misery like a bitter pill. “Hinestroza said he wouldn’t kill Ortiz if I took his place.”
Danny’s eyes were far away, glistening with the liquid sheen of unshed tears. Miller’s heart broke watching him, splintering into a thousand pieces inside his chest.
Dreamspinner Press Year Three Greatest Hits Page 61