“That’s why you care, isn’t it? Something personal?”
Cameron rattled the ice in her empty glass, trying to find a way to say it all in as few words as possible. “He made me think he was dead.”
“Just that?” Hailey finally asked.
Cameron tipped the glass back against her lips and let the ice tumble into her mouth and crunched down on it, feeling it crack between her teeth.
“That, and he’s the father of my son.”
Chapter 11
Luis Rosario was born in Chiconautla, Mexico. His father was a waiter. His mother cleaned rooms for gringos. He was going to America. A promotion, a raise and a one-bedroom apartment in San Francisco. Not just America. Luis Rosario was on his way to California. He took the last swig of Dewar’s as the captain announced their descent. On the first page of his notebook, he wrote, “My life begins again today.” Then, he closed the thin, blue book and tucked it in his inside pocket. They made fun of his notebook, called it a diary, but he felt important when he wrote in it. And now, he was important.
Enough listening to his wife’s mother insult the way his boys “took after their father.” His father-in-law always going on about how well he supported his family, listing all the things Luis couldn’t afford to give Laura and the boys. Luis was never good enough for any of them. Well, he hadn’t inherited a family business, so what did they expect? Mostly, he was sick of Laura’s four brothers watching him like a hawk while they stayed out all night, gambled, and slept with other women. The one time Luis had talked to one of the hostesses, they’d taken turns bitch-slapping him in the parking lot.
He did his family duty. He provided for them. They had a nice house. She bought what she wanted most of the time, some of it with help from her dad. After Alejandro, she’d refused to have sex with him. Even on his damn birthday, she refused. Her brothers always had an extra girl on the side, and their wives were hot compared to Laura. Miguel’s wife, Mariana, loved sex. He probably got it all the time and, still, he always had some young hottie. The rules didn’t apply to Luis. He had needs, too. Now he was going to be free. Best part was it had all happened so fast that Oscar didn’t have a chance to come over and stop him. His wife had barely had a chance to call her father. Fucking perfect.
Luis hoped to see Manny. He certainly owed him a drink. After all, Manny convinced Luis to take this job in the first place. He made his way out of the airport, searching for the man who was meeting him. They told him to pack for two nights. They needed to assess him, like a job interview. “Sure. No problem,” he told them, although he’d never been through a job interview before. He’d worked for his wife’s oldest brother at the family business after high school, then he’d lucked into this job when her brother decided he was no longer necessary—the asshole.
He’d been a gopher for her brothers, running out for lunches or supplies for the office, getting coffee. His wife’s father and brothers imported small American appliances like toaster ovens and curling irons. He’d never gotten to handle his own account, not even a little one. Now, he was being promoted in a job he’d only had two months.
The business wasn’t exactly legal, but he wasn’t involved in any of the ugly stuff. He helped attract new clients, got the paperwork signed, then collected whatever portion they could pay up front and delivered the cash with their signed agreements to the room behind the bar. For that he got close to one hundred U.S. dollars a day. Now, they were going to pay him three times that, plus a place in California. If he got the job.
He pulled at his collar as he watched for his bag to come around the carousel. He hoped he’d packed the right things. He was wearing his best suit. He’d brought one other, a pair of khakis and three button-downs. All white, or they had been when he bought them. Considering the other travelers, his shirt was sort of yellow now. His best suit hadn’t been worn since his wedding. The other one was a hand-me-down from his wife’s second brother, Arturo, the shortest in the family, and so the closest to Luis’s size.
The green U.S. Army duffle he’d swindled out of some American kid for twenty dollars came rolling down the carousel ramp. The sight of it made him proud. Slinging it over his shoulder, he made it through immigration without any problems, using the visa they’d sent him. He spotted a man with his name printed on a paper attached to a clipboard.
Luis raised his hand and cleared his throat. “I’m Luis Rosario.”
“Mr. Rosario,” the man said, reaching for his bag. “Please follow me.”
Luis handed him the duffle. If Laura’s asshole brothers could see him now. This job was going to be the best thing that ever happened to him.
The man opened the rear door of a black town car, and Luis got in. Luis stared at his surroundings, nothing like the shitty little town he’d come from: no dirt on the road, no smoking cars, and no farm animals in the streets.
The ride took almost an hour. By the time the car stopped, Luis was so pumped up about his new job he could hardly sit. The driver opened his door and nodded him toward a white door centered beneath a row of shattered second-story windows.
Luis frowned at the battered building.
“I’ll take care of your bag, sir,” the driver said, leaving Luis with nothing to do except get out.
He cleared his throat and crossed the gravel parking lot toward the warehouse. Maybe this was where they parked or something.
He knocked on the door, hoping someone would come out to meet him, but a loud voice echoed from inside. “Venga.”
Luis took a last look back at the driver, sitting behind the wheel with a newspaper, then pulled open the heavy metal door.
The smell inside was putrid—steamy and hot like a dead fish caught in the engine of a boat. How was it possible that no one else noticed it?
“Rosario.”
Luis dropped his hands to his sides and turned toward the voice.
The man in front of Luis was easily six inches taller than he, easily taller than even Laura’s tallest brother Juan. With sandy brown hair and light brown eyes, he wore a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt with the tan of an athlete. Despite the suit, Luis felt underdressed. “I’m so glad you could join us,” the man said in Spanish, offering his hand. “You can call me Brad.”
Luis shook it firmly, then rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, trying to get over the stink. His eyes watered. He blinked hard.
“Oh, I apologize for the smell. There was a little mess left from the last man in your position. It’ll be cleaned up soon.”
What would he be doing in his new job? If it was handling dead fish, he didn’t want it.
“I run the operation here, along with three others. You’ll never meet them,” Brad said. “If you need anything, I’ll be your contact. Mostly, you’ll be on your own. Before we begin, I need to remind you of the nature of our business. Since you’re here, you’ve agreed to take this position. You are to discuss the job with no one. Understand?”
Luis nodded. It had been like that with his last job, too. The money was good enough to keep his mouth shut then. It was three times better now.
“You’ve handled money for us before, but you’ll be dealing with a much larger quantity and, more importantly, the cargo itself.”
Luis wondered how much.
“The money was an issue for our last man. He felt the need to help himself to some of what wasn’t his.”
“I would never do that, sir.”
“Good, Mr. Rosario. That’s what I like to hear. Come. Let me show you the office before you go to your new home.” The two walked across the warehouse to a boxlike office in the far corner.
Luis tried to be polite, but the smell was making him nauseous. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva and tried to quell the urge to gag outright. A few more minutes, then he’d be outside.
The man opened a solid door and stepped back as Luis passed him to enter the office.
A man was seated behind the desk. Luis halted and stepped back. Brad blocked his path. Lui
s stumbled, catching himself on the door jam. The man behind the desk wasn’t moving. The room was filled with a low buzzing like the cheap halogen light in his living room at home. He glanced around the room, trying to place it.
When he turned back to the body, though, he found the source of the humming noise. The cloud of flies around the head was so thick, Luis had thought he was seeing the back of a man’s head. Slowly the bloodied holes of the eyes and mouth came into focus. “Oh, God,” he gasped. Luis recognized the half-eaten face. He vomited on the concrete floor.
Manny. It was Manny. Luis covered his nose and mouth, but the smell was overpowering. Brad stood off to one side, calmly, as Luis took a series of quick breaths. Unable to hold it, he retched again. He pressed his hands to his knees. “Oh, Dios. Dios.” He choked on a mouth full of sobs and let them out in a long, struggled chain. The tears ran down his cheeks. He couldn’t contain himself. Stop crying, idiota!
“Oh, no. No, no, no,” he blubbered.
He felt a hand on his arm. He tried to sop up the tears with the sleeve of his suit.
Brad handed him a handkerchief. Luis took it. The small gesture of kindness sent Luis into a stream of crying again.
“Shh,” Brad said. “It’s going to be fine. Really. Calm down.”
Luis used the handkerchief to wipe his mouth. His heart pulsed a trumpet’s beat across his chest and thumped like drums through his arms. It was pumping so hard, he felt it in his fingers and toes. “¿Qué pasó?” he asked without thinking.
“Mr. Hernandez didn’t follow directions.”
Luis was crying again. Oh, God. He never followed directions. He was going to die just like Manny. He didn’t want this job. He wanted to go home, be nagged by his wife and annoyed by his children.
“I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Rosario, but it was not something as simple as a little mistake. Mr. Hernandez broke the rules. He knew better than that. I left him here to help you understand how seriously we take the rules.”
Luis tucked his head down like he used to when he got seasick on his wife’s father’s boat. It wasn’t helping now.
“Here, breathe into this.”
Luis took the paper bag and blew into it.
“Slowly,” Brad directed.
Listen to what the man says. Do exactly what he says.
After several minutes, Brad gently pried the bag from Luis’s hands and dropped it on the floor. Over his shoulder, the remains of Manny were buzzing at him. Brad closed the door to the office and with Manny out of sight, Luis was finally able to catch his breath. He felt like he needed to blow his nose, but looking down at the handkerchief that belonged to the killer, he didn’t dare. He wiped his eyes and then his nose and sniffled quietly.
“The rules are simple, Mr. Rosario.”
Luis shook his head.
“Yes, they are.”
“No. It is not that, sir,” Luis stuttered, the pressure of the man’s hands like two concrete blocks on his shoulders.
“What, then?”
“I-I don’t think I’m good for the job. Probably you need somebody different.”
Brad lifted his hands off Luis’s shoulders and for a moment, Luis thought everything would be fine. He closed his eyes and rested them for a nanosecond, hoping in another minute he would be on his way home. The thought of going home almost made him cry again, but he held himself together, barely. What he saw as he opened them made it clear he wouldn’t be going home. Not outside a body bag, anyway.
Brad held a gun.
Luis didn’t dare look around. There was nowhere to go. He caught his lower lip in his teeth. Oh, damn. Damn, he was going to cry again.
“You’re the man for the job. And if you’re not, I’m afraid that this will have been your last job interview.”
Luis swallowed hard. The tears were streaming down his face, making it hard to see, but at least he wasn’t sobbing. He didn’t let himself think about how his father-in-law had warned him he would end up like this. Oh, Jesus. Laura’s brothers would be laughing over his grave. He didn’t want anyone to laugh at his funeral.
“Now, I’ll explain the rules. Then, you can get settled.”
Luis exhaled.
“Rule number one, don’t ever steal money from us.”
Luis wouldn’t steal money. Stupid Manny. Stupid, stupid Manny.
“You understand?”
Luis nodded quickly. “Oh, yes sir. Yes, sir. I would never steal money, Señor Brad. I promise. Never.”
“Rule number two is that if you get caught by the police, you know nothing, and you’re on your own. You don’t know me, you’ve never seen me, or anyone else who works here.”
“On my own. I don’t know you or them. I understand.”
“Rule three is that you don’t ever leave a voicemail about our work, and you write nothing down.”
He felt his gut tighten at the thought of the little notebook. Already, he’d filled it with enough details to end up like Manny. Luis didn’t move.
Brad smiled widely. “Good. Mr. Rosario, you’re going to be great at this job.”
Luis sucked in a few quick breaths, feeling them stick on something in his throat. “Thank you, sir.”
“In fact, I’ve got so much confidence in you that I’m going to give you a raise.”
Luis thought it was some sort of test. “No. It’s okay. I make good money.”
“I want you to take the raise.”
Luis thumbed the edge of his pants, feeling the sweat tickle the small of his back. He didn’t dare move.
“I’m giving you an extra hundred a day for the days you work. Okay? That’s four hundred a day.” The man grinned. The way it carved across his face reminded Luis of a jack-o’-lantern. “I want you to have it.”
Luis hesitated.
“I mean it, Luis. You should take it.”
Luis nodded. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills that filled his fist. He carved off a stack with his thumb and handed it to Luis. “There. Here’s a little to get you settled. Let’s get you to your new place.”
“Thank you.” Luis took the bills and shoved them in his pocket without looking at them. He didn’t want to act rude or greedy. He didn’t want to do anything wrong.
“To welcome you to California, I’ve taken the liberty of having a friend of mine stop by your place tonight.”
“A friend,” the word came out as though it were hooked to a large chunk of food in his throat.
“Her name is Tami, but she’s sort of like a younger Pamela Anderson. Do you know Pamela Anderson?” Brad asked as he opened the limo door.
Luis didn’t answer.
“I thought you might enjoy getting to know some people. She’ll show you whatever you’d like to see.”
When they were both inside the car, Brad opened a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Dewar’s. “Your favorite. Shall we toast?”
Luis took the glass in shaky hands.
“To America,” the man said.
“To America,” Luis answered and let the liquid burn down his throat.
Chapter 12
She was having the dream again. A long, black hallway. Only the smallest crack of hazy amber light at the far end kept it from being pitch black. Cars hummed past on the street. Doors slammed and people yelled in the distance, like couples fighting. Behind it was the faint sound of Diego’s moans. Cameron sprinted down the hall, tripping over her own feet as she stopped to listen. She screamed his name but got no response.
Something streamed through her vision, but she wiped her face. It was dry. The farther she went, the cloudier her vision became until she no longer saw the walls and floor. Diego’s moans grew more faint as though he were being moved farther away. The light dimmed until there was only darkness. Running grew more strenuous like the floor was sand. Then, her body was heavier, harder to move. She might have been in water, and she could make no noise. Finally, she quit. Dro
pped to her knees. A scream pierced the blackness. Light flooded the hallway. She woke with a start.
In her arms, Nate let out a small cry that kept her from jumping out of the chair. She surveyed the dark room, the back of her neck cool with sweat. Little more than an hour had passed. Pregnant, she had the dream most nights, but it was less frequent since Nate’s birth. Perhaps the sleep deprivation of having a newborn had kept her sleep dreamless.
She laid Nate in his crib, wishing for the same deep sleep. Instead, it would take an hour or more for the adrenaline to fade enough to allow her to sleep again. She made her way through the empty house, the cool wood floor moaning beneath her feet. The sound welcomed her into nighttime wakefulness. In the den, she stared at the blackened TV and considered watching something. As she bent for the remote control, something snapped against a window.
She returned to the hallway and listened. In her bedroom, the clock on the bedside table read 12:12. Her blinds were down. She fingered one and lifted it slowly. The rain had started, a soft patter. She watched the tree beside the house for movement, but the wind was still. She saw nothing in the darkness that would explain the noise.
She went back toward the den. As she reached the doorway, she heard the same light clink. It had come from the direction of Nate’s room. She checked the window again, this time stopping at the one farthest from Nate’s room to check if the angle afforded her a better view. There, silhouetted against her son’s bedroom window, was the figure of a man.
She dropped the blinds and sprinted for the front of the house. Her purse was on the entryway table. With breath pounding, she drew her SIG and threw the front door open. She jumped down the stairs in her socks, soaking them on the wet ground. She rounded the side of the house, gun out.
“Don’t move,” she yelled.
The figure wore a dark raincoat with the hood up. He turned toward Cameron, but it was too dark to make out his features.
“Put your hands up and move slowly.”
He raised his hands.
“Now, turn to face me, nice and easy.”
He shifted slightly, and she saw Diego’s features. She drew in a sharp breath and held it, steadying her hand.
The Rookie Club Thriller series Box Set Page 62