Dirty Angels - Halle Karina - Страница 53

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I went a full week pretending that nothing had happened. Pretending that nothing was eating me from the inside out. I wore my mask every day. I worked with Este on our next targets, our next hand in this game. A trip to Veracruz was becoming more and more possible. But that city no longer stirred fear in my heart, no longer played on bad memories. Those memories meant nothing to me anymore. There was something so much scarier raging just below my surface.

One night I woke up from a nightmare. I think it was the same as I had before, with my father and I fishing, Luisa on the end of the hook. It was hard to remember; the dream shattered into fragments the moment I woke. But the feeling was there. The unimaginable fear. This was the sickness manifesting itself. This was the war coming. This was what happened to me when I no longer had her to placate me.

And then I realized with certainty that I had been a coward this whole time. I was in my bed, safe and comfortable in the life I had created for myself. I wanted for nothing. And yet she, she was with Salvador. She had been there a week already and I couldn’t imagine her state, if she was even still alive. She wanted for everything.

I didn’t go back to sleep. Even though it was the middle of the night, I slipped a robe around me and left the house. I went to sit by the koi pond, the lotus blossoms looking ghostly in the moonlight. I stared at their white purity until the sun came up. Then, in that glow of dawn, I saw more clearly. The flowers were magnificent, but they weren’t as the Chinese scholar had said. There were imperfections on their surface. There were stains. Their beauty didn’t come from the fact that they were untainted, their beauty came from their resilience. They were proud to have grown from mud.

Even if my beauty queen was already dead, I knew what I had to do. There would be dire consequences for my actions, but there already were. What was the difference if I stirred up a little more trouble? At this point, it was pretty much expected of me.

Later that day, I told the men I was going away on a business trip to Cabo San Lucas. Este, being my right-hand man and all, insisted he come along for the journey, but I told him I needed to do this alone. I would be safe and I wouldn’t be long—two or three days, at most. And if I happened upon the wrong people at the wrong time, then that was that. I knew Este would slide right in and replace me anyway.

I was a nervous flier. It was a quick trip across the water, but it still took a lot of composure to not drink all the alcohol available in first class. There was a man in the row across from me who stared at me like he might have recognized me. I only smiled back. Though this was risky, I also knew that most people would never do or say anything to me. Besides, my face might have been out there once or twice but Salvador was right—I wasn’t on anyone’s radar.

Though the airport was closer to San Jose del Cabo than it was to San Lucas, that wasn’t my first stop. I wasn’t lying to Este when I said I had business that needed attending to. This time, I wasn’t going to give an order and watch someone else do it. I was going to get my hands very, very dirty.

It was all for her.

And it seemed the more I did for her, the filthier I got.

Once in Cabo, I took a long stroll around the town. I hadn’t been here in a long time and was shocked to see how much it had changed. What was once a small marina was jam-packed with million-dollar yachts. Cruise ships hovered offshore while drunk teenagers on jet skis did circles in the azure surf. The beaches were filled with dance music and DJs announcing hourly body shots. The popular bars spouted Top 40 hits and celebrity-owned statuses.

The town had no soul. Perhaps this was good for tourists—indeed it was excellent for Mexico’s economy, as were my drugs. But I could never live in a place that catered to the other half. Sure, the town was safe and the drug wars hadn’t littered the streets. But where was the real Mexico? Where was the grit beneath the glamour? Where were the proud flowers rising from the mud?

I spent most of the day walking around, taking in everything. Despite all my misgivings toward the resort town, I still enjoyed myself. I was a tourist, just looking at all the sights. I was a man just looking for a bar, a place to get a drink.

And then I found it. It was barely distinguishable from all the other tourist traps.

Cabo Cocktails.

I went in and sat at the bar. Even though it was a hot, sunny day and nearing three o’ clock, the bar was fairly empty. There was an old man nursing a beer at the other end of the bar and a couple in a booth. That was it.

The bartender, a cute girl with blondish pixie hair, was quick to serve me.

“A gin and tonic,” I told her. “Perfect for a day like today.” I gave her the smile that I knew could remove panties.

She smiled back but I could tell I had no true effect on her. She was probably into women.

“No problem,” she said, and got to work.

“What’s your name?” I asked her while she fished out a can of tonic water.

“Camila,” she said, an edge to her voice that told her not to bother asking for more than her name. But I wasn’t here for her.

I waited until she served me my drink and told me the price, then I asked what I really wanted to know.

“Camila, I’m wondering if you can help me,” I said, smiling again. “You see, there’s a girl who used to work here.”

Her eyes widened. I wasn’t sure what tipped her off I was talking about Luisa; perhaps it was my sharp suit, or maybe she’d been on Camila’s mind. “And I’m very worried about her,” I went on. “Luisa is her name. Have you spoken to her recently?”

She shook her head, her eyes darting around the bar. “No.”

“But she did work here…”

She nodded. She looked to the old man at the end of the bar. I waved at him dismissively. “Don’t worry about him. I just have a few questions and I’ll be out of your way.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m a friend,” I told her. “One of the few that she has these days. So you haven’t seen her around here then? She hasn’t called you?”

“No. No, I haven’t seen or spoken to her since a few days before her wedding.”

“To Salvador Reyes.”

She swallowed. “Yes. Tell me, is she all right?”

“I really hope so,” I said. I really doubt it.

I knocked the rest of the drink back, feeling immediately refreshed and energized, and slid the money toward her. “One more thing.”

“What?” she asked, a bit of impatience mixed in with her apprehension. I could tell she was a tough girl. No wonder Luisa and she had been friends.

“Is your manager around? I’d like to ask him a few questions about her.”

She nodded and jerked her head down the hall. “Bruno. He’s in his office, I think. He comes and goes.”

I grinned at her. “Perfect.”

I waited until she left to go tend to the couple in the booth, then I reached over behind the bar and picked up the knife she used to cut up the lime for my drink.

I caught the man at the end of the bar watching me with mild interest that only tired old men have. I flashed the blade at him and smiled. He shrugged and went back to his beer.

Making sure the blade was hidden from sight, I walked down the hall and paused outside the door that said Bruno Corchado on it. I gripped the knife in my hand, slightly sticky from the lime juice. It would have been better if I had my own, but airplane security wouldn’t have let me fly with it in my boot or in my carry-on. Bastards.

I decided not to knock. I opened the door a crack and poked my head in.

“Camila,” the man grunted in annoyance until he looked up and saw me. His annoyance deepened. He obviously had no idea who I was. Good.

I shut the door behind me. “Bruno Corchado?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

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