“It beats staring at the four walls.” He dug into his pants and pulled out his fat wallet. “Take some money and go get the suits. The store is about a half mile west from the intersection.”
Confused, she stared at him. “You want me to go shopping?”
“Si, I thought you could so we can swim and relax in the hot tub.”
“Aren’t you going with me?”
He shook his head. “Not this time.”
“Why not?”
Santiago met her gaze without flinching, but his expression shifted into a hard mask. He scrutinized her for a long moment and then, as if he made up his mind, he sighed. “I want to make a few calls, la muñequita.”
Fear coiled tight in her belly the way a rattlesnake prepared to strike. “I thought everything was set with Enrique.”
“It is.”
“Then who did you need to call?” And without me here and why.
“Mami,” he said, using the name she knew dated to childhood. By the time they were dating, he’d called his mother Mom most of the time. His use of it now was significant. “And I wanted to talk to Luis and maybe Gabi.”
Despite his casual tone, icy fear formed around her heart and climbed up into her throat. “Why, Santiago? Do you think something bad will happen?”
Sara couldn’t speak any of the possibilities aloud, but they had to be dire. He’d already been shot and never called his family. He sat down on the end of the bed and indicated she should join him. After she had, he put his arm around her, his face turned to look into her eyes.
“Sara, I don’t. I think it will all be the way it’s planned, but no one ever knows. I haven’t talked to them for a very long time so I’d like to call. That’s all. I don’t want you to be upset or scared.”
“Too late for that,” she said. “You’re calling to say good-bye, just in case.”
“No, no. That’s not it. I just need to draw a little strength from my familia.”
She called his bluff. “Then can I call Catie, my employee and my parents?”
Santiago shook his head. “It’s not a good idea, not yet. On Sunday, you can.”
“Are you using the same phone you bought?”
“No, I bought a second one.”
His words knifed into her mind. “You planned it, then.” Sara managed to be calm although inside, her emotions raged.
“Si.”
“But you weren’t planning to tell me?”
“I was, afterward.”
Although she had no real reason to, Sara believed him. His eyes, always windows to his soul, were bright with inner pain. Making the calls meant a great deal to him and so did his family. They always had. “Your mother will be glad to hear from you,” she said. “Tell her I said hola, would you?”
“I will,” he said. “Gracias, la muñequita, mi corazon.”
Sara swallowed tears, sharp as broken glass. “For what?”
“For loving me, for understanding, for letting me do what I must. Be careful, chica, and see how you like the car.”
“I will.” She held out her hand for the keys and he gave them to her with a fistful of bills. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Tener cuidado, Sara.”
“Always,” she told him. “Always.”
The Lincoln handled well in the minimal traffic. On any other occasion, she would’ve obsessed over selecting a swimsuit, but for the first time in her life, Sara bought one off the rack without trying it on. She chose a pair of swim trunks for Santiago and headed back to the hotel. When she let herself in the room, she heard the soft rumble of his voice on the phone. Sara couldn’t determine how, but she knew he was talking to Luis, his older brother. To give him a few more moments of privacy, she ducked into the bathroom and emerged only when she didn’t hear his voice any more.
He stood with his back to the room, gazing out the window at a vacant field. His stance suggested he was troubled. Sara put her hand on the small of his back. “Everything okay?”
“Si, Mami was happy to hear from me and very happy to hear that you’re with me.”
“You told her?”
Santiago nodded. “I did but not why or how.”
“Did you talk to your sister and brother?”
“Yes. Gabi was glad I called, too.” His curt answers revealed his conversation with Luis hadn’t gone as well.
“Was Luis?”
“Si, at first but now he’s angry with me.”
The Luis Ruiz she remembered had a hot temper, but he seldom directed it at his younger brother. If he was mad, he must have a valid reason. “Why?”
“He doesn’t approve of the plan.” Santiago’s voice said the words in a low, flat tone. “He thinks I’m loco to trust Enrique or any of them. But I told him I’m in, there’s no other way out.”
“What did he say?”
Santiago cracked a faint smile. “Do my ears look blistered?”
Sara winced. “It was that bad?”
“Si. I’d rather not talk about it. Did you get the swim clothes?”
Damn Luis. He’d managed to shake Santiago’s confidence, about the last thing he needed. Santiago valued his brother’s opinion and he’d let Luis’ theories haunt him. If possible, Sara would erase the conversation but since she couldn’t, she’d do her best to be cheerful. “Yes.”
“Good. Let’s change and go downstairs, okay?”
“Sure.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. “And Sara, would you do something for me?”
“You know I’ll do anything for you, any time. What is it?”
“Let’s pretend there’s no trouble and enjoy tonight. Let’s unwind and have fun. I don’t want to talk about M13 or tomorrow night or anything. Will you?”
She held him tight in her embrace for a long moment. “Yes, of course. Let’s change and go.”
In the large, too warm atrium Santiago jumped into the deep end of the pool and came up laughing. Sara entered the cool water with slow steps, shivering and giggling. They swam together, splashed and played with something close to the carefree abandon they’d had as teens. When they climbed into the hot tub, she sighed with bliss as her bones all but melted.
She glanced at Santiago. His eyes were closed and he wore a sweet half-smile. She must be playing the game well, she thought, and resolved to continue. He deserved all the peace he could find.
Sara compared last Friday night to this but despite the contrast, said nothing. If she did, it would shatter the illusion she’d worked hard to help create. Last week, she’d come home after delivering and placing the flowers for a wedding, alone and bone-weary. She’d warmed a frozen entrée in the microwave and turned on the television to watch mindless programming. Her loneliness had surrounded her like winter’s cold, but she’d lacked the capacity to even dream of a different future. Santiago had remained in her heart, never forgotten but deep beneath the surface. If Catie or anyone had asked her, she’d said she had no lost loves, no broken dreams, and didn’t need a relationship.
Any suggestion Santiago might burst back into her life or that she’d be with him in another city, in danger, would’ve been rejected. But here she was and despite the years apart, they were in sync as much as ever, maybe more.
Whatever happened, she decided she was where she wanted and needed to be, with Santiago. If she allowed her thoughts to race, they’d overwhelm her and she’d go crazy, so Sara yielded to the fantasy and savored each precious moment they shared – for now.
Chapter Twelve
They continued their fantasy into Saturday but by noon, the strain of pretending wore heavy on both Sara and Santiago. On a whim, they’d spent the morning at the zoo, tucked away within Mohawk Park, but after hours of visiting the exhibits and watching animals, Sara couldn’t manage to keep up the façade.
“Do want to grab a burger or something for lunch?” Santiago asked, but she shook her head. When he caught sight of her expression, he frowned. “Que pasa? Don’t you feel well?”
“I’m all right.” Her headache had returned with force and her nerves were as volatile as old dynamite. “I want to go back to the hotel now, though.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
She wasn’t but he was so they picked up some burgers on the way back to the room. Sara nibbled at hers, but Santiago finished his. Tension crackled like static electricity between them and a hundred questions chewed holes into her consciousness. “I noticed Mohawk Park closes at night,” she said after she gave up finishing the burger. “How’s that going to work?”
“I don’t know but it will.”
“What time is it all supposed to happen?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Enrique’s car will pick me up at the park around ten, then the meeting by the river is at eleven. I should be back by two or three at the very latest.”
Sara made no reply. If she could hang on, endure for the next fifteen hours or so, then maybe she would be able to breathe again. Or she might if her head didn’t explode first. She rubbed her temples and winced.
Santiago noticed. “Te duele la cabeza?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a killer headache.”
Santiago dug out ibuprofen and insisted she rest. He trudged down the hallway for ice and made her a cold compress. After she settled into bed, he covered her and lay down beside her.
“Aren’t you going to sleep?” she asked.
“No. I should but I can’t. I’ll rest and watch you.”
“Make love to me.”
His grin lightened his serious expression, but he shook his head. “You have a headache, la muñequita, so you wouldn’t enjoy it as much. And I need to save my strength for whatever happens at the meeting. Afterward, I’ll fuck you every which way but loose.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Si.”
“Then I’ll hold you to it, Santiago. Will you hold me, then?”
He wrapped his arms around her, and she relaxed as the headache ebbed. She hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep, but she did for a long time. When she woke, feeling better and stiff, it was after five, but Santiago hadn’t moved. He stared at the wall beyond the bed, mouth in a tight, grim line. When she whispered his name, his eyes lit with pleasure. “Hola, Sara.”
Drowsy, head fuzzy, she stretched out her fingers to stroke his face. “Santiago, what time is it?”
He told her and although she knew she should get up, let him prepare for what lay ahead, she didn’t. They lay facing one another, his arms holding her close, caressing and touching for more than two hours. Neither said much, but Sara’s heart brimmed full of love despite her increasing anxiety. Their quiet communion eased some of her pain for the moment. The feeling would fade as the evening unfolded, but she hoped to hold onto a small piece of the connection and peace, enough to see her through the terrible hours ahead.
After he showered and shaved, Santiago donned the bullet proof vest he’d acquired at a pawn shop during their Tulsa travels on Friday. Somehow, she wasn’t sure quite how, he tucked a vial of special effects blood into it, one which should explode on impact. Before he did, she checked his healing wound and put a new bandage over it. He pulled on a tight black t-shirt and jeans. Beneath the shirt, the vest was almost invisible. Sara watched as he tucked a lethal looking knife into one boot and strapped on a shoulder holster with Glock. Then he added a faded denim jacket and glanced at her. “How do I look?”
“Dangerous,” she said. “But sexy as hell, too. You look like one bad hombre.”
Despite his rigid stance, he grinned, the old devil-may-care, wicked, wonderful smile she adored. “That’ll do, then.”
He opened a new bottle of tequila and poured a shot, then shuddered. “Is that a good idea?” Sara asked. “I’d want to be unimpaired.”
He snorted. “I don’t plan to get drunk, querida. Afterward, I might. Want some?”
If she started drinking, she wouldn’t stop until she passed out. “No, thanks.”
The last hour before time to leave, the strain began to manifest. Her headache threatened to surge back with force, and her nervous tummy rolled with queasy waves. Their interaction petered out to the necessary. “It’s time to go,” Santiago said.
Sara picked up keys and purse with a nod. They walked out into the humid night without speaking. To the west, lightening flickered deep within the approaching clouds. “It looks like it’ll storm before long,” she said.
“Si,” he answered. “It does a lot, here.”
His cell phone rang as they climbed into the Lincoln and when his expression soured, Sara guessed the caller was Enrique. After a short, terse conversation, Santiago unleashed a chain of oaths. “Bueno pa nada pedasa de mierda! Chinga tu madre!”
“What is it?”
“Change of fuckin’ plan,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now they’ll pick me up at the Greyhound bus station, downtown. Can you find your way back here?”
The prospect of navigating the unfamiliar streets at night terrified her, but Sara nodded. “I think so, Santiago. But, why?”
“Enrique’s bullshit, to keep me guessing and make me uneasy. God-damn son of a bitch!”
Uneasiness prickled the back of her neck. “I don’t like this, Santiago. How can you trust him now?”
“I can’t. I never could, but I don’t have a choice. He says we’re still on down by the river. We’ll see. Pay attention and come back this same way, Sara.”
He provided directions to reach downtown, then insisted she drop him a few blocks away from the terminal. Santiago handed her a small pistol. “Don’t use it unless you need it. Go back to the hotel and stay there. Don’t let anyone but me in, Sarita. I’ll be back as soon as this is done.”
She pulled the car over to the curb. He’d shifted into gang, bad mother fucker mode, and despite his instructions, he’d become remote and cold. Sara had so many things she wanted to say. I love you, be careful, come back to me unhurt, don’t go, watch your back. Yet, in the few remaining moments, all she said was, “Santiago, I love you. You’re my life and my heart. You always were and will always be.”
“Eres el amor de mi vida. Cada día te quiero más que ayer y menos que mañana,” he said, his voice breaking with emotion. “Adios, amiga.”
She answered him with the old response. “Adios, hombre. Muchas te amo.” Then he vanished, gone into the night, and she watched him until she lost sight of him.
Sara drove back to the hotel and once there, she sat down in the room’s one chair to wait. Television failed to entertain her or hold her interest. Her attempt to read failed too. She considered taking a long, hot bath but rejected the idea. If Santiago needed her for any reason, she wanted to be ready to go. One hour passed, then two. Sara stared at the green numerals on the digital clock beside the bed as the numbers became straight up twelve. Midnight. Maybe he’ll be back in a hour or two. Maybe.
Anxiety crawled through her consciousness with the intensity of fire ants. A little after twelve, the room remained so quiet she heard her breath and footsteps outside the door. She tensed when someone pounded on the door with force.
A Latino flavored voice called, “Abra la puerte! Andale! Andale!”
Santiago warned her not to open the door to anyone else, but she thought she recognized his voice. Sara rushed over and undid the locks. She swung it wide and stopped. “Santiago?” she said, even though she knew it wasn’t him. The man who stood there resembled him very much, but he was older, a little heavier, and his features were less fine. “Hola, Luis.”
“Sara,” he said. “Where’s my brother? Tell me he’s still here, por favor.”
“He’s not. He went to the arranged meeting with M13.”
“Chingao!” Luis moved past her into the room. “Do you know where?”
“Unless they changed it, yes, I do,” she told him. “How did you get here? What are you doing?”
“I flew in from LA, chica. And, I’m trying to save Santiago’s life. Mara Salvatrucha, they plan to kill him, fo
r real. It’s a double cross, a trick. I had a bad feeling about it when he called.”
“He said you were angry.”
“Si and he was a stubborn mule like always. Tell me how to get there.”
She grabbed her keys. “I’m going with you.”
“No, it’s not a place for women.”
Sara pulled out the pistol, a Sig Sauer Santiago had handed her. “I’m not women,” she said. “I’m his woman and I’m going.”
Luis rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time to argue. He may be dead already. Let’s go.”
In the car, she fumbled with the keys because her hands trembled. Luis cussed, then said, “I’ll drive. Tell me where and how to get there.”
“They’re down by the river,” she said as he took off with speed. “How do you know they plan to kill him?”
“I still write for the Times,” he said. “I cover crime and gangs in particular, so I have sources. I’ve kept up with some informants within M13 to know what’s going on. I’ve got one dude who watched Santiago for me. I already knew he was in trouble before he called, and I knew you were with him. After I talked to Santiago, I got in touch with Juan. He told me Enrique plans to kill Javier Morales.”
Her blood turned frigid. “Do they know it’s Santiago and that he’s a cop?”
“I don’t think so,” Luis said as he careened onto the interstate at a high speed. “Where do I exit to get there?”
Sara told him and he nodded. “Do they know he’s your brother?”
“My informer? Hell, no. He’s a druggie and a banger. I wouldn’t want him to know. He thinks I’m doing a story on Javier.”
As they careened through the night, too fast for comfort, Sara wondered how they could stop an execution and asked him. Luis snorted as he lit an unfiltered cigarette. “I’ve called the FBI, told them their agent from Arkansas went rogue, but if they’re not on scene yet, I’ll have to deal with it. Sangre tendrá sangre. It’s a good thing we’re from East LA, not the Valley. Do you know how to shoot, by the way, chica?”
“Si, Luis,” she said. “Santiago taught me, long ago.”
Stranger Danger Page 10
