“How’d you get out?”
“Fire escape. Ran like hell. I got lucky.”
The light turned green and Miller shifted his gaze back to the road. “Do you know who it was?”
“One of them I didn’t recognize. The other was Juan Madrigal.”
“Jesus, Danny,” Miller breathed.
“His reputation precedes him, I’m guessing.”
“I’ve seen his handiwork a time or two.” Miller’s voice was grim.
“Yeah, you’re not the only one. I’ve had a ringside seat.” Danny turned his head away, closing his eyes against memories he spent every waking hour trying to erase. “Where to now?” He was so tired he thought maybe he could live happily just driving around in this car where he would never have to think about anything again.
“Someplace safe,” Miller said. He sounded in control.
“We tried that before.”
Miller shook his head. “No. It’s going to be different this time.” He turned to glance at Danny. “From now on, I’ll be the one protecting you.”
“IF YOU eat the worm, you get to drink for free.”
“What?” Danny raised his eyes from the battered wooden bar, a smile already tugging at his lips.
The girl, who had been watching him from the corner of her eye for the last hour, hopped up onto the stool next to his. Her long hair swung into his face with a blast of pineapple scent, her lightly bronzed skin radiating coconut tanning lotion. She smelled like a piña colada, sticky and sweet.
“I said, if you eat the worm,” she pointed to the mammoth bottle of tequila perched behind the bar, “you get the rest of your drinks on the house.”
Danny laughed. “No, thanks. I’m not that poor.”
“Ah… but I’ll bet you’re that crazy,” she said with a wink.
Danny grinned around his shot glass. “You may have me there.”
“My name’s Amanda.” She offered him slim fingers, cool in his palm. Her thumbnail scraped along his life line when she eased her hand away.
“Danny.”
“So, what are you doing in Mexico, Danny?”
“I’m working.”
Amanda’s eyebrows shot up, her face registering friendly disbelief. “Working?”
“Yep.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“This and that.”
Now it was Amanda’s turn to smile, her eyes sparkling with untamed ideas. “You’re very mysterious.”
She had no idea. “What are you doing down here?” Danny asked, steering the conversation to more neutral territory. “Vacation?”
“Yeah, a trip with friends.” She nodded her head toward the gaggle of girls crowded at the end of the bar, all of them sneaking glances at Danny when they thought he wasn’t looking, waiting for their chance if Amanda couldn’t close the deal.
“Hey, you two want anything?” the bartender asked, using a dirty rag to wipe the space in front of Danny’s elbow, succeeding more in smearing around the remnants of previously spilled drinks than in actually cleaning anything away.
“Yeah, a couple of tequila shots,” Amanda said. “You game?”
Danny didn’t need anyone to tell him this was a bad idea. The last thing he wanted was a complication. But there was something about Amanda he liked, something fearless in her eyes, a kind of manic joy he was already drawn to, curious to see if he could capture some of it for himself. She reminded him of the wild girls he’d known in high school who moved too fast and laughed too loud and didn’t give a shit what the town thought of them because all they cared about was getting out, getting away. Just like Danny. He could feel the beginning sparks of attraction settling in his fingertips and groin; he wondered if Amanda’s neck would taste the way she smelled, if her fruity scent would linger on his tongue. It was all such a bad idea.
“Sure.” He smiled, plucking a red rose from the vase on the bar and tucking it behind Amanda’s ear. “I’m game.”
IT WAS after nine o’clock when Danny finally appeared in the bedroom doorway, his white T-shirt wrinkled and obviously slept-in, his jeans still unfastened at the waist.
“Morning,” he mumbled to Miller, who was sitting on the couch, a lukewarm mug of coffee in his hand.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Miller said. “Some cereal too. But I’m going to have to run out later for groceries. This place isn’t exactly stocked.”
After he’d picked up Danny at the bookstore the day before, they’d come directly to this apartment, one of several the FBI kept for just this purpose: hiding witnesses and informants away from the world. Miller had been lucky this one was available; at least it had two bedrooms and was in a decent part of town. There was even a small balcony off the living room. The last time he’d had to babysit someone like this, he’d slept on a lumpy couch for four days. This stint with Danny promised to last a lot longer; he was glad to have a room of his own.
When they’d arrived, Danny hadn’t asked any questions. Still shell-shocked, Miller had presumed; because during their short acquaintance, he’d already discovered that silence was not Danny’s natural state. Danny’s cut had been oozing blood, and he’d taken a wet washcloth and retreated to his bedroom within minutes. Miller had stayed up late flipping channels on the TV, but Danny hadn’t reappeared.
Now Danny shuffled into the kitchen, clanking dishes so loudly Miller expected to hear the telltale chime of shattering glass.
“Scoot over,” Danny ordered when he returned, waiting until Miller swept his legs off the couch to sit down with his own mug of coffee and a box of Fruit Loops. “Nice cereal selection,” he said. “What am I, five?”
“I said I’d go shopping later.” Miller took a sip of coffee, studying Danny in quick, sidelong glances. “How’s your side?”
“Okay. Think I ripped it open a little when I was running, but it’ll be fine.”
“Do you need to go back to the doctor?”
“Nah. Stitches will be coming out soon anyway.”
Danny munched his way through a handful of cereal. “So, this is where we stay from now on?”
“Yeah.” Miller nodded. “You’re not setting foot out of here for a while.”
Danny groaned. “I’ll go crazy cooped up in here!”
“There’s a TV. I can bring in movies and books. There’s a treadmill so you can get some exercise, and—”
“Whoop-dee-do,” Danny said, making a little twirling motion with his index finger.
“The alternative is dead, Danny,” Miller reminded him, hanging onto his patience by the thinnest of strings.
“Yeah, and whose fault is that? I told you assholes your shitty plan would never work.” Danny set his mug on the floor, tossing the cereal box aside. “How’d he find out about me rolling over anyway? It had to be one of your people.” He stood and took a few agitated steps away from the couch. “Someone from the inside had to have told him. What’s to stop them from doing it again? Madrigal won’t fuck up twice. Then we’ll both be dead.”
“It wasn’t an inside job,” Miller said, his voice quiet.
“Then how’d Hinestroza find out?” Danny demanded. “I sure as hell didn’t volunteer the information.”
Miller stared into his coffee, wishing there were some way to avoid this conversation. When he’d gotten the call last night, he’d momentarily considered ordering someone else to deliver the news. But that would be chickenshit and besides, this was his job. And he always lived up to his responsibilities. “Have you talked to Amanda lately?”
Danny stopped pacing. “Amanda? What does she have to do with it?”
“Have you?”
“Yeah, Miller, I’ve talked to her. Big fucking deal!”
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing!”
Miller didn’t speak, waiting for Danny to come clean.
Danny sighed, ran a hand through his bed-head hair. “I told her to be careful. I didn’t give her any details. Just told her to watch her back. T
hat something might be going down.” Danny froze. “Why? Why are you asking me about Amanda?” His panic-tinged eyes told Miller he already knew the answer.
“They got to her, Danny.” Miller paused, giving the words their due weight. “Before they went to your apartment, they went to hers.”
Danny’s face, only newly restored to its usual color, drained of blood, going whiter than it had been in the emergency room. Miller could see him squaring his shoulders, steadying himself. “How bad?” Danny asked, his voice fierce. “How fucking bad?”
Miller stood, took a step in Danny’s direction, not sure what he meant to offer: a hand, a shoulder, a pat on the back. “She’s alive. But they hurt her. Busted up her face, broke the fingers in her right hand, pulled out a couple of nails—”
A low, animal moan worked its way out of Danny’s throat, increasing in intensity as it burst free. His hands came up to cover his face as he took a lurching step backward. “Oh, my God,” he choked.
“She’s going to be okay, Danny. She’s someplace safe.”
“Oh, yeah? Safe like you said I was safe, Miller? Safe like that?” Danny kicked hard, sending his half-full coffee mug flying to shatter against the baseboard.
“Hey!” Miller cried as coffee splashed against the bottoms of his jeans. “Calm down!”
“Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down! They could have killed her or hurt her worse than they did. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. You don’t give a shit about her or me either. Why wasn’t someone watching her?”
“It was an oversight,” Miller explained with a calm he didn’t feel. “We didn’t think they’d go after Amanda. We didn’t think she knew anything.”
Danny’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re saying it’s my fault? Because I talked to her, told her to be careful, it’s my fault now?” He took a step toward Miller. “What about you, Mr. I’ve-got-it-covered? Maybe you fell down on the job, aren’t quite as slick as you’d like to think. Could that be it?”
“Technically all of this is your fault, isn’t it, Danny?” Miller shot back. “If you weren’t running drugs none of this would have happened. Amanda would be fine instead of her face looking like a kid’s art project.” The thin string securing Miller’s patience disappeared into nothing; his ability to hit the jugular was not lost after all.
“Fuck you!” Danny cried, his face crumpling. He moved forward, arm cocked and aimed at Miller’s jaw. A quick spin of Danny’s body and Miller had him pinned, Danny’s back to his front, Miller’s arms wrapped around him tight.
“Stop it!” Miller commanded. “Stop, goddamn it!”
Danny bucked and thrashed in his arms. Their strength was evenly matched and Miller couldn’t hold him for much longer. His face was pressed into Danny’s neck, the soft, dark hair tickling his skin. He could smell sweat and smoke and a faint whiff of long-ago soap. For the first time in his career it hit him how absurdly intimate it was to hold a suspect this way. Danny’s taut muscles flexed under his hands, his ass arched back as he tried to break free, and his stubble-strewn cheek rasped like a rough tongue against Miller’s own. Miller released Danny with a stumbling shove, pushing him away.
Jesus Christ. Jesus. Miller ran a shaking hand over his face, breath coming in short gasps. Danny stood across from him, panting, his body visibly relaxing as the anger burned away.
“When did you find out about Amanda?” Danny asked, his voice raw, like tree branches snapping in a winter storm.
Miller stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Last night, late. A neighbor heard her screaming and called the cops. Madrigal was gone by the time they got there. The cops called us from the hospital.”
“Where is she? I want to see her.”
Miller shook his head. “No. That’s not possible. It’s too dangerous. We’re protecting her, Danny.”
“I need to see her, Miller.”
“No,” Miller repeated. “But you can talk to her on the phone. That’s the best I can do.”
“Right now,” Danny demanded. “I want to talk to her right now.”
Miller pulled his cell phone from his back pocket, refusing to acknowledge the tremble in his fingers, and dialed. “Sutton here. He wants to speak with Amanda.” Miller passed the phone to Danny, careful that their hands didn’t touch.
“AMANDA? YOU there?” Danny smashed the phone against his ear, as though he could see Amanda if he only got close enough to her voice.
“Danny?” Amanda’s speech was thick, like she was talking around a mouthful of cotton or a system full of painkillers. Considering what had been done to her, both were reasonable possibilities. Danny squeezed his eyes shut. “Danny, is that you?”
“Yeah, hon. It’s me.”
Amanda took a gulping breath and began to weep, unable to form words that Danny could understand. He turned away from Miller, lowering himself to the arm of the couch. “You’re okay now,” he said. “They’re not going to hurt you anymore.”
“I didn’t want to tell them anything, Danny,” Amanda sobbed. “I—”
“I know you didn’t.”
“They came to the door and said they were worried about you, they thought maybe you were going against Hinestroza. I told them you wouldn’t do that. But they barged in anyway, asking me all these questions about you… about how you’d been acting, about that night at the police station, who you’d been with, whether you’d said anything since then. I didn’t want to answer, Danny.” Amanda let out a wail. “I tried to lie, but they didn’t believe me. And then they started hurting me and I… and I—”
“Shhh,” Danny calmed her, his free hand clenching into a fist. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, honey,” he whispered.
“Are they going to come back?” Amanda asked in the smallest voice Danny had ever heard. It scared him. He wasn’t used to Amanda being anything less than the loudest one in the room, her sassy mouth taking up all available space.
“No one’s going to hurt you again. I promise. The FBI is going to take care of you.”
“What about you? Hinestroza isn’t going to give up. They’ll keep looking for you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I always land on my feet, right?” He forced out a strained laugh.
“It’s not funny, Danny.”
“I know it’s not.” He paused, keenly aware of Miller standing behind him. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will. They said I can’t see you right now.” Amanda sounded close to tears again, her voice vibrating.
“No. It’s too dangerous. But when this is all over, I’ll be there. You hear me?”
“I hear you. Be safe, Danny.”
“You, too, honey.”
Danny closed the phone with a snap, tossing it over his shoulder to land with a muffled thump on the couch.
“How was she? Did she—” Miller began.
Danny held up a hand. “I don’t want to talk right now,” he said, enunciating each word carefully. He thought throwing another punch might be in his future if Miller underwent a sudden personality shift and became chatty. But Miller took the not-so-subtle hint and retreated, the sound of running water following him from the kitchen.
Danny fell backward onto the sofa and covered his eyes with his arm. Amanda. With her face wrecked, her bones shattered, her painted fingernails ripped out. Danny could remember exactly how she’d looked on the night they’d met. When her smile was still carefree and her heart not yet broken. When she’d worn a white dress and a crimson flower in her hair and danced barefoot in the street. When they’d both been young and stupid and drunk and Danny had thought wanting men could be limited to the time he spent in a nine by twelve foot cell and Amanda would be the one to save him. But instead he’d destroyed her. Made her a criminal, torn apart her hopes. Don’t forget almost getting her killed.
One more guilt-ridden entry on the laundry list of his sins.
“I’M BACK,” Miller called, shutting the door with his foot.
“Did you get the pizza?”
>
“Yes,” Miller sighed, “I got the pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, just like you asked. And the beer you wanted. And the bourbon. And the Marlboros. And—”
“I don’t need the whole rundown, but thanks.” Danny grabbed the greasy pizza box. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the duffel bag slung over Miller’s shoulder.
“That’s your stuff.” Miller let the bag fall to the floor.
“What do you mean, my stuff?”
“From your apartment. Clothes, mainly.”
Danny set down the piece of pizza he’d been about to shove into his mouth. “Um… far be it from me to interfere with the workings of the great FBI, but isn’t that a little stupid? To go to my apartment and then come here? Couldn’t someone have followed you?”
Miller moved around Danny to the refrigerator, arms burdened with provisions. “Yes, Danny, that would have been stupid. That’s why I had someone go to your apartment right after I picked you up yesterday, when we knew Madrigal was long gone, and get your clothes. Then he took the bag back to my office, on the off chance he was followed, and I picked it up today.” He shut the refrigerator. “I’m good at my job, Danny. You don’t need to worry.”
“Let’s just hope you’re better than the guys who were supposed to be watching my apartment,” Danny commented dryly, snagging a beer from the six-pack in Miller’s hand. “Want some pizza?”
“Yeah, fine.” Miller was knocked off balance by Danny’s easy banter. He had expected Danny to remain morose and angry after the conversation with Amanda. But an hour later he had searched Miller out for conversation, still a little distant but close enough to normal that he was able to resume bitching about the lack of food. For all his tough demeanor, it was clear that Danny was a man who couldn’t hold a grudge for long—fury and petulance a costume he wore occasionally, but not a permanent ensemble.
It took them only ten minutes to devour the pizza before Danny moved on to a pint of ice cream, while Miller settled in with a beer. There was nothing good on TV but he kept changing channels anyway, Danny telling him to stop every once in a while so he could make fun of an infomercial or smirk along with canned sitcom laughter.
Dreamspinner Press Year Three Greatest Hits Page 47
