by E. J. Mellow
“That’s Clara.” Ramie studies her trailing kisses along Carter’s jaw. “I wouldn’t doubt if you’ve seen her before.”
“Why’s that?”
“Let’s just say, she gets around.”
I don’t have to pretend to be grossed out to make my next face.
Of course. Leave it to Carter to find that type of woman so quickly.
I force my heart rate to stay even, but it’s like trying to keep a soda can from bursting open after shaking it. Friggin’ Carter. He’s compromising this whole goddamn operation by being here, and the fact that he doesn’t trust me to handle this part on my own does little to silence the rage monster growing inside.
“So.” I return my attention to my companion, ignoring the whispering laughs coming from the other side of the room. “Has Clara gotten around with you?”
Ramie’s eyes light up with pleasure from my question. “Would it hurt my chances if she has?”
“And what makes you think you had a chance to begin with?”
Ramie leans forward, laying a large hand on mine. “When you sat down, mi rosa.”
My heart stutters. Mi rosa. Mi rosa. A dark face smiles down at me. Come here, mi rosa. I blink away the memory, my skin exploding with goose bumps. What was that?
Schooling my features into another blush, I try settling my jumping heart rate. “That was very smooth,” I chasten.
He doesn’t comment or remove his hand from mine. “Do you want another drink?” He nods to my full glass. “You don’t seem to like that one very much.”
The sound of Carter’s low chuckle hits against my eardrum again. “No.” I lean back, slipping my hand from his. “I should be going actually.” Something about this situation, now that Carter’s here, is raising every red flag.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I paint on a coy smile. “I’m not one who usually stays long in the company of mostly dangerous men.”
“Then let me walk you home.” He stubs out his cigarette on the table and stands. “I wouldn’t want you to run into any other such men on your way back.”
Sometimes it’s too easy.
“Really?” I say with raised brows. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Abilia.” He grabs my hand, helping me up, and I take in his six-foot-plus height. “It would be good for you to remember I never have to do anything.”
“Oh.” I breathe out, feigning a fluster. “Then by all means, walk me home.”
He hooks my arm into his. “I intend to.”
As we pass the bar heading to the exit, he tells me to wait at the end while he has a word with the bartender. Getting ready to eavesdrop, I keep from frowning when I see Ramie writing a note instead.
My mind races as to what that could mean, when Carter stands in my periphery, making his way toward me.
My hackles raise. Breathe, I tell myself. Just breathe. Don’t remove the small blade strapped to your spine and stab him with it.
As Carter reaches my side, casually leaning on the bar, I stand seething, while remaining calm, but wanting to murder, while breathing evenly. The overwhelming amount of Clara’s perfume that clings to him makes me want to gag. Jesus, how can he stand it? Glancing to his heavy-bosomed companion, I find my answer.
“You’ve got some nice stems coming out of those shorts, beautiful,” he says with a slight New York accent.
Wrapping my hand around the edge of a stool, I ignore the light crunch as the wood splinters. “And that’s a nice rat that died on your upper lip,” I say in Spanish.
Carter merely wiggles his ridiculous mustache and gives me a wink.
I’m.
Going.
To.
Kill.
Him.
But before I get the chance, Ramie hands his finished note to the bartender, telling him he’ll be back later, forcing Carter and I to turn away from each other.
“Was he bothering you?” Ramie asks, returning to my side and watching Carter order his drinks.
“No, just some stupid gringo thinking I didn’t understand English.”
Ramie’s eyes stay pinned on Carter as he walks away, smoothly sliding back into his booth and handing Clara her beer. She puts it down with disinterest while taking his hand to glide up her thigh.
Gross.
“Do you want me to speak to him?” Ramie asks, and I actually hesitate because the temptation to find out how quickly Carter’s stupid mustache would fall off is really enticing.
“No.” I loop my arm into Ramie’s again. “I’d just like to get that walk home now.”
He studies me a moment more before the shadow in his gaze lightens. “Then that’s what you’ll get.”
Gliding us to the exit, he returns his attention to Carter one last time, allowing me the opportunity to glare as well.
But if my K-Op partner feels either of our stares, he ignores it, too busy listening to what Clara wants to do to him when they’re alone. And from the crude and rather complex descriptions, I know they won’t be in public much longer.
Yeah, the floor’s all his tonight.
Leading Ramie to Jules’s and Akoni’s hotel, because no way would I show him where I was staying, we weave through a fair number of people still out on the winding village streets. I caught a glimpse of our tech Ops as we left the square, having moved from their position on the roof to pass us on the street. As Akoni and I caught eyes, he gave me a small headshake, letting me know he wasn’t aware of Carter’s plan to go rogue.
I suck the side of my cheek in silent frustration. All of this is just another reason why I work alone.
“So.” I glance to Ramie as we walk side by side, his hands now resting casually in his pockets. “What do you do in Cuetzalan?”
“What makes you think I do anything in Cuetzalan?”
I laugh. “Ramie, you’ll have to answer some of my questions.”
“I already told you, Abilia.” He peers down at me. “I never have to do anything.”
I allow myself one eye roll before continuing in Spanish. “Okay, how about this. For every one of my questions, you can ask one in return?” I know this is entering dangerous territory, but I don’t see any other way. Plus, I lie for a living. I think I can handle this.
He stops to take out another cigarette, regarding me with lidded eyes as he lights up and takes a drag. “Okay,” he says, blowing smoke to the side. “I work for my family’s business.”
“Their business is in Cuetzalan?”
“Is that your second question?”
“Whoops.” I play innocent. “No, ignore that one.”
His eyes dance playfully as we start forward again. “Okay, while you think of your next question, here’s mine. What’s a pretty girl like you doing traveling alone?”
I frown. “What’s wrong with traveling alone?”
“Ah, ah,” Ramie tsks. “That’s answering a question with a question. That’s not allowed.”
“Seeing as I made up the game, I’m saying it is.”
An amused rumble escapes his throat. “No, Abilia, it isn’t.”
“Bien.” All right. “I’m the only child, and my parents aren’t fit enough to travel with me. Plus, I don’t mind being alone.” First rule in lying successfully: stay close to the truth.
“No,” he says, watching me from the side. “I don’t suppose you do.”
Pushing the conversation along, I continue to ask in his native tongue. “What’s your family’s business?”
“We work in coffee,” he answers, like he’s had to say this line a thousand times.
“Ah, well that makes sense.”
He raises a brow in question.
“Your clothes.” I gesture to his outfit.
“What about them?”
“They’re really nice. If you’re family works in coffee, especially in Cuetzalan, you’re obviously doing well for yourselves.”
“Perceptive and beautiful,” he says as we keep pace up a small hill. I watch an ol
der lady almost bow at the waist as we pass. She’s the fourth person who’s shown Ramie such respect—respect with a touch of fear. If his family truly is in coffee, they would almost certainly have a connection with the Oculto. Any business as big as a coffee distributor in a town that’s famous for its brew wouldn’t be able to get out of a partnership with them. Now I just have to figure out which “family” he’s really the prince of.
“And yes, we do okay,” he continues before taking another puff of his cigarette. His heartbeat remains steady, his features calm.
“How much longer do you have in town?” he asks.
“Second question?” I hold up two fingers.
He nods.
“I’m here for about two weeks, traveling around the area, but can make the stay longer if needed.”
He catches my meaning with a dark grin. “Good to know.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
I almost forgot how nice it is to flirt with someone who’s worthy of it. Even if he might be a murderous, biochemical weapon–trafficking mobster or a spoiled child of a coffee empire. A girl’s gotta find the perks in her job somewhere.
“We’re here.” I nod to the small hotel on the corner. Ramie sweeps his gaze over the stone building before turning back to me, regarding me.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” He steps closer, brushing a brown lock of my hair from my shoulder and playing with the end before letting it go.
“I still have a question before you can ask another one,” I point out.
He shakes his head. “We’ve stopped playing that game.”
“We have?”
He nods.
“Well, that’s not fair.” I pout. “I didn’t get to ask my last question.”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Abilia, life’s never fair?”
I give a humorless laugh and without thinking say, “We don’t need people to tell us that. Life shows us all on its own.”
His gaze grows intense at my words, penetrating but with a rim of softness, a lens focusing on what it was trying to capture all night. And as our eyes remain locked, everything in me is yelling idiot for talking so freely, but before I can turn away or make light of the situation, like a ripple in the air I catch an odd wave of compassion from him, the shadowed energy of a shared soul even though we are perfect lying strangers. In a blink it’s gone, but I’m still left with the residual haze of it. What the hell? Stepping back, I shake off the sensation.
“Yes.” Ramie’s voice comes out in a deep rumble. “Life certainly does.”
I give him a wobbly smile, repainting the face of the girl he thinks he’s talking to while my skin grows warm against the blade I have hidden along my spine.
“You never answered my question though.” Ramie drops his cigarette and stubs it out on the cobblestones. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Um, I wanted to hike some trails in the mountains.”
“The mountains?”
“Yes.”
“They can be dangerous.” He pushes his hands into his front pockets again. “Do you have a guide?”
I nod. “But what do you mean by dangerous? A lot of wild animals?”
“I’ve just heard that it’s best to go with someone who knows the area. Easier not to get lost.”
“Are there any specific areas I should stay away from?”
He smiles. “I’m sure your guide will know if there are. I don’t go into the mountains enough to know.”
Nice deflection.
“It was a pleasure seeing you safely home, Abilia.” He takes my hand and places a gentle kiss against the knuckles. “I’ve got to get back to the bar. I promised a few friends a card game, but I think fate had a part in us running into each other tonight. I hope it works its magic again soon.”
I look into Ramie’s jet-black eyes, taking in his unreadable expression with his indiscernible scent and steady pulse, an invisible man standing in a world of color.
“Yes,” I say. “I hope so too.”
34
3
CUETZALAN, MEXICO: 2205 HOURS
He steps out of a small bodega, and I watch crouched on a shadowed roof as his tall form slides around a corner. Ramie is not going back to the bar, and I wet my lips in anticipation as I follow him from above, slinking silently from building to building, another spot of dark in the night. I made quick work of changing into the black durable leotard I had stashed in my purse, before catching up with Ramie’s trail. He might not have a scent, but his hand-rolled cigarettes do, and every whiff of that vanilla-and-spice puff brought me straight to him.
He turns left, descending down crooked stairs, and I balance beam across a ledge, staying a few feet behind. An older gentleman greets him at the bottom, and I duck into a covered windowsill. I’m nothing but a moonless night as I listen to him talk about the last football game and the final score. I resist a yawn.
Come on, friend. Tell me something good.
After patting the man’s shoulder, Ramie sets off again, his pace quickening, and I twist, crawl, and twirl from one roof to the next, never removing him for long from my sights.
He enters the main town square, the church bell a sleeping giant at the other end as he crosses over the empty cobblestone space, the surrounding storefronts and restaurants closed and dark.
I internally curse as I look for the quickest path across from where I am above, but the only way is to go around. Even though night, with no one else out, I’d most certainly be seen making my way through the center.
I pounce forward, the sound of my tread nonexistent as I carefully navigate the delicately tiled terracotta roofs. Ramie enters an alley on the other side, and I speed up, but when I round the square and leap across the gap of buildings, made by a street below, I slink to a stop.
The narrow ally he walked into is quiet, and peering down, I catch no sign of life. I sniff the air. There’s a hint of his sweet smoke, but in the direction from which we came. He hasn’t lit up again.
Where’d you go, little fly?
Hooking my leg over the ledge, I drop from three balconies to land crouched on the ground. A dog barks in the distance, and I slide against the wall, looking left and then right down the inky cobblestone path.
Dark…stillness…nothing.
Crap.
Opening my senses as wide as I can, I listen while tasting the air, but besides the sounds of a few TVs, animals skittering about, and late-night meals being prepared, there’s nothing identifiably him.
Leaning my head against the stone facade, I close my eyes, resisting a frustrated growl.
I rarely lose a target, even in streets like these that bend and turn in unexpected places. Rolling my shoulders, I let out a short breath before swinging back onto the nearest roof, determined to spend a few more minutes searching. But as my time ticks down without so much as a crumb to follow, I finally let out the growl I held in earlier and head home. As I pass the last place I saw Ramie, the alley still empty and quiet, my skin prickles with a fortune-teller’s promise.
Even though I might have lost him tonight, I have a feeling he’ll appear again, but not a second before he wants to be seen.
35
Nashville
My phone reads 1:00 a.m., and Carter still hasn’t returned to our hotel. Part of me wants him to stay out, but the other part, the slowly simmering one, wants him to show up so I can finally let out my rage from earlier at the bar. Plus, losing Ramie didn’t help.
Tonight feels like a total botch, and curling my fingers into my sheets, I stare up at the bed’s soft white canopy. We have to meet Jules and Akoni early tomorrow—well, technically today—to trek into the mountains and visit one of the locales marked as a possible Oculto operational territory. I could lie awake for a few more hours, wait on his ass, or I could get some sleep and not be a complete grump in the morning.
As if Ceci were in the room, her voice fills my head. It’s not so much that you’re not a morning person. It’s that you’r
e more like a morning monster.
With a frustrated huff, I slap off my bedside lamp and settle further into my sheets, because in all honesty, whether or not Carter comes home tonight makes little difference in him escaping my wrath.
I play with the white lace on the bottom of her dress as she sits at our kitchen table humming a tune.
She’s in my dreams again, my mother, and like always, we start out happy.
I glance up at her, her face nothing but a sunspot reflecting in my eyes. The blurred edges of her features are silhouetted by bright-orange wisps of hair, a similar shade to my own, and her laughter fills the room. My little flower, are you fixing my dress? She reaches down, and I reach up, but then she’s gone, and a dark form grabs me instead. Slight panic, then I relax, for I know this man. Mi rosa, he says in a deep voice. Come here, mi rosa. And I go to him willingly. His scent is of the earth, and his face is rough under my hand. Mi rosa, he whispers again and kisses my cheek. I giggle at how it tickles my skin. The three of us are happy, but like always it lasts only a moment. For then it’s the thump thump of my mother’s heartbeat and the thump thump of her feet fast against the ground. You can’t take her! The deep voice bellows all around. Stop! It calls again. But we don’t stop. Until we are forced to. Until I fall and fall and fall. And then I’m crying and scared and there’s so much noise and so many people—a high-pitched scream and a thwack and another loud thump. Don’t you dare touch her! A man’s voice roars. More scuffling. Then I’m flying. Wind whips past my ears, muffling all noise, all except my mother’s heartbeat. Thump thump, it pounds into my head. Thump thump, it carries us away. I want to scream Mama! But I can’t. I want to scream Stay here! But I don’t know how.
“Nashville.” A hand caresses my shoulder. “Nashville, wake up.”
I blink to a figure above me in the dark, green eyes peering down. “You were having a nightmare,” he says softly, and my breathing hitches as I twirl away, pinning him to the bed.
