by Ann Aguirre
In the light cast by the small table light, his onyx eyes looked flat and dead. “I don’t work for them anymore. If I was still on the job, why send someone else to finish it?” He hesitated and then added, “I found the money four days ago, and I didn’t touch it. Go see for yourself.”
A bluff, she thought. Not a bad one, but she already knew Rey was a fantastic liar. “Oh yeah? Where is it then?”
“Smuggler’s compartment in the backseat, left side. It’s in a silver case.”
That shook her a little. He did know where to find the money. At any point during the last few days, he could’ve stolen the Marquis and left her stranded with nothing. Instinct told her to go check, make sure he hadn’t stolen any, but she couldn’t afford to turn her back on him.
“I’m supposed to believe that you decided you’d rather bone me than collect for killing me? You’re one sick puppy, Porfirio.”
Ah, that hit a nerve. Something like pain passed behind his empty eyes, a shadow sliding through an alley. Rey rested his hands on his knees, palms up. She knew his posture was intended to convey nonthreatening intent.
“At first you were just a job,” he said quietly. “And then I got to know you. I realized Serrano’s man had lied to me. I only commit to taking out people I’m sure deserve it. Unlike most, I’m particular about my contracts.”
“Sure you are.”
“If you’ll let me, I’ll show you the file they gave me.”
She considered. It might be a ruse intended to distract her. Once she started reading, he’d take the gun, finish the job, and drive the Marquis to Vegas, along with the rest of her cash. Logically, it didn’t make sense that he hadn’t already done that. There had been no reason for him to hang around in the middle of nowhere for four days, if he already knew how to complete the job. Rey could have snapped her neck at any time.
“Get it.” She gestured with the Beretta.
Moving slowly, he went to the living room and came back with his jacket. He retrieved a cell phone from a hidden interior pocket. Rey turned it on, pushed a few buttons, and then handed it to her. “Hit the bottom button to scroll down.”
“Ruthless criminal,” she read aloud, cherry-picking the juiciest bits. “Participated in her father’s scheme to cheat the house, stole millions, and then killed him for his cut.” Kyra looked up, eyes wide in disbelief. “This is what they told you? Why all the lies? Don’t you assholes just take the money and do the job? Who cares about why?”
“I do. I wouldn’t have taken the job if I’d known the truth.”
“What difference does the truth make to such an accomplished liar?” Fury and anguish balled up in her stomach, tangling into knots: unshed tears and barbed wire. “I guess you figured out I didn’t kill my dad.”
“I know that. And I understand why you played Serrano. You really loved your old man. What are you going to do now?”
“I should kill you. But the sex was pretty good, so I think I’ll just leave you here. If I see you again, I will shoot you.”
“When this guy doesn’t report in, they’ll send someone else. If he doesn’t get the job done, there will be another. They’ll just keep coming. When are you going to sleep? You can’t do this alone, Kyra. It’s amazing you got as far as you did by yourself.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea. Call the woman with the gun incompetent.” She raised the nose.
For the first time, he showed signs of agitation, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that. You need somebody watching your back.”
“Like I’d trust you to do it,” she snapped.
“Who else is there?”
That son of a bitch. He had to go and remind her how alone she was. If he thought emotional dependence would dictate her actions, he didn’t know her at all. She hated that she’d mistaken sexual chemistry for something more. It made her feel stupid, gullible, another mark taken in by a strong chest and broad shoulders. Even looking at him now, she saw his bronze body on top of hers, his ebony head thrown back.
Her fingers trembled on the trigger; she was fiercely tempted to put a bullet in him. Now she liked the bruises around his eyes and his smashed nose. He deserved that and worse, the lying prick. If she could, she’d thank Dwight for roughing him up.
“Mia. I’ve been biding my time until she got back in the country. I just needed to keep moving. She’ll be in Fargo by now . . . I just need to get there. And you stay the hell away from me.”
She needed to get dressed, but she couldn’t figure out how to manage it with a gun in one hand. Pulling a shirt over her head would give him more than the time he needed to take control of the situation. Kyra tried not to show any uncertainty while she considered the problem.
“She’s not in Fargo.”
Kyra froze. “How do you know that?”
“When I called my contact four days ago to tell him I quit, he asked me to pass a message. He said to tell you ‘your friend says hello . . . Mia is such a charming woman.’”
She launched herself then, rage finally overcoming common sense. By some miracle, the hit connected, and the Beretta struck upside his head. “You asshole! They’ve had her for four days? When were you going to tell me? If anything happens to her, you’re a dead man, you understand me?”
Kyra lifted her arm, and only then did she realize he wasn’t trying to protect himself. He’d let her pistol whip him. She lowered the gun slowly, trying to understand what the hell he was doing. Nothing, it seemed. His hands were still on his knees, blood now trickling down his face from where she’d hit him.
“I should have told you sooner,” he said. “So you get that one, free and clear. I deserved it, but don’t raise your hand to me again.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands.”
“Neither are you.”
She lofted the gun. “How do you figure?”
“I could take that from you in less than ten seconds, now that you’re within arm’s reach.” Then he did, disarming her with such lightning speed that she barely had time to dance back a few steps. “See? You may not like me, or want me around, but you need me. Mia’s in the hands of your enemies. Just how do you propose to save her alone?”
She knows I’m right. Reyes watched conflicting emotions flicker over her expressive face. Kyra wanted nothing more to do with him; he realized that. Things as they had been were over, but he couldn’t abandon her. He’d help her rescue her friend and finish things with Serrano. That meant returning to the scene of the crime, Sin City.
“I’ll figure something out,” she muttered.
“You have to take him out, you know. You started this; he has to finish it. He’ll just keep sending people after you, no matter where you run, and there’s no shortage of men looking to make a quick buck.”
Kyra appeared to sift through his words, looking for mis truths or personal agenda. She wouldn’t find any. If he had any sense, he’d walk away now, and try to forget what it had been like between them before she learned the truth. Even now he wanted to touch her, but she’d take his hand off at the wrist.
“All right,” she said finally. “We make one last run together. Vegas. When Mia is safe and Serrano is out of the picture, we go our separate ways. I am hiring you,” she added in a voice made of ice and knives. “This is business. You don’t touch me again.”
Regret, dusted with sorrow, settled at the back of his throat. It felt oddly like tears, and it made his voice raw. “Understood. I’ll do the job for a hundred grand.”
“Let’s be perfectly clear about what that entails.”
“You give me the money. That makes Serrano a dead man walking.”
Her smile said she liked the idea of hiring him away from the man who’d paid him to kill her. “How can I be sure you’ll honor our agreement? You decided you didn’t want to work for him, after taking the job.”
Reyes fisted his hands, gritting his teeth against the urge to punch something. “Foster misrep
resented the truth, knowing I wouldn’t take the job any other way.”
“And you’re the best,” she mocked him. “It had to be you. No other killer for hire would do.”
“I don’t know about that,” he muttered. “I don’t know why Foster wanted me bad enough to lie.”
“Your good looks and charming personality?” Her scorn slid like razors against his skin.
He wanted to defend himself, but she was in no mood to hear about his ethics, such as they were. So he nudged the body with his toe. “I’m taking him out back. We can talk more later.”
“Unlikely,” she muttered.
Without answering, he shrugged into a shirt, found his jacket, and went outside. Reyes found tools in the garage that indicated bodies had been buried in the woods before. He took the shovel in his left hand and then went back for the body. He slung the corpse over his right shoulder. VZ hadn’t been a light guy, and he was tired, injured, so he was puffing by the time he got deep into the trees. If the ground was frozen, he might have to settle for dumping it, though burial would be better.
He generally didn’t dispose of bodies. When people wanted someone killed, they wanted it known, so they could remarry, teach somebody a lesson, or collect insurance, whatever the rationale was for the murder. This time, he wanted people wondering.
Reyes found a soft patch beneath a cluster of pine trees. Digging was mindless, and he almost enjoyed it because the repetitive motion took his mind off other matters. He wasn’t surprised by how much she now hated him, just saddened by it. The loss of her hit him harder than he’d expected. Oh, he’d known it was inevitable; he just hadn’t realized how much he’d mind.
Several hours later, he had a small grave. Without ceremony, he rolled the body into it, and filled in the earth. That took another hour. By the time he finished, he was filthy, hungry, cold, and tired. Reyes gave a satisfied smile as he went back to the house. Physical distress went a fair way to obliterating emotional pain.
Astonishment rippled through him when he saw the Marquis still sitting there. Despite their agreement, he’d half expected to find her gone. Good to know her anger hadn’t overruled her common sense. She needed him and he’d deliver. He didn’t want payment from her, but he knew that was the only way she could put faith in their agreement. Kyra lived in a world where people were motivated by money, so she’d believe in greed where nothing else would convince her.
Inside, he found her in the living room, staring out the window. Kyra didn’t acknowledge him as he came in, didn’t even look his way. Her posture said he was nothing to her, less than nothing. She’d know better than anyone how indifference could wound him deeper than anything else; he’d given her the blades with which to cut him. The silence weighed on him, so he passed through.
Bills lay scattered on the bed where they’d made love so many times. So this was how it would be. An endless ache seared him, nothing like he’d ever felt before. No more could he reach for her in the night, no more could he wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her hair. He didn’t have any rights at all where she was concerned, and that seemed entirely wrong.
The easy course would be to leave the money and walk away. Just go. But no matter how much it hurt him to stay, he’d see this thing through for her. It was the least he could do. In his way, he always honored his commitments. She might not believe it, but he was a man of his word.
She’d tidied up as best she could. Reyes scrubbed the floor. He wanted no signs that VZ had caught up with him here. Monroe needed to think he was free and clear, right up until Reyes put a bullet in his brain. That would have to keep, however, until they completed Kyra’s business. Then he’d be free to settle that personal score.
At last he took a shower, washing off all the dirt and dried blood, and then he dressed. It didn’t take long to gather up his things. Part of him would like to burn this place down because it represented both the best days of his life, and the worst. Instead he walked with measured steps to the front room where she waited.
“Ready?”
“Sure. Let’s go get Mia.” She held out her hand for the keys, which were still in his jacket pocket.
I’m not worthy to drive the Marquis, I get it. Reyes turned them over without protest. “I’ll have to direct you.”
“That’s not a problem. How long will it take us?”
“Two days,” he guessed. “Driving eight to ten hours a day.”
“Could we make it in one?”
He considered. “If we took turns driving and slept along the way.”
“Two days it is,” she said, dismissing his use as anything but a smoking gun. “They won’t hurt her. She’s bait. You should call him and tell him I’m on the way, just so they’re sure I’ve taken the lure.”
“You think that’s a good idea? They’ll know we’re coming.”
“No,” she corrected. “They’ll know I’m coming. If we play this right, they won’t see you until it’s too late.”
Smart. She was so damn smart. No wonder she’d kept one step ahead of him for months. How many nights had he spent, studying her picture? Trying to understand the kind of woman who could live as she did. His imagination hadn’t done her justice.
“All right. I’ll make the call.”
Reyes got out his phone and dialed Foster. To his surprise, he got voice mail. The man must have something major going on, because he’d never failed to pick up before. “I gave the girl your message, and she’s heading your way. Good luck, man, you’re going to need it.”
“Very good,” she said as he disconnected. “Casual. That should take care of Mia, assuming they haven’t done anything to her before now.” Her eyes lanced through him like a laser scalpel.
“I should have told you, but you would have insisted on leaving right then, and we needed to let the trail go cold. You can’t help her if you get yourself arrested. Plus, your leg needed to heal some.”
“I’m not interested in your rationalizations. Get your ass in the car. We have a long way to go—”
“And a short time to get there.” He hummed a few bars of “Eastbound and Down” before he remembered she didn’t want to be reminded of how much she’d shared with him. Lying in his arms, she’d talked about how much she loved watching old Smokey and the Bandit movies with her dad. They hadn’t gotten cable most of the places they stayed, so late-night network movies had been their mainstay during her childhood.
Kyra went pale, and her fists clenched. “Shut it, you understand me? You don’t know me, no matter what you think.”
Reyes got in the Marquis. Since he understood why she was furious, he didn’t argue. But he did know her, all the way down to the bone, and for a little while—the sweetest little while—she had been his.
CHAPTER 24
Whenever Kyra looked at him, she felt sick.
So she kept her eyes on the road, and her hands on the wheel, trying not to think how he’d duped her. Shame burned like acid. At any time, he could’ve killed her. How many nights had she lain in his arms? And how unspeakably sad—she’d wanted him almost from the moment she lay eyes on him. How was that for self-destructive?
She’d loved the hint of danger about him. Of course, she could never have imagined what he did for a living. What kind of person went around killing people? It was sick and insane, and she hated him for making a fool of her.
The scenery along the highway didn’t vary much. First it was green, scattered with trees. Sometimes there were cows and horses standing near barbed-wire fences, watching the cars with dim disinterest. Sometimes the lanes were clogged with trucks, all trying to make a delivery before deadline. Numb, Kyra drove on.
It was a long day. She played the radio and tried to ignore him. He was smart enough to be quiet, not bothering her with rationalizations. Reyes knew she wasn’t interested in hearing it. They stopped once for food, bathroom breaks, and gas, then she stopped once more for some replacement clothing. Then she drove another four hours.
&nb
sp; By the time she stopped for the night, it was late. She chose a cheap motel off the interstate from a billboard with flickering lights that claimed rooms started at $29.95. The place had been painted at some point; maybe it was intended to be terracotta, but sun and wind had faded it to a pale peach with dirty streaks.
The man at the desk had to be a hundred if he was a day, and he was hard of hearing. She shouted her request for a room three times before finally getting through to him. After that, things went efficiently enough. She filled out her card with a flourish, signing the name Rachel Justice out of pure defiance. At this point she wanted to leave a trail back to Vegas. This would end now, one way or another. No more running, no more hiding.
Kyra took the key card, and let Reyes manage his own business. God, how humiliating. All this time, she’d been giving him a cut of their take, trying to show him the ropes, as if he needed it. Paid killers made top dollar; he hadn’t been interested in the crumpled bills they collected at all. Everything he said—everything she felt—had been orchestrated to earn her trust, trick her into turning over the money. If she’d been a little less wary, she’d have a bullet in her head by now.
Kyra straightened her shoulders as she walked out of the dark, musty office. She limped, taking it slow. Her leg was sore, but nothing she couldn’t handle. With Mia’s life on the line, she wouldn’t let it slow her down.
The cracked sidewalk had buckled, so she watched her step in heading for her room. This motel was shaped like a squared U with rooms on two levels. The upper balcony ran along the interior of the structure with the office in the middle. At the center of the U sat a neglected pool; in the guttering fluorescent lights, the water gleamed an oily black and littered with leaves. It didn’t look as though anybody had used it in years.
The room was much as she’d expected, except smaller. There was only a double bed and a dresser, then beyond that, the tiny little bathroom. The beige carpeting was worn and stained, but what could you expect for thirty bucks? Kyra tossed her bag beside the bed and decided it was better she didn’t have an ultraviolet light to find all the semen stains.
