Chapter 11
ELEVEN
With every mile west, Daniel felt the pull of home tightening around him.
One hundred and seventy miles to go. Maybe two and a half hours. Three at the most, and then he’d see Julia again. The thought gnawed at him, urging him forward, keeping him sharp despite the exhaustion that blurred his vision and made his head pound.
He’d told Sebastián to keep an eye on her while he was gone, but there was only so much a sixteen-year-old could handle.
Beside him, Milo sat hunched over his phone, thumbs tapping, lost in whatever bullshit he was scheming. Neither of them had spoken in miles, and Daniel relished the silence.
But, of course, Milo ruined it.
“You thinking about her, huh?”
Daniel kept his eyes on the road. “Who?”
“That blond chick you’re banging.”
The words hit him like a sucker punch. Without thinking, Daniel slammed on the brakes, sending Milo lurching forward. He barely caught himself against the dashboard before whipping around, eyes wide. “Jesus, man, what the fuck?”
Daniel grabbed him by the back of his T-shirt and yanked him upright. His voice was low, dangerous. “What did you just say?”
Milo huffed, rubbing his neck. “Relax. I saw you, alright? At the mercado, with your brother. And that blond girl.”
Daniel’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.
Milo grinned, flashing those gaudy gold teeth. “At first, I thought she was with your brother. But we both know she ain’t his type, right?”
Daniel resisted the urge to put his fist straight through Milo’s face.
Milo chuckled. “Damn, bro. You got expensive taste. That bitch is like the Patek Philippe of pussy.”
Daniel’s knuckles went white on the wheel. His vision tunneled. And suddenly, everything made sense.
How Terry had found out about Julia.
Milo.
This stupid little pendejo had gone running his mouth. And Terry had taken that one scrap of information and spun it into a full-blown conspiracy.
Daniel turned, his voice ice cold. “So you snitched to Terry.”
Milo’s face twisted in offense. “I ain’t a snitch.” He held up his phone. “I just took a couple pics of you two. Just in case, you know…”
Just in case he ever needed leverage. Just in case he wanted to hold something over Daniel’s head.
Daniel held out a hand. “Give me the phone.”
“In a sec, man—”
“Now.”
Milo hesitated, then sighed like he was being so inconvenienced and passed it over.
Daniel unlocked it and started scrolling. Jesus Christ, the guy took a fuckload of selfies. Hundreds of them. Shirtless, flexing, flashing gang signs, holding twin Glocks across his chest like he was some kind of action hero.
No photos of Julia so far. But knowing Milo, they could be buried deep.
Problem was, if he kept scrolling, he would stumble across a dick pic. No doubt about it. Probably one where the little weirdo had dyed his pubes blue or some shit. Daniel had seen a lot of bad things in his life, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to come back from that.
He selected all the photos and hit delete, then dug into the “recently deleted” folder and wiped those too. That was as good as it got.
He tossed the phone back.
Milo caught it and groaned. “Aw, come on, man! One of those was gonna be my album cover.”
Daniel ignored him. “So Terry doesn’t know about her?”
Milo was still sulking over his lost masterpieces. “No. And I wasn’t gonna tell him. Bros before hoes, right?”
Daniel nearly decked him right then and there. Not just for calling Julia a hoe, but for ever thinking they were bros.
Instead, he smacked the back of Milo’s head, hard enough to make a point. “You ever talk about her again—you even think about her again—and I’ll shove that phone so far down your throat your followers will see what you had for breakfast.”
Daniel yanked the van back onto the road, gravel spraying behind him.
As the engine rumbled beneath him, he exhaled slowly, trying to let the rage drain out.
Relief crept in, replacing it.
Milo was a snake, but he was a stupid one. If he said Terry didn’t know about Julia, then Terry didn’t know.
That didn’t mean she was safe forever.
But it meant she was safe…for now.
* * *
Julia leaned down and knocked on the window of the ’Cuda.
The young man in the driver’s seat looked up and blinked at her. His expression flitted from alarm, to relief, then to something like embarrassment. He took out his earbuds and wound down the window.
She said, “It’s Sebastián, right?”
“Yeah.” He sighed, looking down at the phone in his lap. “Shit. I think I’m meant to be doing this covertly or something.”
“By ‘this’, do you mean stalking me?”
Sebastián’s eyes widened. “No! I mean, not me.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “I mean…not Daniel either.”
Julia raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
“Daniel had to leave town for a couple of days, and he was worried about you, so he asked me to come by and check on you.” He sighed and dropped his head. “Yeah, that kinda sounds like stalking, right?”
She didn’t reply, letting her silence answer the question.
When she’d come home and found the ’Cuda parked in the lane opposite her house, her immediate response had been excitement at the thought of seeing Daniel again.
She’d quickly shelved that feeling and replaced it with one of wariness.
When she’d plucked up enough courage, she’d walked down her drive and crossed the road to find out what he was doing there, only to discover it was the younger Castano sitting in the driver’s seat.
She looked back down at Sebastián. “Is there any reason why your brother is suddenly so worried about me?”
Sebastián’s expression became cagey. “Yeah, you’re going to have to ask him that.”
The sun was setting, and a chilly breeze was raising goosebumps on her arms. She pointed at the passenger side. “Can I?”
“Oh, sure.”
She got in the car. They were both quiet for a spell. Then Sebastián said, “You’re not bothered? By the whole stalking thing?”
“I thought you said it wasn’t stalking.”
He regarded her in silence for a long moment, then said, “How much do you actually know about my brother?”
She kept her gaze straight ahead, out the windshield.
Not much, admittedly. But what she did know felt pretty significant.
She knew he’d taken care of her when she’d been at her most vulnerable.
She knew the way he’d looked at her right after he’d kissed her, as if she were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
And she knew she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss for days.
She turned her head to look at Sebastián. “I’m sensing you’re trying to tell me I should be scared of your brother,” she said. “Well, I’m not.”
Sebastián met her gaze and held it for a long moment. “I’m not saying you should be scared of him. I’m saying…” He shook his head, like he was trying to work out what he really was trying to say. “Daniel has friends.”
She frowned. “Friends?”
“Yeah. The kind of friends that if they ever become enemies…” He gave a smile that was more like a grimace. “Well, your life expectancy goes down a lot. Put it that way.”
It was her turn to shake her head. “I haven’t met any of his friends.”
“Yeah,” he said again, and there was something almost sad in his tone. “You should probably keep it that way.”
* * *
As soon as he got back to his trailer, Daniel went straight to his wardrobe and pulled out a black sports bag. He unzipped it and gave it a shake, gauging the amount of cash inside. The denominations ranged from singles to hundreds. He hadn’t counted it recently, but he knew how much was in there.
Not enough.
He emptied the cash from the brown envelope into the bag.
The ten thousand would boost the tally a lot.
He should thank Terry, really. But the cash came with a warning.
A warning that if anyone found out about this bag of cash and where the rest of it had come from, he’d be praying his end was as quick and painless as Sasha’s had been. Even while he knew it wouldn’t be.
He zipped up the bag and tossed it back into the bottom of his wardrobe. Shut the door and locked it. Then he peeled off his blood-stained t-shirt and jeans, and bundled them up into a black trash bag.
His phone buzzed on the table. It was a text from Seb. His brother was at Martín’s, and he wasn’t alone. Julia was with him. He assured him she was safe, and that Daniel should meet them at the restaurant when he got back to Chicago.
He tossed the phone on the table. Then he went to his tiny bathroom and turned on the shower. He got in and stood with his head under the stream of hot water, with both hands pressed against the shower wall. He closed his eyes. Pictured Julia. Her face. Her body. Her eyes. Her smile.
Her image faded, and Sasha Sokolov’s head abruptly took its place.
The perfectly round bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
The horrific mess at the other end of that hole.
It was chased up by an image of the guy he’d dragged out of his trailer last week, his blood like black paint on the grass.
And other images, too. A nightmarish parade of them.
He stood there under that stream of water for a long time, trying to imagine it was a baptism, washing away his sins. But the hot water ran out long before he felt even close to feeling clean.
* * *
Julia looked up at the menú chalked onto a huge blackboard on the far wall of the restaurant. She turned back to Sebastián and said, “Iguana?”
Sebastián chuckled. After their chat in the car, he’d offered to take her to this little Mexican place on the West Side for a bite to eat. Since she didn’t have any other dinner plans, she’d agreed.
“Sí,” he said. “Y cabrito, y caimán. Baby goat and alligator.” He laughed at her expression of horror. “So, I guess that’s a no for the criadillas then.”
“The what?”
He grinned. “Bull’s testicles.”
There was a small balding man watching them intently from behind the counter. He had black eyes that reminded her of a bird’s: sharp and fierce.
“Who’s that?” she said.