28. Amorette #2
While they were occupied, I took a deep breath and approached her. She stayed seated but tipped her head back to see me. Wearing such dark sunglasses, I couldn’t get a read on her.
At least I knew she spoke some English from the day she entered the apartment. She’d seemed nice then, which was partly why I’d beat myself up so much over what I thought I had to do to escape.
In hindsight, I realized how naive I had been. But I was making better choices going forward.
“Blanca,” I said, then took in a breath through my nose. My chest expanded with the movement. “I wanted to apologize.”
“Why?” she snapped.
“Why would I apologize?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yes. No one held a gun to your head. No one forced you to hit me. Lafe is a good man. A kind man. And he showed more kindness to you than you deserved. He should have left you with Maikel in that hellhole.” A string of Spanish curses flew from her lips as she stood up, grabbed her bag, and brushed by me.
When I turned around, Grey was watching me with an indecipherable look while Parker murmured to the dock worker.
“That didn’t go so well,” I muttered. It was what I had expected, but I was still shocked it had gone so poorly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Grey said as he extended a hand to help me off the boat. Although I didn’t require any. This boat was perfectly made where the door was level with the dock. It was so steady; it only rocked a little as I climbed off.
“That’s easy for you to say. I have a conscience,” I whispered more to myself than him.
“That’s a tool people will only use against you. You don’t have to kill it completely, but it would be better if you at least hid your true feelings. And Wicked Little Love, all your shame was in your eyes as you tried to talk to Blanca. Now she has that weapon to use against you.”
“Why would she?” I glanced up at him as he placed his hand at the small of my back while we followed behind Parker.
“Because she can. Because you gave her that advantage.” Now Grey sounded exasperated with me. I couldn’t even blame him. Even I felt thick-headed right now, when most of my life I was ahead of the curve, wondering when everyone else would catch up to me.
It was a novel feeling I loathed.
“You’re saying I need to think the worst of everyone,” I said drolly. “Then I’ll be successful here?”
His lips twitched, but he squashed it before he outright smiled. “That would be a start.”
Just like when Parker took me with him this morning, he’d forgotten about me as soon as he was distracted with whatever work he was doing. I almost asked Grey if he wanted to walk around the pier until Parker was done, but Parker stopped and cast an impatient gaze back at me.
“I thought you wanted to find a way to assist in the business?”
Jolting, I stepped forward and straightened my rumpled clothing as much as I could.
I wouldn’t say I wanted that. But I sure as hell didn’t want to compromise my integrity any more than I had to. “I do.” Without using the law went unsaid.
“Amorette, meet Rod.” Parker motioned me closer, and I closed the gap with a few steps.
Rod was a Hispanic man with rich dark skin like he spent his days lazing on a pool deck.
He wore stark white pants and a shirt to deepen the already stark contrast. His jet-black hair was artfully swept back from his face, giving him a fierce look until he smiled.
The blinding white teeth softened some of his hard edges as he extended a hand.
“Pleasure to meet you, miss. Parker’s told me quite a bit about you,” Rod gushed in a thick accent.
That couldn’t be good. I placed my hand in his, mainly because my manners wouldn’t be denied. Even as I shot Parker a questioning look, I returned the sentiments. “Same, Rod. Nice to meet you.”
He smiled wider and dipped his head. “I reserved a table at Mea Culpa, if that is okay with you?” Rod glanced at Parker.
He nodded, but a furrow appeared between his brows. “Leon?”
“Out of town. Only his mamá is in.”
Parker narrowed his gaze but didn't make any other comments.
“Amorette,” Rod turned back to me as we started moving toward the street. “Parker shared that you are a…” He glanced at Parker for a second as he searched for the right word.
“Researcher,” Parker supplied for him, giving me a discreet wink.
Scents of delicious, cooked steak and seafood carried to us on the breeze, competing against the damp salt air.
What I assumed was the restaurant we were going to, had a glamorous patio looking out over the water with various yachts and speed boats spread throughout the bay and docked at the marina.
“Ah yes, researcher.” Rod smiled with a hefty dose of kindness.
Was this a career criminal? I hadn’t even thought to ask the brothers if they had legitimate businesses I could be a part of instead of the dirtier sides.
We ascended a few stone steps and Rod opened the door for our entrance. The hostess greeted us, but after a look from Rod, she dropped her gaze and stayed at her stand.
Now I saw it. The mask he used when talking to me.
We didn’t say anything else as he led us outside to the best table on the patio. It was right on the railing with a heart-stopping view of the water while holding a decent amount of privacy.
Did the brothers own this restaurant too?
And who was Leon? Or his mother, for that matter.
Grey pulled out the chair closest to the water, and once I was seated, he took the seat next to me. If he felt out of place in gym clothes while we were all in various states of business attire, he didn’t show it.
Shit, I’d never gotten to go to the bathroom to fix myself. Although my quick smoothing had helped, so my outfit didn’t scream that I’d been sexed-up now. The leftover wrinkles could have been from the wind on the trip over.
“Amorette,” Rod said, pulling my focus from the water. “We have a series of jobs coming up, and I could use some assistance with the prep.” He pulled a file out of his bag.
“Let me fill her in.” Parker raised a hand.
He took the folder and slid it across the table, pressing it closed so I couldn’t open it.
“In this folder are a series of paintings and sculptures. We need to prioritize the most valuable items. What I’d like you to do is research the origin, artist, and progression of ownership, to the current location. Can you do that?”
He took his hand away, and I flipped the top flap of the simple manilla folder open. This was huge. I hadn’t asked Parker what branch of the organization he ran, because I hadn’t wanted to know.
This was smuggling, wasn’t it?
Mirth twinkled in the depths of his dark eyes as he nodded to the file's contents. He enjoyed this, giving me crumbs to see if I could follow the trail.
This wasn’t a file so much as a series of photographs with a small scrap of paper clipped to each one. The writing…was in Spanish.
The first picture was a small Egyptian statue of a woman on a throne. Most likely a goddess. The second was a colorful, delicately painted vase. From the style, I assumed it was Chinese but undoubtedly Asian in origin.
The third picture was a portrait of a man from several hundred years ago. I at least recognized the artist’s name on this scrap of paper. Rembrandt.
I froze.
If these were as valuable as I thought they were, they’d be estimated in the millions, and that was on the conservative side. This was more than smuggling.
I glanced up, and Parker’s smirking face filled my vision. “Something wrong, Little Love?” His gaze dared me to cause a scene. To flaunt my morals in front of all three of them.
I wanted to. Fuck, how I wanted to.
But they knew too much about me. About…Grace.
I pressed my shaking hand to the table so they wouldn’t notice the fine tremors running through me. “No. But I’ll need you to translate the notes for me. I’d also like to enroll in a Spanish course.”
The humor vanished from his face as he sat back, canting his head.
Then his expression lost its cruel angles.
“Happy to. There’s one more.” He flipped the page to reveal a painting of two black women.
“Four pieces of art. All should be located within the US, given the last known owners.” Parker leisurely flipped all the pictures back into their original spot, then tapped the top photo.
“This is important, Amorette. This is your test on if you can be trusted or not,” he spoke in a grave voice.
I glanced over at Grey, but he was messing around on his phone, not paying any attention to us.
Parker closed the folder as a young waitress approached our table, and as he ordered wine for the table, he pulled the folder back in his lap.
That was the end of the business discussion.
Throughout the meal, which was fantastic, Rod asked polite questions, never too invasive, as he told random hilarious stories about growing up in Ecuador.
Everything was surface level. No secrets were traded, and no personal questions were asked, but I found myself relaxing after my first glass of wine.
By the time the second was almost gone, I was all smiles as Grey cupped the back of my neck, rubbing his thumb over my pulse.
I could almost forget the circumstances of how I came to be here. I was eating good food, with good company, and getting clear affection from my lover.
Tomorrow, I’d hate myself, but for now, this was a breather I desperately needed. Maybe if I could pretend during moments like this that everything was normal, I’d be able to make it in this new life with new rules.
The sun had started to drop in the sky, setting fire to the water. Parker had just settled the bill as Blanca appeared through the crowd.
How had I forgotten about her? Where had she been?
Grey was next to notice her as he stood up and tossed his cloth napkin on the table. “I believe it’s time to head back. I need to get a few more hours in the gym before I call it a night.”
“I need to go to the restroom before we get on the boat.” I grinned up at Grey.
“I can show you where it is,” Rod said as he started to push away from the table.
“I have it.” Grey waved him away.
“I have to go too,” Blanca announced, still avoiding my stare.
Some of my drunken happiness fled. She pivoted and moved through the tables. With Grey on my heels, I double-timed my steps to keep up. Blanca took us right to the back hallway where the restrooms were. The ladies’ on one side and the men’s on the other.
“I’ll be waiting here,” Grey called as I hurried to follow Blanca. I didn’t want her to lock herself in a stall before I got a chance to say my piece.
“Blanca,” I caught her arm. “I—”
“Get your hands off me!” She yanked away from me. Muttering in Spanish, she left me standing in the middle of the bathroom as she shut herself in one of the stalls.
“I’m sorry.” I hadn’t moved from my spot. It didn’t feel right to pee without getting this off my chest. Closing my eyes, I weaved forward and rested my head against the wooden stall door. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I just needed to escape. Can you understand that? It was never personal.”
She didn’t say anything as the steady stream of her pee echoed from the stall. I waited until she came out. Blanca could yell at me, slap me, I didn’t care, so long as she lessened some of this guilt that had been riding my shoulders.
When she opened the stall door, she stopped short. She was young. Maybe a few years older than me. And I’d made her a victim of sorts. There was a cynical air about her, yet at the same time, she lacked the desperation I’d seen in so many women trying to flee their abusive relationships.
She was treated well by the brothers. And probably by her family.
How lucky for her.
“You didn’t want to be here, yet you hop from brother to brother. You didn’t want to hurt me, even though you caused me more harm than any of those men.” She shook her head like it was pointless trying to talk to me. Skirting around me, she washed her hands and quietly slipped out the door.
Her words turned over in my head.
I was the villain to her. I was the bad guy. She thought so highly of these men and poorly of me. My thoughts spun in circles as my hazy brain tried to make sense of how this could have happened. How I could have let this happen.
She was right. I chose to make her collateral damage. In a way, I had villainized myself, and I hadn’t even realized it. Saving myself didn’t give me the right to hurt her in the process.
Coming out of my useless pity party, I did my own business and washed my hands.
Then a scream came from the hallway. Was that Blanca?
I dropped my wet paper towels on the floor as I sprinted to the door, throwing it open and coming to a sliding stop.
Blanca’s hands covered her face as she slid down the wall, soft cries barely making it past the barrier of her hands.
A short, stocky man dressed in black slacks and a white button-down had Grey pushed to the wall with a hand anchored to his throat and a gun under his chin. So much like the way Andre greeted me.
Grey had his hands up as he stared down the man in front of him.
The man growled at Grey, but I couldn’t fucking understand anything he was saying!
He lowered the gun, pointing it directly at Blanca as he continued to speak to Grey. He was talking about Blanca. He had to have been. She never raised her head, but her muffled cries turned to sobs, and the man removed the safety from the gun.
No. I couldn’t do this. Not again.
He had another gun stuffed in the back of his pants, and when it looked like he was actually going to shoot Blanca, I rushed forward, throwing myself into his back and grabbing the gun at the same time.
His gun went off, firing into the wall.
Without thinking.
Without any thought in my head except not fucking again , I removed the safety, cocked the weapon, raised the gun, and fired.
Blood splattered over me.
I couldn’t tell if it hit Blanca or Grey. I just saw the damning little speckles on the blouse I wore.
“We need to leave, now, mamí.” Grey’s voice echoed around me. He pulled the gun from my grip, tucking it into the band of his shorts, then swept me off my feet. He yelled something at Blanca as he moved deeper into the restaurant. We passed people.
Didn’t we? I wasn’t sure. But soon, we were outside, and he was running toward the boat.
What had I just done?