We don’t say much to each other but her hand squeezes mine on and off. I can feel the waves of worry flow in and out of her, and at one point when a pedestrian bumps into her, my arm shoots around her waist, holding her tight. I don’t loosen, I don’t let go.
By the time we get to the other side and back, we’re both tired, her face ruddy from the cold mist, and I’m chilled to the bone. I’m not used to this weather. The steam of the tropics is much more preferable to the cold and damp.
“Where to next?” I ask her as we get in the car. Neither of us took a single picture on the bridge. We were too alive.
Her face seems to crumple before me. “I’m so sorry. I just realized that I should probably go home for dinner.” She pauses. “I’m just exhausted. I think I need to stay home and rest.”
To be honest, I wasn’t expecting her to agree to dinner anyway. It’s not like I even asked, I just demanded, and that doesn’t work out for me all the time.
Still, I ask, “Are you sure?”
She nods. “Yes, but how about tomorrow?” She says this quickly, as if I’ll change my mind. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be anywhere fancy or anything. I could cook you dinner, I make a mean spaghetti Bolognese, but my parents are…well, I mean I live with them so that might be kind of awkward.”
“I would love to meet your parents,” I tell her.
Her chin jerks inward. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Love to meet these interesting artists who raised such a talented daughter. But how about we save that for later this week? Tomorrow, I’ll take you out. Top of the Mark if you wish, or any place you choose.”
“No, that’s fine,” she says. “It would be fun to go somewhere nice. I’d love it.”
“All right. The least I can do is drive you home, then.”
Through all my research I’ve been unable to get the McQueen’s address, but I’m not surprised to find they live just a couple of blocks over from Sins & Needles in a narrow three-story row house that must cost well over a million dollars.
I glance at Violet as we pull up to the curb. How do you think your parents can afford this place? Through tattoos and fancy photographs?
She looks at the house anxiously as she opens the door. “Thanks for everything.”
I should follow her to the door, tell her I’m just looking out for her. I should insist on meeting her parents. I should drop the charade.
But I don’t drop anything. I’m becoming the charade.
I tell her I’ll see her tomorrow.
Then I drive off.
Chapter Seven
Javier
Sinaloa, Mexico
Javier Bernal stands at the edge of his property, where the lush lawn starts to peter out into the thick jungle that continues all the way down to the ocean’s edge. He narrows his eyes at the lumps of rocks that scatter along the grass and feels his heart rate go up a notch.
This was where he was going to put in his beloved koi pond, one of the first things he vowed to do when they took over this land a few years ago. But time, as usual, got away from him. Now there is just a pile of rocks that represent the best of intentions.
He’s surprised at the bitterness welling in his throat. It seems the older he gets, the more his intentions lose their hold. It’s been a nonstop climb back to the top and he’s getting tired. He needs someone with new life to run the show.
Someone like Vicente.
But Vicente hasn’t yet been broken. Javier knows you have to break the boy to create the man. And there’s no one to break him but Javier. Sometimes you have to hurt the ones you love to make them stronger, and while Javier would fight to the death to protect his son, he also knows he’s the only one who can make Vicente the man he needs to be, even if it destroys both of them in the process.
It breaks Javier’s heart.
Having to do this to him.
“Javier?” Luisa calls out softly from behind him. He doesn’t turn around but he relaxes slightly when he feels her thin, soft arms wrap around him from the back. “What are you doing?”
“Dreaming,” he answers. The more in the dark his wife is, the better. She wouldn’t quite agree. Then again, she babies Vicente too much. “Do you remember when we were first together, that old compound? I would find you down by the pond, staring at the fish.”
“I was planning my escape,” she says mildly.
He nods. “Do you think you would have been better off, in the end?”
“Are you serious?” She lets go and comes around in front of him. The dire puzzlement on her face is a tonic to him.
He gives a half-hearted shrug. “If you had escaped, you would never have had to live the life of a wife of a drug lord.”
Her puzzlement turns to annoyance, which makes him chuckle inside. There’s no one more beautiful to Javier than his wife, yet when she gets feisty and riled up, her beauty is increased tenfold. He’s nearly in awe of it, even still.
“Need I remind you that for the last twenty years or so, I’ve been an equal partner in these operations, not just your damn wife,” she says viciously, poking a long-fingered nail into his chest. “I’m not like the rest of those fucking women, sitting around with the other wives and talking gossip and discussing your mistresses. Without me, you never would have risen up.”
Javier raises his brows, wondering briefly if that’s innuendo or not. She does tend to get turned on when she’s on fire. “You’re very right, dear Luisa.” He grabs her finger and raises it to his lips, gently sucking on it.