Page 93 of The Butterfly Killer

He got to his feet. He took tiny cautious steps to Roman’s side. He placed his hand on top of Roman’s. He jolted, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

“What’s his name?”

Roman’s upper lip curled. “Miguel Cortez.”

Marcus’s breath caught in his throat. He had to force himself to take a steady breath. “He’s Cortez’s brother.”

It wasn’t a question. Marcus didn’t need clarification. It all made sense to him now. Why would the cartel protect a liability? It was because he was family.

“What’s your plan?”

This time Marcus wasn’t asking for permission to know what Roman’s next move was. He was demanding for the information. Roman had shared so much already that it was more for Roman’s benefit to let Marcus in on the rest.

There was a hint of resistance as Roman clenched the straps of the duffle bag. It was his lifeline. It was all he had with him and Marcus prayed for both their sakes there was a weapon stashed in there. He also hoped Roman knew how to use it.

“Miguel doesn’t know who I actually am. He left me to die that night. I don’t know if he knows I survived.” Roman sighed.“He knows I’m the copycat. We’ve been in contact, but I know he’s edging to take me out. Either because of his ego or because the cartel is breathing down his back about the media attention.

“The cabin was the safest place to be until I got word a few days ago to meet in person. I’m going to kill him. You’re my bargaining chip to get close.”

“Why would the cartel want me?” He hadn’t meant much to the police department in the first place. He couldn’t be used to get anything for the cartel.

Roman gave a soft laugh. “No one has ever gotten as close to finding Miguel as you have. But that’s not the reason they want you. There’s a dirty cop in the precinct. They work for Cortez. They need you out of the picture because sooner or later you’re going to find them out.”

Marcus gawked. “A dirty cop…who?”

When Roman didn’t answer fast enough, he grabbed his arm. “Who?”

Roman shook his head. “I don’t know. That’s all the information I have.”

“And how do you know all this?”

Roman slung the duffle bag over his shoulder. He turned to face Marcus.

“Not everyone in the cartel likes Miguel. He’s not just a liability, he’s a threat to anyone close to him. He’s got sick perversion his brother lets him get away with.”

Marcus’s skin crawled. Miguel had to be pretty sick if the criminals around him thought he was bad.

“So, an inside informant.”

Roman nodded. He wrapped his arm around Marcus’s waist and started toward the motel door.

“He’s been feeding me information only recently when Miguel started showing interest in me. He’s facilitating the meeting we’re about to go to.”

“Meeting?”

They were outside now. It was quiet. Dead silent. Not even a buzz of a bug or the blow of the wind. Not a car nor a scuffle of an animal.

Goosebumps rose on Marcus’s arms and legs. He held onto Roman as he was helped to the car.

Roman stopped next to the passenger side. His fingers flexed against Marcus’s hip.

“Miguel will be there. I have it all planned. Don’t worry.”

That was all Marcus could do. Worry. He didn’t voice his anxious thoughts. He got in the car, in the passenger seat this time, and waited for Roman to get in.

It wasn’t a matter of escape anymore. He didn’t need to. He was right where he needed to be to get closer to the Butterfly Killer—Miguel. He didn’t know if he should refer to him as Miguel or the Butterfly Killer. Miguel seemed too personal, like he was seeing him as a human when he was more monster than anything else. But calling him the Butterfly Killer was giving him too much credit. He hated giving serial killers nicknames. It inflated their ego.

Miguel it was. Miguel the fucking deadbeat asshole.

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