Page 46 of Twin Deception

Up at the highest point, on the rooftop access area, I looked out over the wet beach. Waves crashed at the shore, frenzied and wild from the cold air front that had moved through with the rain and lightning. Down below, no one hung out on the beach.

I saw the spot where I’d taken Isabel down on the sand and fucked her like I’d fantasized about. Hard, relentlessly, without pausing. We’d come right over there, and before we’d had achance to even come down from that high, someone stood here, where I placed my feet, and tried to kill her.

Why? Who?

Competition wasn’t unheard of. It was more common than not. When someone had a hit on their head, contractors could start a bidding war for who’d get the most for that specific kill. I couldn’t understand how that was happening with Isabel. Drago hadn’t even asked me to kill her at first. He’d asked me to kidnap her and relented to my protest, only telling me I could kill her after the fact, as if it hardly mattered whether she lived or died.

Isabel was only supposed to be targeted as a way to lure Louis Flores out of hiding. But was it so important that someone else could be dispatched to get her too?

I ran my hand over my hair, sighing heavily at more questions and fewer answers. Dropping my gaze, I found the still-smoking tip of the cigarette the shooter must have left in their haste. It wouldn’t do me any good. Nothing here would. All I could do was return to Isabel and demand that she open up—not sexually, not yet. I needed information. I couldn’t keep going at this need to protect her without all the facts.

I left the building slower than I had entered it. Out on the sidewalk, the hookers and druggies danced and moved to their music, drinking and sharing a joint.

One approached me, though, a tall woman with a lopsided Santa hat on her head.

“Whatcha lookin’ for this Christmas? Hmm, big boy? Lookin’ for a treat for yourself?” She grinned, showing off surprisingly pearly white teeth. They had to be fake, too clean in this dirty part of town overruled by gangs and violence.

Christmas was a week away, but that hardly mattered. I wasn’t looking for any treats or gifts. I was coming to the slow realization that I’d found the best one I could ever want—Isabel. I just had to keep her with me and alive long enough to enjoy her.

The hooker eyed me up and down as I considered walking away. She didn’t just look at me as a potential customer, though. She looked at me as a source of what she wanted. Money.

“Because you know how Santa’s elves work. We got eyes and ears everywhere.”

Now we’re talking.

I reached for my wallet.

“You a cop?”

For fuck’s sake.I was really losing my edge if people would keep asking me that. I wasn’t a cop, never had been, and would never want to be one. Both sides of the law were corrupt, and my side, this side, paid better.

“No.” I opened my wallet so she could get a peek of the bills I had. “You see anyone come out of that building?” I jerked my head toward it.

“How much you got?”

I held up a substantial bit of money.

“I sure did,” she replied, taking it. “Headed out to Locust Street. I heard them say they were going to Omar’s apartment.”

I had no clue who he was, but it would work. Names worked. I peeled off another bill.

“He had a buddy come pick him up. They argued as they got into a blue truck.”

Nodding, I gave her another bill. “What’d he look like?”

She sauntered closer. “Tall, built like you.” She squeezed my bicep. “Black hair and a little here.” She pinched my chin to suggest a goatee. “And a long line, right here.” She trailed her fingertip from the corner of my eye over my cheek.

“Thanks.” I gave her another bill and took off.

Locust wasn’t far. I only knew of where it was because I’d scoped it out earlier in the hopes that Isabel might show up at the small art gallery there. She hadn’t. But I’d familiarized myself with the area and knew it was a short alley of shops and businesses rather than apartment complexes. Best of all, it wasn’t far away. I ran there, damning this stupid stubbed toe that still ached.

Finding the area easily, I sought out the truck first.

Bingo.

It was parked near a rear entrance to what had to be a pair of small apartments over a bakery. Passing the truck while scoping out the area for anyone watching, I placed my hand on the hood of the old vehicle to see if it was still warm.

It was. It was hot, actually, proving that it had been driven and parked here very recently.

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