Page 25 of Ten

“Houston. San Antonio. Del Rio. Laredo. Corpus Christi. Houston.” He listed off the cities Adrian, Tony and Kiki visited while transporting guns and drugs for the cartel and Russian mafia. “And there are bodies all along the route. Most of them young boys or transgirls. Runaways. Prostitutes. Kids that no one cared about and wouldn’t be missed.”

“So, you think that the three women in San Antonio weren’t Kiki’s only victims.”

“I know they aren’t, and I know there are more across the border.”

My knees went weak, and I staggered to the chair and flopped down onto it. I felt dirty and grimy and wanted to puke. “And you think Kiki, Adrian, and Tony were in it together? Why didn’t the police tie them to the crimes?”

“They tried. I have contacts on the inside who told me about their attempts. There was a burn pit behind the house where Adrian and Tony took their victims. They were able to match most of the bones to missing boys from the area. As to the others? The women Kiki probably killed?” Kostya shrugged. “Like I said—no one gives a shit about those kinds of kids. They're disposable nobodies. The ones that were recovered were badly decomposed or there was no DNA. They weren’t going to waste time on bad cases. Think about how many rape kits go untested just here in Harris County, Nisha. The police are looking for reasons not to get involved.”

“It doesn’t make it right. Those families deserve to know what happened to their loved ones.”

“They do.”

“Where did it start?” I had always wondered when and where Kiki’s madness began.

He nodded. “I’m fairly certain they started in Acuña. They would cross the border at Del Rio and visit the whorehouses there after making their cash drops. I fielded a complaint once from a cartel-protected madam down there. Those three were getting rough with her girls, usually at the same time.”

I grimaced at the mental image of Kiki and his partners triple-teaming a prostitute. What was wrong with them? Why had they been so vile? Why did they have to spread pain wherever they went?

Why hadn’t I seen what they were? Why hadn’t I realized the three of them were such disgusting animals?

“There was a dead hooker—late twenties, not easy to clock, hadn’t had bottom surgery—and she was last seen with them. She was found a few weeks later, wrapped in garbage bags and buried in a shallow grave.” Kostya grimaced. “I don’t think they meant to kill her. I think they probably got into the room with her and realized things were not what they expected. They got mad, violent. They got a taste for killing, for power and pain, and they couldn’t stop.”

“And all that time I was dating him and living with him and sleeping with him.” I shuddered with revulsion. “I told my therapist how he used to come back from his trips relaxed. He was so much nicer to me. I thought it was because we were toxic together, and he was relieved not to be around me for a few days. I never thought...”

“That he was getting a fix? That he was scratching an itch that wouldn’t go away?”

“Something like that.” I thought of Kiki, somewhere in Sam Houston National Forest, hiding in the trees or an abandoned campsite. “I always wondered if there were more victims. After I found...” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. “The cuts were so clean. Like something you would see a butcher or hunter do, you know? And he wasn’t any of those things. He was, frankly, useless at most things, but those cuts?” I shook my head. “I had the feeling he had practiced.”

“I suspect you’re right.”

“I wonder if he still hates himself as much as he used to,” I remarked while tracing the wood grain of the tabletop. “I think that’s why he did all those horrible things to me and to those women. I think he couldn’t bear to admit he wasn’t straight as an arrow. His culture, his upbringing, the streets, his gang—they wouldn’t accept or allow him to be whatever he was. I think it festered inside him, turned him rotten and nasty, and he hurt people to make himself feel better.”

“Men like that don’t change,” Kostya warned. “He’s been sitting on death row for years now, waiting for the needle to go in his arm. If anything, he’s meaner and more hateful. Everyone knows what he did. Everyone knows his shameful secrets. That humiliation twists a man. Whatever Kiki is now—it's dangerous.”

“Do you think he’ll come to Houston to kill me?” I had to know. I could tell Kostya had his fingertips on the heartbeat of the underworld, and it was clear he understood the darkness inside men.

“Yes.” Kostya shifted in his seat and retrieved his vibrating cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans. “Among other things.”

Among other things? He left me wondering what the hell that meant as he went to answer his phone call in another room. I didn’t bother trying to listen. He was speaking in rapid-fire Russian. Most of me didn’t even want to know what he was saying. It was probably something that would get me in trouble.

My phone rang, and I warily eyed it. Haunted by the memory of Kiki’s voice in my ear, I didn’t want to answer it. Kostya returned to the kitchen and found me staring at the still-ringing phone. He seemed to understand my hesitation and picked it up. He read the screen and thrust it at me. “It’s Holly.”

“Oh.” I took the phone, but it went to voicemail before I could answer. I started to call her back, but she beat me to it. I answered on the first ring by tapping the speaker phone option. “Holly?”

“Oh, my gosh! Nisha! Are you okay? Mom and I just got back from our hike and the bonfire, and I had, like, fifty messages and phone calls. Are you at home? I’m going to call Kostya as soon as we get off the phone. He’ll keep an eye on you.”

When she finally stopped long enough to drag in a breath, I said, “Holly, he’s here with me now.”

“Oh. Is he?” She seemed surprised and then exhaled with relief. “Thank God! Listen, I know you two aren’t very close, and I know he can be a bit scary. Underneath the intimidating outer shell, he’s a really good man.”

“So, he’s like an onion?” I asked, catching Kostya’s eye. “Shrek-like, you might say?”

Holly laughed. “Yes, but I don’t think he’ll appreciate the comparison.”

“He doesn’t,” Kostya grumbled.

Holly gasped. “We’re on speaker? Come on, Nisha! You should have warned me!”

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