Page 35 of Vicious Hearts

His eyebrows shoot past his forehead in shock. I have always refused to do business with the Hondurans. Which is a good thing, because there’s no way they can connect the defective arms back to me. And secondly, the fact that I’m willing to have a sit down is a big deal. There’s no way they’d pass that up.

“You’d actually be prepared to do business with them?”

“If it means I’ll get her back unharmed, I’ll shake hands with the devil himself.”

Attila’s phone rings just as we are finishing up, and I watch him quietly as he answers it, his face morphing from calm to a frown and then moves into the territory of fear. I can see fear in his eyes. And I can see the moment that he fixes his eyes on me with a look that is both haunted and apologetic.

“What is it?” I ask him, as he sets his phone down.

Attila throws his head back and sighs, running both hands through his long thick mane of golden-brown hair before he looks back at me. He is hesitant to tell me what the phone call was about.

“They found the van,” he tells me. “In Amatitlan.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I need to get down there.”

“Youneed to get down there?Weneed to get down there.”

I can see Attila is reluctant for me to go with him in the way his demeanor changes when I insist on going with him. He tells me I’m in no shape to make the journey; he’ll go and speak with the officers onsite then come back. I shake my head vehemently and tell him I’ll be making the trip with him, even if I have to drag myself there.

* * *

We drivefor thirty minutes before we get to the location of the van in Amatitlan. The drive felt more like hours as Attila sped through the streets and the seat belt bit into my already aching body. We drive in four cars, two in front of us and one behind, added security measures in case of any further problems we may encounter.

The van is roped off with police tape, and a convoy of police cars has converged on the site, taking in every detail of the scene.

“Amatitlan is a quaint city relatively free of crime,” Attila tells me, noting the look on my face.

There’s an inordinate number of police for a van that’s been set alight. He introduces me to a police officer friend of his, who reveals which division he’s from, thus explaining the reason for so many police. He’s obviously doing Attila a favor, because he’s crossed jurisdictions to be here.

I look over at the van as Attila and the police officer discuss the situation; the van is so badly incinerated; you couldn’t even tell what color it once used to be. Smoke from the fire continues to rise in the still air. There are two forensics officers leaning over the open door of the passenger side, scraping at something. I walk towards the van, my burdensome body no support as I cross the road and near the remains of the vehicle.

“Caleph!” Attila calls after me, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Caleph!”

I continue, pushing myself to get nearer to the van. When I do, I stand ten feet away from the wreck, my eyes cemented on it as though I am in a trance. One of the forensics team steps back to put something in a tube, and it is then that the passenger seat becomes clear to me, and I see a mangled strand of long brown hair falling from the charred remains of the person sitting in the passenger seat.

31

ATTILA

His knees buckle and give out.

“Goddammit!” I curse, running to prop him up before his head hits the ground. The last thing I need now is more injuries on Caleph. I need him lucid and functioning and coherent. That’s why I didn’t want to bring him here with me.

He’s sustained too much physical trauma to be of any use to me right now, and I don’t want him falling apart mentally as well. And now that’s precisely what’s happened.

I’d been surprised when Caleph made it clear how much the woman meant to him. I’d met her before on a yacht a few weeks ago. Yes, she was pretty. Yes, she was captivating. But damn, when did we decide to start having feelings for women or let them become our weakness? As long as I’d known Caleph, I couldn’t ever remember him having a serious relationship or caring about anyone enough to start one. That’s the way it had always been, be it me or him. Flying solo. That’s the way we liked it. So imagine my surprise when I realized he was in love with her. Now she was just one more thing to worry about.

And by the look of his face now as he studied the van and his body went rigid with fear, it was obvious that Caleph was in so deep, he probably wouldn’t be able to recover from her loss. This is precisely what I wanted to avoid. And if it is Ariadne in the van, it means all our plans are shot to hell and we’ll have to launch a revenge campaign instead.

We don’t even know that the body in the van is Ariadne’s. I need Caleph to get himself together, otherwise he’s no use to me. This woman being his weakness could very well be his downfall.

This is a side of humanity I don’t understand. Caleph and I both come from violent backgrounds where one or more of our family members was brutally killed. Going through something like that numbs you. It causes you to switch off your emotions, making you immune to feelings and fears. I switched off my humanity a long time ago, and I never looked back. Obviously, for Caleph, some sector of his human side was still functioning for him to have gone and fallen in love with the reporter.

* * *

As if thestars are conspiring against me, my friend at the bureau suggests it may speed things up if we could identify some of the items in the van. When he spells out what those items are, I tell him he’s gone mad and spit at the sidewalk. How will identifying shreds of fabric from the clothes the victim was wearing and jewelry help Caleph? He will never ever come back from something like that, and I won’t let it happen.

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