Page 11 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name
Daniel said nothing. Just stretched his legs out in front of him, exhaustion sinking deep into his bones. He hadn’t slept last night, and not just because his bed had been occupied. It had been a night from hell in every possible way.
Tequila had been the first to sense the intruder. By the time Daniel got inside, the bastard had his hands all over that girl, trying to pull up her dress while she sobbed. The look on her face—terror-stricken, eyes wide and glassy—was burned into his brain.
The guy was lucky Daniel hadn’t put a bullet in him right then and there. Instead, he’d knocked him out, dragged him outside, and beaten him until his fists were raw and bloody.
When his anger had finally subsided, he’d stood up and stared down at the guy. He’d still been alive. If Daniel had called an ambulance right then, the guy’d probably be alive now. Breathing through a tube, sure. But alive.
But Daniel hadn’t called an ambulance.
He’d called Terry.
La Araña had showed up ten minutes later and walked right up to the guy lying there face down in the grass. He’d pulled out his Ruger with the silencer and put two nine-millimeter holes in the back of his head.
“Any more?” Terry had asked, scanning the yard like he expected an entire battalion lying in wait.
Daniel had looked down at the body. “No.”
They’d wrapped him in an old groundsheet and shoved him into the backseat of Daniel’s Camry. And then Terry had gone off to do what Terry did best—make people disappear.
Daniel had stood there a long time afterwards, staring at the dark, wet smear the body had left behind. He didn’t regret that the man was dead. But he did regret needing to get Terry involved. Help fromThe Spideralways came with long, tangled strings attached.
When he finally headed back to his RV, Tequila nosed at his palm as he passed.
The girl was still where he’d left her, curled on the floor in the recovery position, her blonde hair tangled across her face. He’d washed the blood from his hands, then kneeled beside her and brushed the strands away. She’d shivered, mumbling something incoherent.
He’d pulled her dress back down, then fetched the cleanest hoodie he owned, easing it over her head and sliding her arms into the sleeves. It swallowed her frame, falling longer than her dress had.
Then he’d lifted her onto his bed, pulled a blanket over her, and sat against the wardrobe, watching her sleep as the sun crept over the horizon.
Now, Terry nudged his chin toward the trailer. “She still out?”
Daniel shook his head. “She’s gone.”
Terry blinked. “You let her go?”
Daniel just shrugged.
Terry swiped a hand down his sweaty face, even though the sun had barely risen. “Big mistake, man.”
Daniel chewed the inside of his cheek. “She didn’t see anything, Terry. Like you said—she was out for the count.”
Terry made a face. “Doesn’t mean she won’t go to the cops. Even if she doesn’t remember much, they’ll still investigate.” He replaced his sunglasses. “And you realize what happens if a bunch of cops come sniffing around here, right?” He gestured to the yard. “You got that guy’s blood all over your grass. His DNA’s in your trailer. And hers.”
Daniel clenched his jaw. Said nothing.
“They’ll have you in cuffs on sight, Danny.” Terry’s voice was sharp now. “You know how the cops in this city are. One look at you, and you’re the fucking rapist.”
Daniel forced himself to stay still, but his stomach churned. He looked at the spot where Terry had ended that guy’s life. He’d thrown a bucket of water over it this morning, but the blood had dried into the grass. Even if he dug up the whole lawn—which wouldn’t be suspicious at all—forensics could probably still pull DNA from the soil.
Terry let the silence stretch before playing his trump card.
“If you go down for this, think about Sebastián.” His voice was lower now, more calculated. “Think about what happens to your little brother. He’ll be on a bus back to the border before you can blink.”
Daniel exhaled through his nose. His fists flexed against his thighs.
Terry was right.
Letting the girl go had been a mistake.
