Page 35 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name
“I thought you said it wasn’t stalking.”
He regarded her in silence for a long moment, then said, “How much do you actually know about my brother?”
She kept her gaze straight ahead, out the windshield. Not much, admittedly. But what she did know felt pretty significant. She knew he’d taken care of her when she’d been at her most vulnerable. She knew the way he’d looked at her right after he’d kissed her, as if she were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And she knew she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss for days.
She turned her head to look at Sebastián. “I’m sensing you’re trying to tell me I should be scared of your brother,” she said. “Well, I’m not.”
Sebastián met her gaze and held it for a long moment. “I’m not saying you should be scared of him. I’m saying…” He shook his head, like he was trying to work out what he really was trying to say. “Daniel has friends.”
She frowned. “Friends?”
“Yeah. The kind of friends that if they ever become enemies…” He gave a smile that was more like a grimace. “Well, your life expectancy goes down a lot. Put it that way.”
It was her turn to shake her head. “I haven’t met any of his friends.”
“Yeah,” he said again, and there was something almost sad in his tone. “You should probably keep it that way.”
* * *
As soon as he got back to his trailer, Daniel went straight to his wardrobe and pulled out a black sports bag. He unzipped it and gave it a shake, gauging the amount of cash inside. The denominations ranged from singles to hundreds. He hadn’t counted it recently, but he knew how much was in there.
Not enough.
He emptied the cash from the brown envelope into the bag. The ten thousand would boost the tally a lot. He should thank Terry, really. But the cash came with a warning. A warning that if anyone found out about this bag of cash and where the rest of it had come from, he’d be praying his end was as quick and painless as Sasha’s had been. Even while he knew it wouldn’t be.
He zipped up the bag and tossed it back into the bottom of his wardrobe. Shut the door and locked it. Then he peeled off his blood-stained t-shirt and jeans, and bundled them up into a black trash bag.
His phone buzzed on the table. It was a text from Seb. His brother was at Martín’s, and he wasn’t alone. Julia was with him. He assured him she was safe, and that Daniel should meet them at the restaurant when he got back to Chicago.
He tossed the phone on the table. Then he went to his tiny bathroom and turned on the shower. He got in and stood with his head under the stream of hot water, with both hands pressed against the shower wall. He closed his eyes. Pictured Julia. Her face. Her body. Her eyes. Her smile.
Her image faded, and Sasha Sokolov’s head abruptly took its place. The perfectly round bullet hole in the center of his forehead. The horrific mess at the other end of that hole. It was chased up by an image of the guy he’d dragged out of his trailer last week, his blood like black paint on the grass. And other images, too. A nightmarish parade of them.
He stood there under that stream of water for a long time, trying to imagine it was a baptism, washing away his sins. But the hot water ran out long before he felt even close to feeling clean.
* * *
Julia looked up at the menú chalked onto a huge blackboard on the far wall of the restaurant. She turned back to Sebastián and said, “Iguana?”
Sebastián chuckled. After their chat in the car, he’d offered to take her to this little Mexican place on the West Side for a bite to eat. Since she didn’t have any other dinner plans, she’d agreed.
“Sí,” he said. “Y cabrito, y caimán. Baby goat and alligator.” He laughed at her expression of horror. “So, I guess that’s a no for thecriadillasthen.”
“The what?”
He grinned. “Bull’s testicles.”
There was a small balding man watching them intently from behind the counter. He had black eyes that reminded her of a bird’s: sharp and fierce.
“Who’s that?” she said.
“The boss man, Martín.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You work here?”
Sebastián pointed at the ceiling. “Live here, too.” He tugged her over to introduce her. “Martín,esJulia.”
Martín’s eyes traveled from Sebastián to Julia and back again, a look of comical confusion on his face. “¿Ella es tu novia?”
