Page 33 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name
Martín watched as the woman left his restaurant. He glanced behind him toward the kitchen door. Then slipped the card into the pocket of his apron.
ELEVEN
With every mile west,Daniel felt the pull of home tightening around him.
One hundred and seventy miles to go. Maybe two and a half hours. Three at the most, and then he’d see Julia again. The thought gnawed at him, urging him forward, keeping him sharp despite the exhaustion that blurred his vision and made his head pound.
He’d told Sebastián to keep an eye on her while he was gone, but there was only so much a sixteen-year-old could handle.
Beside him, Milo sat hunched over his phone, thumbs tapping, lost in whatever bullshit he was scheming. Neither of them had spoken in miles, and Daniel relished the silence.
But, of course, Milo ruined it.
“You thinking about her, huh?”
Daniel kept his eyes on the road. “Who?”
“That blond chick you’re banging.”
The words hit him like a sucker punch. Without thinking, Daniel slammed on the brakes, sending Milo lurching forward. He barely caught himself against the dashboard before whipping around, eyes wide. “Jesus, man, what the fuck?”
Daniel grabbed him by the back of his T-shirt and yanked him upright. His voice was low, dangerous. “What did you just say?”
Milo huffed, rubbing his neck. “Relax. I saw you, alright? At the mercado, with your brother. And that blond girl.”
Daniel’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.
Milo grinned, flashing those gaudy gold teeth. “At first, I thought she was with your brother. But we both know she ain’t his type, right?”
Daniel resisted the urge to put his fist straight through Milo’s face.
Milo chuckled. “Damn, bro. You got expensive taste. That bitch is like the Patek Philippe of pussy.”
Daniel’s knuckles went white on the wheel. His vision tunneled. And suddenly, everything made sense.
How Terry had found out about Julia.
Milo.
This stupid littlependejohad gone running his mouth. And Terry had taken that one scrap of information and spun it into a full-blown conspiracy.
Daniel turned, his voice ice cold. “So you snitched to Terry.”
Milo’s face twisted in offense. “I ain’t a snitch.” He held up his phone. “I just took a couple pics of you two. Just in case, you know…”
Just in case he ever needed leverage. Just in case he wanted to hold something over Daniel’s head.
Daniel held out a hand. “Give me the phone.”
“In a sec, man?—”
“Now.”
Milo hesitated, then sighed like he was being so inconvenienced and passed it over.
Daniel unlocked it and started scrolling. Jesus Christ, the guy took a fuckload of selfies. Hundreds of them. Shirtless, flexing, flashing gang signs, holding twin Glocks across his chest like he was some kind of action hero.
No photos of Julia so far. But knowing Milo, they could be buried deep.
