Page 30 of For the Love of Animals

Then he heard it.

Or rather, her.

A soft gasp in his ear, followed by a quiet whimper. Carmen. What the hell was she doing? She didn’t sound distressed, more… No way. Was she even awake? The breathy little moans continued, and Nate’s dick turned to rock, but he didn’t dare take care of himself, not with Verónica tossing and turning so close by. No, he was reduced to listening, an aural voyeur if you like, until Carmen let out a long exhale followed by three whispered words. I hate you.

Fuck. Who did she hate? After what he imagined she’d been doing, it had to be a man, didn’t it?

What if she’d been talking about him?

Morning came with Verónica still sleeping soundly. Nate had tried to grab a couple of hours’ shut-eye, but the soundtrack of Carmen getting herself off played over and over in his head, and by the time the sun rose, he’d been awake for the entire night. Coffee. He needed coffee. While he was in the kitchen, he dug out a jug of water and headache pills for Sleeping Beauty upstairs, because she’d surely need them when she finally woke up.

Which happened at eight thirty when Carmen rang the bell downstairs, right on time.

“Who is it?” Verónica groaned.

“I’ll go and find out. Just sleep, sweetheart.”

“What happened last night?”

“The tequila hit you a little hard.”

She looked at her arms and realised she was still in her sparkly dress, jewellery and all.

“Did we…?”

Nate forced a smile. “You blew my mind, baby. Don’t you remember what happened in the bathroom at the bar?” A few locks of hair flopped across her face as she tried to sit up, and he brushed them to the side. “Are you okay? You look sick.”

With those words, she clutched at her stomach. “I think I’m gonna…”

She staggered for the bathroom, leaving Nate to head downstairs. So far, so good.

Carmen didn’t look as if she’d gotten much rest either. Her shoulders slumped forwards, and she yawned as Nate opened the shop door.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Like a baby.” Why did people always say that? Didn’t babies wake up crying every half hour? “How about you? Your Casanova act worked on Verónica?”

“I doubt she’ll be leaving the bedroom today.”

“Don’t you feel guilty for playing with her emotions like that?”

For buying her expensive drinks, then letting her think she’d got what she wanted? Not really.

“It’s part of the job. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Just give me the damn costume.”

Nate desperately wanted to dig deeper, to find out who she’d been talking about last night, but he didn’t dare, not when she needed all her faculties to deal with her visit to Lozano. So he shut up and went to Verónica’s workroom, where he’d watched her pack Lozano’s skeleton-embellished suit, black on white, into a garment cover yesterday. His shoes had gone into a separate bag, the mask into a cardboard box. She’d gathered the whole lot into a wheeled case together with a sewing kit and a fragrance sachet, and Nate made one final check to ensure the gloves were in there. Yes, there they were, clipped to the hanger.

“You need to spray the first component of the poison into the gloves just before you get to Lozano’s place,” Nate reminded Carmen as he handed her the case and Verónica’s car keys.

“We’ve been through this twenty times. Shouldn’t you run back to your love nest now?”

Carmen had dressed for the occasion in a black shift dress and heels, hair fastened back in a sleek chignon. The sugar skull broach was pinned above her left breast, a touch of the macabre on an otherwise unmemorable outfit.

He ignored her comment and tapped his ear. “Remember I’m listening.”

“How could I forget?”

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