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  “Got a little business to take care of first. You guys are just here to stand lookout. This is an easy deal. Just handing off some goods to a buyer.”

  “What goods and what buyer? Why aren’t we at our usual location?” Manny snaps, starting to open his door.

  Gustavo leans in, holding the door shut. In the brief flash of the interior light, I see the pink line of the scar across his cheek from our fight a few weeks ago. There’s a wicked glint in his eyes as he bares his teeth. “I said it was need to know. Leo owes me a little trust. Just do your fucking jobs and all will be forgiven.” He shoots one last intense look at me before standing and striding around his car.

  “Something’s not right about any of this,” Manny says. “How much do you want to bet Papá doesn’t know shit about what’s going down tonight?”

  Off in the darkness, another pair of vehicles approaches, one a pickup truck, the other a black SUV. I tense. If Manny’s right, maybe Papá figured out what’s happening and has decided to come lay down the law, but the vehicles don’t look familiar once they’re close enough to identify.

  “It isn’t Papá,” Manny murmurs, reading my mind. He opens his door and gets out, then bends to retrieve his gun from beneath the seat, stowing it in his waistband at his back. Benny and Baz follow suit, securing their own guns.

  Headlights flash from the direction we arrived and I tense, but no one else seems alarmed by the approach of yet another vehicle. The boys and I watch as a black van descends into the river, cuts its lights, and comes to a stop a few yards away from us. The driver remains behind the wheel, waiting in shadow.

  The whole event has betrayal written all over it, but Gustavo’s holding one over on me so I’m going along with it. I’d just as soon not get shot by the bastard, or let him hurt Manny or either of the Quiñones brothers. If it’s a simple handoff, then nobody else needs to know, and I’ll have the bastard off my back by the time we’re done. Manny and I can regroup afterward to decide how to tell Papá Flores.

  I climb out and retrieve my gun, comforted by the weight of it in my palm as I round the car to stand by Manny’s side a few feet from the front of the car Gustavo arrived in. My gaze flits between the van, the unfamiliar caravan still approaching, and Gustavo’s car. There’s a shadow of another person sitting in the back seat of his car, but I can’t make out who it is in the darkness or why they’re waiting and haven’t gotten out to back Gustavo up.

  The new vehicles come to a stop several yards away and a clean-cut, middle-aged Latino man in a suit every bit as sharply tailored as Gustavo’s gets out, followed by half a dozen thugs. There’s something familiar about him, but it’s tricky to make out details in the darkness. When he comes closer, Manny curses.

  “Son of a bitch,” he mutters. “Eyes open, hermanos.”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Amador.”

  Benny and Baz both emit soft expletives and pull their guns free of their waistbands.

  The name itself sends a sharp chill down my spine. I fix my eyes on the man coming toward Gustavo. He makes a small motion with two fingers of his gloved hand, and two men split off toward the van. When he gets closer to us, Gustavo steps in to greet him with an outstretched hand.

  Then it all clicks. The man’s face, the name, the sinking sense of dread. What the ever-loving fuck is Gustavo doing, making a deal with Papá Flores’ worst enemy?

  Amador ignores him, tilts his chin to the car, and says something that sounds like, “Ella esta aqui?”

  Is she here? Is who here?

  I don’t know if I want to stick around to find out, and when I catch Manny’s eye, he nods. The twins are waiting to follow our lead, so when Manny gestures for them to get back in the car, we all start to move.

  But I stop cold when the rear door of Gustavo’s car opens, and my heart stutters as Celeste Flores steps out.

  12

  Celeste

  This meeting would destroy my father if he knew it was happening. I spent a week searching for answers, including confronting Papá with the scans of the checks. He brushed it off as “old business” and refused to discuss it further. He simply shut down when faced with the image of my mother’s signature. I finally reached the conclusion that only one man could answer the questions I have—the man who received those checks.

  I tighten my belted jacket against the late-night autumn chill and step toward the man standing at the side of a large black SUV. He’s my father’s age and strikingly handsome. He’s clean-shaven, his thick, black hair combed back in a sleek wave, and he wears a dark gray wool overcoat and black leather gloves. Two armed men flank him, and at the smallest gesture from him, they retreat into the shadows. There are several cars surrounding us, one a black van where a transaction of some sort appears to be occurring.

  Amador steps forward, removing his gloves and holding out a hand to greet me.

  “Celeste. Do you remember me?”

  “Should I? I know you by reputation, but that’s all.” I stare up into his eyes, heart beating hard and hoping that the darkness obscures the uncertainty I’m sure must be visible on my face. I grit my teeth and shove the feeling back down. I can’t let this man see fear if I’m going to get what I need from him.

  “What you have heard about me is largely exaggeration. You are perfectly safe, cariña. If you don’t mind, will you join me in the car to speak privately while my men handle business? I came a long way to see you, so I would rather not waste what little time we have, and we are not in the safest location right now.”

  He opens the door to the SUV and gestures to the interior. Someone calls out my name from the darkness as I slide onto the seat and make room for Amador to climb in after me. Just beyond his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Leo Reyes staring in shock before the door closes.

  This can’t look good to him, but there’s nothing to do about it now. Gustavo said it would only be a couple weeks before he came to collect on his promise to keep my secret. I didn’t bother sharing with Gustavo that, since his threat of exposure, I’ve discovered I have another more compelling reason to follow through with this meeting. Amador has been Papá’s enemy for years, but that wasn’t always the case. They used to be partners. Maybe even friends. And my mother wrote several checks to this man just before she died.

  “Why did you want to see me?” I ask, deciding to get that question out of the way before I barrage him with my own.

  “Your papá and I have a long history. Believe it or not, you and I have met before, when you were only a little girl. Your mother would bring you to Cancún with her on occasion. I had the pleasure of an introduction during one of those visits. I imagine you might have questions about Lola.”

  I clench my jaw at his evasive answer, but it’s a sufficient segue that I decide not to waste more time.

  “Were you there when she died?” I ask.

  “No, cariña, and I regret it to this day. What happened to your mother could have been avoided.”

  What happened was something I doubted the moment I looked at my mother’s signature on those checks. The stories my father spun were tragic and laid the blame fully at Amador’s feet, which is the reason this meeting feels so reckless. If this is the man who killed my mother, what will he do to me?

  I don’t feel any sense of danger from him, however. He looks concerned, maybe even regretful.

  “Did you order her death?” I ask.

  His brow creases and his jaw spasms. “Is that what he told you? All these years, you believed I was somehow responsible? I heard it was suicide, but you and I both know how common it is in our world for suicide to hide the truth.”

  “Are you saying you don’t know how she really died?”

  He takes a deep breath and stares down at his hands where they rest on his knees. “No, Celeste. I was nowhere near her when it happened, and Arturo was not exactly forthcoming with the details. I take it your presence here means he’s just as tightly locked up as always.”

 
I let out a huff of frustration that earns me a low chuckle from him.

  “Is there anything you can tell me?” I’m almost desperate for something to make this meeting worthwhile now. It’s enough that it ensures Gustavo won’t talk to my father about my meeting with Maddox, but if Papá ever finds out I was here, I want it to have been worth it.

  He turns toward me, his gaze intent on my face as if memorizing it. “I remember how beautiful she was. You look like her in almost every way.” He reaches up and brushes a knuckle over my cheek, then raises his hand to touch the curl of a cowlick at my hairline that I’ve been cursed with my entire life. My heart pounds from the gesture, which reminds me acutely of how my father sometimes behaves when he’s being particularly sentimental. “Do you truly know your father, cariña? He may not be who he seems.”

  Voices rise outside, and I tense, but I’m not finished with this conversation yet. He scowls past my shoulder and fishes into his pocket for his phone.

  I open my mouth to ask another question when a shot rings out from outside the SUV.

  Amador drops his phone onto the seat and lunges toward me, yanking me down to the floorboards. My adrenaline spikes as more shots echo through the night, followed by the squeal of tires on concrete.

  Amador pulls a gun from beneath his coat and peeks through the seats out the front window. Another gunshot is followed by the sound of breaking glass.

  With a swipe of his hand, Amador kills the interior light as yet another shot pings off our windshield without breaking it.

  “Stay down,” he commands. He kneels above me, one knee on the seat and the other on the floor by my legs. Picking up his phone again, he taps the screen and puts it to his ear. “Gustavo, what the fuck is going on out there?” he demands. Then, “Where are the guns? Make sure Arturo’s men don’t get their fucking hands on them. What the fuck do you mean they’re gone?”

  “What is it?” Arturo’s men? Guns? What the hell was this deal I walked into?

  He curses and looks down at me, his face a mask of cold rage. “Forgive me. I should not have agreed to meet you at the same time as this deal Gustavo brought to me, but he insisted it was my only chance to see you. If we were in Mexico, I would have more control over the chaos.”

  I’m not sure how to process that information. Why was he that interested in meeting me to begin with?

  “Who is out there shooting at us?” I ask.

  “They’re shooting at each other, not at us. Reckless fools. Your father’s men are highly protective of you, aren’t they?” He glances down at me with an assessing look.

  “They’re not just his men. They’re my friends.” My voice is shaky and laced with panic. I’m still reeling from the authority with which he just spoke to Gustavo, as if Gustavo answers to him.

  “Stay down. I’ll get us out of here to a place where we can talk safely. My men can track down the idiot who disappeared with the guns.” He squeezes between the seats and maneuvers into the driver’s seat, then starts the engine.

  From the front of the SUV, Leo shouts my name at full volume. “Celeste! Fucking answer me, tell me you’re okay!”

  Just as the SUV starts moving, I grab the door handle. I’ll be damned if I let this man kidnap me, gunfight or no gunfight. I open the door as he picks up speed and brace myself to bail out.

  “Celeste! No!” he yells and reaches back for me just as I make a leap for the pavement. His fingers catch my jacket and tangle in my shirt. The collar rips, but he can’t hold on. I hit the concrete hard, pain jolting through my side, and keep rolling with my arms tucked in close, then come to a stop as Amador hits the brakes.

  Footsteps race toward me, and Leo is at my side with Manny close behind. Leo pulls me up and into his arms while Manny spins, putting himself between us and Amador, who steps out of the SUV, gun in hand.

  “Celeste, are you all right?” Leo holds me close, and I nod into his shoulder. I’m still confused by what the hell just happened, but his embrace is more than welcome comfort.

  “You’re not fucking getting away with this, Gustavo!” Manny yells, raising his gun and aiming at the traitor who is running toward Amador’s SUV.

  Gustavo stops, and his muzzle flashes, leaving afterimages burned into my retinas. Leo shoves me behind him, and Manny leaps in front of us. Both of them raise their guns. Manny fires first, his shot pinging off the side of the SUV just past Gustavo’s shoulder. Gustavo dives to dodge the shot, firing again as he goes down. Manny jerks, his torso twisting in the dark before he topples to the ground.

  Leo jolts back against me and drops his gun, then falls to his knees at Manny’s side, gasping. I bend down, clinging to him. My eyes widen at his brother lying on the ground, a glistening patch of wetness in the center of his chest shining in the red glow of Amador’s taillights. Amador lets out a roar of rage and spins around, aiming his gun at Gustavo.

  “You stupid son of a bitch! You could have killed her!” One pull of the trigger and Gustavo yelps and curls into himself, clutching his abdomen. “Get him the fuck in the car and get out of here!” Amador yells. His two thugs leap into motion and haul Gustavo into the other car.

  “What about the guns?” one of the men asks. “He left with them and the money before we could unload.”

  “We’ll find the bastard soon enough and make him pay for stealing from me,” Amador says. “Leave before the sharks start smelling blood.”

  The men climb into the car and rev the engine, then speed off into the darkness. Amador stands there for another second.

  “Are you hurt, Celeste?” he asks. His expression is cold and impassive in the shadows.

  Beside me, Leo shakes his brother, but Manny doesn’t move. When he reaches for Manny’s gun, Amador lifts his and aims it at Leo’s head.

  “Not a brilliant plan, pendejo. You’ll be dead before you get a chance to pull the trigger. Get his body out of here, and get some help for yourself before you bleed out. I’ll take care of the mess left behind. When you see your father again, Celeste, tell him I plan to take back what’s mine, what was always mine. If he doesn’t want me to destroy the three things he loves most, he’ll get the fuck out of my way.”

  With that, he turns and gets into his SUV, leaving us huddled in the darkness.

  It takes me a second to take stock of what just happened, and what we’re left with. Benny and Baz rush up then and crouch at Manny’s side.

  “Jesus! Is he dead?”

  Leo runs his hand over Manny’s shaved head and nods, a choked sound bursting from his throat. His hand is dripping with blood, and Benny curses.

  “Fuck, dude, were you hit?”

  Then what Amador said registers. Get some help for yourself before you bleed out. He meant Leo.

  “Get up,” I say, standing and grabbing Leo’s arm. He doesn’t budge. “Leo, now. Benny, you and Baz get Manny into his car. Then follow me.”

  I bend down and loop Leo’s good arm over my shoulder, wrap an arm around his waist, and haul him up as Benny and Baz grab Manny’s arms and legs.

  Leo stands in a daze that is probably as much from blood loss as it is seeing his brother gunned down in front of him. Fucking Gustavo.

  “What the hell happened?” I ask, bracing myself under Leo’s weight as he leans against me.

  “You were with Amador. I didn’t know . . .” Leo begins, then another strange choking sound scrapes out of him as his gaze follows Benny and Baz loading Manny into the back seat of Manny’s SUV. “Thought you were in danger. He said you were the goods, that the guns we were here to unload were just a bonus. I couldn’t let that bastard take you without a fight, Celeste.”

  I get the door to Gustavo’s Mercedes open and Leo climbs in, then I lean in after him and push his jacket open and peel open his shirt. The wound is ragged and raw from the bullet piercing his shoulder, and there is no exit wound. Blood still flows, and his shirt is soaked through. I pop open the glove box and find a stack of paper napkins that I wad up and press against the wo
und.

  “Hold this. I’m taking you to get help.” I push him back into the seat and fasten his seat belt for him, urging him to hold his hand over the napkins to keep pressure on the wound. What I don’t do is think about how close I came to taking that bullet too, as close as I was to Leo at the time. It must have torn straight through Manny before hitting Leo.

  My hand shakes when I turn the key Gustavo left in the ignition, only vaguely grateful he didn’t take it with him. The bastard probably thought he’d need to make a quick getaway.

  I put the car into gear and drive, aiming blindly at first, then swerving hard when I spy the narrow access ramp that leads up and out of the riverbed. Behind me, the twins finally turn on their headlights, which gives me an odd sense of comfort. They’re alive, but I don’t want to think about the tragic news they carry with them. The body of the man my best friend has loved for years.

  “Fuck you, Gustavo.” The words sound like they’re coming from another person, as thick and hoarse as my voice is. I can’t afford to be emotional now. Not when Leo’s hanging on by a thread next to me.

  Where am I supposed to take him? Not a hospital. That’s asking for trouble. My father drilled into me what to do in emergencies like this, but none of the details are coming to me now. We have an on-call doctor, but I can’t remember his address, and it isn’t like I had the presence of mind to sync my phone with Gustavo’s car and plug the address into the GPS. There’s no time for that!

  I stop at a traffic light just before the 110 Freeway on-ramp and force myself to map out a route to somewhere. Home is too far, but I don’t know anywhere close.

  Then I have a flash of memory of a caduceus-shaped patch on a dun-colored backpack that belongs to a certain tattoo artist. Before I can second-guess myself, I hit the gas and gun the engine onto the freeway.

  Speeding is just asking for trouble from the highway patrol, especially with the twins behind me carrying Manny’s corpse. I keep the speedometer just under the limit. Thankfully, at this time of night, traffic is light.