Текст книги "Haunted"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER 23

“MY FATHER IS THE REASON MY MOTHER AND I are living like animals in a cage.” Gabriella turns away from me, looks out through the ruined doorway. “He is the reason my brother killed himself. Antonio could never be what my father pushed him to be. That last outrage was the breaking point. My father wanted him to fight back against the bullies tormenting him. When he wouldn’t, my father made it clear he thought Antonio a disgrace, a weakling. And then he took matters into his own hands.”

I’m trying to reconcile the story she is telling with the one her father told us. According to Ramon, Antonio never told anyone what happened to him. “Did your brother talk to you about what had been done to him? It sounds like you knew what happened to Antonio before you read his note?”

“What note?”

I stop, take a mental step back. Perhaps Gabriella didn’t know about the note. Ramon may have wanted to protect his daughter from the truth about the details of Antonio’s rape. I certainly have no intention of being the one to break it to her.

“I may have misunderstood. It’s not important anyway. What is important is that we’re going to make sure you and your mother are safe.”

Gabriella shakes her head and hands me the laptop. “Good luck with that,” she says, standing up. “My father is a hard-ass narco. If he can’t protect us, what chance do you think you have?”

She starts for the stairway, then stops, looking back at me. “I’m going to get something to eat. My mother loves to cook. At home, we have someone who cooks for us. I think she actually likes being here because she feels like she’s taking care of us again. Oh well. At least if we die, she’ll die happy.” She’s winding the cord for the earbuds around her iPod and when she’s done, she stuffs the thing into her jeans. “Don’t mention the iPod, okay? My father is paranoid. He thinks any electronic device can be bugged.”

I nod that her secret is safe. She takes a step toward the stairway.

“Gabriella?”

She stops again and turns around.

“You seemed really happy to see your father an hour ago. What’s changed?”

“I thought he came back to take us home. He hasn’t. Another promise broken.”

I raise my eyebrows and shake my head.

Her footsteps echo on the steps and then I hear the soft swish as the door opens into the living area. I’ve pushed the lever that returns the table to its position in the middle of the cabin and perch myself on the edge.

Gabriella’s cynicism lingers in my head. I’ve often wondered how the members of a gangster’s family square their lifestyle with the means by which it’s obtained. I have no idea how Ramon’s family lived before but if this hideaway is any indication, they must have had it pretty good. Gabriella is obviously well educated. Her teeth and skin flawless. Before they went into hiding, did she ever give a second thought to the bloodshed going on around her? Or was she immune because of who she was—or more precisely, because of who her father was?

That didn’t save her brother, though, did it? Even a hard-ass narco answers to somebody.

A click and a whirring sound emanate from beneath the table as the mechanism hums again to life. I jump away just as the table tilts inward, exposing the stairway.

Max trudges into view. He’s holding a plate brimming with tortillas, beans, meat and vegetables. More importantly, he’s carrying two bottles of Dos Equis. We set the table upright again and take seats slouching against the wall facing the door. I balance the laptop on my knees while Max balances his plate on his.

Max hands me one of the beers. “Brought you some food. Maria insisted. But I guess you can’t eat it, can you? Guess I’ll have to take care of it. Wouldn’t want Maria to think you didn’t like her cooking any more than you liked her taste in clothes.”

I punch his arm. “Nice going in there. They think I’m gay. In a good Catholic country like Mexico, I’m sure they feel real comfortable around me now.”

“More comfortable than they’d be if they knew what you really are?” He’s shoveling meat and beans into a tortilla.

“Didn’t you eat downstairs?” I ask. The smell makes my mouth water.

He takes a huge bite. My eyes trail the path from plate to mouth like a dog panting for table scraps.

“Yep. But damn, this is good. Maria is one hell of a cook.”

Great. I let him eat, finding a little consolation in my beer. After a moment, I ask, “What are they talking about?”

“Downstairs? Nothing important. Family stuff.”

“So what happens now? When do we go after Santiago?”

“Ramon told Culebra we’d talk tonight, after Maria and Gabriella go to bed.”

“Gabriella blames her father for Antonio’s death. She’s pretty antagonistic toward him.”

“She’s a teenager,” Max says. “She’s supposed to be antagonistic. It’s her job.”

“Maybe. But it seemed more than teenage angst. She said something about Ramon wanting Antonio to avenge himself against the bullies and when he wouldn’t, Ramon called him a disgrace, a weakling. And took matters into his own hands.”

Max takes a break from eating to look at me. “You think Ramon’s killing Rójan was premeditated?”

“I don’t know. But Gabriella seems to think so. She didn’t know anything about a suicide note, either. I’m not sure she knew he had been raped. In her mind, Antonio killed himself because he couldn’t live up to his father’s ‘standards.’”

Max lifts his shoulder and takes another bite. “You should probably let Culebra know. He seems to take everything Ramon says at face value.”

His words remind me of my conversation with Culebra the first night. “Maybe not.” I fill him in on the fact that Ramon does not know I’m vampire nor does he know Culebra is a shape-shifter. And that Culebra thought it best not to divulge our natures to Ramon.

Max has the same reaction I had. “Then what are we doing? Why did Culebra drag us into this thing if he doesn’t trust Ramon?”

My turn to shrug. “Culebra owes Ramon some kind of blood debt. One he feels obligated to repay. Besides, this is your big chance to get intel on Santiago, right? I’d think it wouldn’t matter to you how.”

“True.” He drags a tortilla across the plate, scooping up bits of meat and beans and with a look of pure contentment, slips the food into his mouth. When he sees me watching him, he smacks his lips appreciatively and grins.

Show-off. “I think you missed a bean. Maybe licking the plate would be more efficient?”

Max sniffs, still grinning. “Jealousy is such an ugly emotion.” He lays the plate on the table and looks out the door at the early evening sun blazing its lazy path across the winter sky. “We’ve got a lot of time to kill.”

I stand and hand him the laptop. “I’m going downstairs to take a nap. May as well rest while I can. I’ll bring the plate back to Maria and tell her how wonderful lunch was. You can stand guard.”

Max rubs his stomach. “Shit. I ate too much. Maybe I should go down for that nap.”

“Nope. I called it first.” I reach under the rim of the table and activate the lever. “You can jog around the cabin—work off a few of those calories. Those jeans look a little tight on you. Wouldn’t want you splitting any seams.”

He raises an eyebrow. “It’s not me,” he says. “Ramon doesn’t have my manly physique.”

“Yeah. Right.”

Max steps closer, too close.

“I can think of another way to work off a few calories.”

“Are you nuts?” I push him away with both hands. “You’d better lay off the mescal. We’re not a couple. Haven’t been for a long time. I have a boyfriend, Stephen, remember?”

“Maybe you do and maybe you don’t.”

His obvious glee at the thought that my days with Stephen are numbered makes me angry enough to tell him exactly what I’m thinking. “Stephen is not like you. He doesn’t judge me. He knows I didn’t choose to become a vampire. He loves me in spite of it.”

Max sniffs. “Does he? Is that why you didn’t tell him where you were going or who you were with? You saved his ass because you’re a vampire. He’s grateful. Now. Just wait until he has to live with it.”

“I saved your ass, too.” The words come out in a growl. “And you weren’t very grateful, were you? Thanks for reminding me, Max. You’re a real prick.”

I’m down the stairs quicker than Max can come up with a response. At the bottom, I work the combination and when the door opens, I’m facing three pairs of startled eyes.

Shit. I forgot. I should have knocked. Now they know I know the combination.

Too late. And right now, I’m too aggravated with Max to care what they know. I hand Maria the plate. “Thank you. The food was delicious.” I take a quick glance around. “Where’s Gabriella?”

Maria takes the plate. “She went to her room. Is Max keeping watch?”

“Yes. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to lie down for a while. We didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Ramon looks ready to ask me how I got the door open, but Culebra comes to my rescue. “Taking a nap is a good idea. We’ll be up late tonight. You get some rest. Ramon, Maria and I still have much to catch up on.” He smiles at them and for the moment, at least, they are caught up in his good humor.

Culebra can feel that I’m angry with Max, but he doesn’t intrude on my thoughts to ask why. I nod and make my escape, leaving them sitting around the table.

Just a warm, happy, cozy little family reunion.

What a fucking joke.

CHAPTER 24

THIS TIME, MARIA LEFT ME A PAIR OF JEANS AND A white long-sleeved blouse with a scoop neck and embroidery around the cuffs and hem. The clothes are laid out neatly on the bed. The dress or nightgown or whatever the hell that was is gone. I move Maria’s latest offering to the chest at the foot of the bed, intending to shower again after I take a nap. Now I strip out of my well-worn clothes and toss all except my belt into the trash basket in the bathroom. I won’t be packing anything to take with me. Then I crawl naked under the blankets.

It’s cool and dark in the room.

I close my eyes.

Max’s face is imprinted on the back of my eyelids. He’s laughing. He’s gotten to me and he knows it.

But he’s wrong about Stephen. Stephen won’t leave me because I’m vampire. The way Max did. If Stephen leaves me it’s because I came on this stupid campaign without telling him where I was going or what I was doing.

Why did I do that? Stephen could have handled the truth. Probably would have applauded my loyalty. Instead I kept it from him.

I press my fingertips against my eyes until sharp pinpoints of light explode behind my eyelids, obliterating Max’s sneering face and replacing it with shards of white light that spin like a mirrored pinwheel.

Fuck you, Max. I’m not going to think about losing Stephen anymore. He’ll either be waiting for me when I get back . . .

Or he won’t.

* * *

I’M AWAKENED BY A TAPPING ON THE BEDROOM DOOR.

I glance at my watch.

It’s late—after eleven. I’ve been asleep for almost six hours?

“Yes?” I call through the door.

“We’re waiting for you. Are you all right?”

It’s Max. “I’m fine.” Shithead. “Give me ten minutes.”

I hear him move away down the hall. It’s a good thing he didn’t let himself into the room. I would have had his head.

I roll out of bed, mind numb from sleep. Too long. I slept too long. I should have had Culebra wake me after an hour or so.

A scalding hot shower with a brisk icy follow-up clears my head, snaps me back. Gabriella’s clothes fit. I feel refreshed, rested for the first time in two days.

When I walk into the living area, Culebra, Ramon and Max are gathered at the bar; Ramon and Culebra are behind it, Max on the other side. He indicates I should join him. Reluctantly, I do. It would be too obvious if I ignored him. Even as hard as I’m trying to keep a lid on my aggravation, Culebra feels it. He raises curious eyebrows but doesn’t push with a question.

Ramon runs his eyes over my clothes. “Are you more comfortable now?”

I nod. “Thank Gabriella for me.” There is a map laid out on the bar. I point to it. “Is that a map of Santiago’s village?”

Max turns toward me. “This is a topographical map of the area. We’re looking for a way to get to the village where Santiago is said to be living. A way that will not expose us to the villagers or to Santiago’s air patrols.”

I don’t so much as glance his way but stay focused on the map. “Where is the village?”

Ramon places a finger on a point that, judging from the legend, seems to be about ten miles east of us. But the area does not look to be mountainous, just flat desert.

“Not going to be easy,” I say. “To approach unnoticed.”

“We can’t take the Jeep,” Culebra says, nodding. “Too noisy. But Ramon says there is vegetation so we’ll have cover. We go on foot.”

Ramon looks at me, then away. I read the skepticism on his face before he says, “It will be too difficult for a woman. Anna should stay here.”

He’s talking to the men, naturally.

“Don’t worry about Anna.” Max says before I can speak up. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

I stay quiet. I’m not about to defend myself again to Ramon. If my little display of bravado with the pilot didn’t convince him, nothing will. Besides, it might be better if he doesn’t want me to come with them. I can move far faster and with more stealth on my own. Tracking this trio should be a piece of cake. I look at Culebra and open my thoughts.

Culebra understands. You may be right.He lets a frown pull at the corners of his mouth and says out loud, “Perhaps Anna should stay here. We’ll move faster without a woman holding us back.”

I almost smile.

Then Max sends an astonished “what the fuck” expression Culebra’s way that is sure to be followed with some kind of spoiler about how strong and fast and what a good tracker I am. Was he listening at all when I told him Ramon shouldn’t know about me? Or has he been hitting the mescal again? I take matters into my own hands.

By smacking him across the face. Hard.

He yelps, hand on his cheek, and turns fire-flashing eyes toward me. “What the hell.”

“I know what you’re doing. Don’t think you can make up with me. I don’t want to go anywhere with you. You boys think you can do better on your own? Be my guest.”

Ramon lowers his head and says to Culebra, “Pensé que ella era homosexual. ¿Son amantes?”

“Evidentemente no más,”Culebra replies dryly.

Max finally catches on, though the anger blazing from his eyes at my smacking him is real enough. “La perra se queda aquí,”he snaps.

The bitch stays here.

Cute, Max. Nice way to get into character.

The three proceed to plot their course as if I’ve left the room. I plop myself into a chair to pout. And listen. When all the plans are made and they are ready to leave, that’s my cue to jump out of the chair and glare. “I’m going to my room,” I snap and flounce off.

No one, not even Culebra, bothers to say good-bye.

CHAPTER 25

I LEAVE THE BEDROOM DOOR OPEN JUST A CRACK SO I can listen to what’s happening in the living room. There is a rustling of activity as supplies are gathered, backpacks filled, weapons made ready. At one point, Ramon enters his wife’s room. I assume to let her know that they are leaving. She follows him back to the living room, voice tense as she says her good-byes.

Neither Max nor Culebra venture into my room. Max is still offended by the slap; Culebra knows we will be in touch as soon as they leave and I follow.

Finally, I hear the pneumatic whoosh of the door being opened. Maria calls a last “ vayan con dios,” reverently, as if the three were embarking on a religious crusade. All I have to do now is wait for her to go back to bed and I can be on my way, too.

So, I wait.

Maria is walking around the living area. It sounds as if she’s straightening up, glasses clinking, papers rustling.

Come on, Maria. You can do all that tomorrow morning. Go to bed.

But she doesn’t.

In another minute, the smell of coffee drifts back.

Shit. She’s making coffee. What’s she planning to do? Hold a vigil until her man gets back?

Finally she goes into her bedroom and closes the door. Now’s my chance. I exit my room and tiptoe past her door, heading for the living room. Then I’m through the living area and ready to work the code to open the door to the staircase. Hopefully they haven’t changed it after my unexpected and stupid appearance yesterday.

Suddenly, I hear her bedroom door open once again and footsteps approach.

My fingers fly over the keypad. I’ve just hit Enter when I hear another sound. The door slides open, but I hardly notice. At my back, the unmistakable ratchet of a pump-action shotgun being primed to fire freezes me to the spot.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

I do. I don’t intend to see what a shotgun would do to me or to find out how long it takes me to recover from such a wound.

Maria has the gun leveled at my torso.

“What are you doing, Maria?”

“Ramon said you might try to follow. He was right. He wants you to stay here.”

“But I came to help. How can I help if I’m here?”

Maria sniffs. “You are a woman. How could you help? You would only be a distraction. What is to be done is men’s work.”

“And you know what is to be done?”

“I know enough. Ramon is wise in these ways. He and Tomás will do what is necessary.”

“And Max.”

Another disdainful sniff. “Ramon knows what Max is. Un policía contra narcótraficant.He is alive only because he is Tomás’s friend. He will stay alive only as long as he is useful. If you and he are indeed lovers, I think you will soon be wearing ropa de luto.”

I don’t recognize the expression. “What does that mean?”

“Mourning clothes,” she says.

An icy finger touches the back of my neck. I have to get out of here. Maria is still gripping the trigger of the shotgun. I need to get it away from her without waking Gabriella. If she’s like her mother, she’s likely to come out guns blazing at the sound of a shotgun blast.

“Can I sit down?” I ask. “That shotgun scares me.”

She jabs in the direction of the couch. I back toward it, keeping Maria in my line of sight. I’m hoping she wants to secure the door and sure enough, she half turns to the keyboard, trying to keep the shotgun level on me at the same time she works the code.

I don’t give her a chance to do, either. I’m on her in less than a heartbeat, wrenching the gun from her and pushing her down onto the floor. I put a finger to her lips. “No noise. Wouldn’t want to wake your daughter.”

She glares at me. “Puta.”

That again. “How do you communicate with Ramon?”

She looks like she’s not going to answer so I tickle her chin with the barrel of the shotgun. “I said I didn’t want to wake your daughter. I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

Harsh, maybe. But it works. “Cell phone.”

“Where is it?”

She clamps her jaws tight but her eyes betray her. They flicker toward the table. I grab her arm, yank her to her feet and pull her with me. The cell phone is on the counter separating the kitchen from the dining area. I drop it to the floor, crush it with my heel and toss it onto the counter.

“Does Gabriella have a phone?”

She shakes her head. “No. Cell phones are a danger to us—too easy to trace. We have only the one. She is not allowed.”

Knowing Gabriella, knowing teenagers, I suspect she might have a phone her folks don’t know about. Like the iPod. But there’s nothing I can do about that. I push Maria down into one of the chairs and look around for something to tie her up with. I don’t see anything promising. In the kitchen area there are some towels hanging from a wooden spool. I grab up two, tear them into strips and bind her hands and feet.

“Who are you working for?” she asks, twisting her head to watch as I secure the knots. “Are you with Santiago? Has he hired you to kill us?”

For the first time, her voice shakes a bit, her eyes grow big. She is afraid.

I jam the last piece of towel into her mouth. “No. Tomás spoke the truth when he told Ramon we were here to help. All of us. It’s too bad your husband didn’t believe it.”

I give the strip of towel a tug to make sure it is tight across her mouth. I don’t want her calling out to her daughter as soon as I’m gone. I bend down so we are eye level. “I will tell you this. If any harm comes to any of my friends because of Ramon, you may be the one wearing ropa de luto.”

She believes me. The panic in her eyes confirms it.

She struggles to speak through the gag but nothing comes through but garbled sounds.

This time, I make it out the door. I wish I could think of a way of disabling the keypad. Keep Maria and Gabriella locked inside. A quick examination of the lock doesn’t yield any simple or obvious ways to do it. So I resort to another simple and obvious way—I punch a fist through the mechanism. I suppose there might be a failsafe somewhere inside, but Maria won’t be able to get to it until she’s untied. And if Gabriella is a typical teen, it may be hours before she gets up and finds her mother.

So now I’m off. Up the stairway, out through the cabin. It’s quiet and dark in the clearing. No breeze, a sprinkling of stars overhead, a crescent moon. I let vampire surface, listen for sounds of the men moving through the brush. I sniff the air. Thanks to Maria’s puttering, they have a sixty-minute lead, but I know the direction they’ll be traveling.

The ground I run over is rock strewn and covered with low brush. I startle small creatures—rats, snakes, rabbits—in my path. Insects scurry or fly away. From just out of sight, a bigger predator hunts, taking off after the vermin I send scampering in his direction.

Say thank you, vampire growls.

In ten minutes, I pick up the scent. Max, first, the most familiar, then Culebra and Ramon. They move with purpose, not as quietly as I, and it’s not hard to catch up.

I slow down, the human Anna pushes a reluctant vampire back into vigilance mode. It’s my turn to take up the pursuit.

The men move steadily eastward. I recall bits of their conversation from earlier. Santiago is living on the outskirts of a village far from Reynosa. He has bought and paid for the village, supplying the residents with money and food in exchange for their silence and cooperation. Anyone suspected of not cooperating has already been disposed of.

He is planning to run his business from this remote location until the heat dies down. The latest round of violence has spilled across the border. The murder of an American tourist caught in the cross fire between narco factions raised the ire of both the Federalesand U.S. cops. Ground and air patrols have increased, suspected drug houses closed down, the usual avenues open to money laundering unavailable because of closer government scrutiny.

Ramon said this is why Santiago wants him dead. The boy he killed was the son of a government official who facilitated the exchange of dirty money for clean. He oversaw the chains of casas de cambios, money exchange houses, moving billions of narco dollars through the system. The man now refuses to reopen the channels until he gets his revenge. Until Rójan’s killer is dead.

If Max, Culebra and Ramon continue at this rate, it will take them well past daybreak to reach the village. They’ll have to camp somewhere on the route to wait for the cover of darkness to get close. I can reach the village much faster.

I send a message to Culebra. I’m here.

I thought I’d hear from you sooner.

Ran into a little trouble with Maria. She tried to keep me at the cave.

Why would she do that?Culebra’s tone indicates surprise.

Ramon,I answer simply. You should tell Max that Ramon doesn’t trust him. He should be on his guard.

Culebra’s surprise turns into concern. Why would he distrust the one man who can get his family to safety?

Don’t know. Didn’t stick around to ask. Listen, I’m going on ahead to take a look around the village. See if I can pick out where Santiago is hiding.

We won’t make it before sunrise,Culebra says, echoing my thoughts, impatient that he has to stay behind. We’ll have to take cover on the trail.

I’ll come back as soon as I can.

Culebra closes our mental communication conduit. What lingers after is the definite trace of bitterness that he can’t shape-shift and come with me. There’s just a touch of jealousy there, too.

Makes me smile.