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“Uh…actually, she died. Yeah, she turned on me and tried to kill me. It was actually pretty shocking. I thought we were in love.”
“You floated around the ocean with her for a few days. How can that be love?”
“Well, I only knew Honey forty-eight hours before I married her,” he answered.
“That’s my point.”
“Boss…are you saying you think Honey is going to try to kill me like Francesca did?”
“I don’t know,” I snapped. “None of your story makes sense. You haven’t finished a single goddamn story you’ve told.”
“Well, that’s because?—“
“It’s classified,” I finished for him. “Yeah, I got it. So, what’s the deal with Mallock? How did he survive? And what the fuck does it have to do with the woman that was just held hostage?”
“That’s a good question. See, when we were in Mexico, everyone was looking for this guy known as El Cuco. He’s the equivalent of the boogeyman. Now, legend has it that he kidnaps children, but this man, he was a legend for stealing priceless artifacts. When I found out about this guy, I visited a local curator, and guess who I ran into?”
“Mallock.”
“Exactly. When I approached him, he grabbed the woman and used her as a shield, and then escaped with her. I always thought she looked a little comfortable with a gun at her head, so I’m wondering now if the woman held hostage is the same woman I met in Mexico.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch.”
“Is it? I’m just saying, you should at least let me take a look at her before you release her. Then I’ll know for sure if she has anything to do with this.”
“And Mallock?” I asked, jerking my thumb at the backseat.
“Our story didn’t end when he escaped with the woman.”
“Of course it didn’t.”
A grin spread across his face. “Do you want to hear it?”
“Does it really matter whether or not I do?”
“Not really. Okay, so Mallock escaped with this woman, the curator. I didn’t have a gun on me, so I hoped that he would let her go as soon as he got away. But when I ran to the back of the museum, they were both gone. There were tire tracks leading away from the museum, but that’s as far as I got until I met Gordo.”
“I know I’m going to regret this, but who’s Gordo?”
“Gordo was the man that eventually led me to the treasure.”
“So, you’re saying you found it.”
A funny look crossed his face. “Boss, I already told you I found it. Remember? In Utah?”
This shit was getting really old. If a treasure had been found, the whole world would know about it. I wasn’t even sure why I was listening at this point.
“Fine, so, how did Gordo help you?”
“Well, it was a hot summer night. I was at the local watering hole, drinking away my troubles when I saw an old map hanging on the wall. It was dated back five hundred years, and I got curious about how it compared to a current map. Gordo was the bartender and was bored out of his mind, so he told me all about the area and what he knew about the legend. That’s where it got interesting. Gordo was descended from the Aztecs, though no one believed him. He was the laughingstock of the village. But a lead is a lead, so I listened to the story. He said that while the Spanish were fleeing after the invasion, some of the Aztecs took the gold and traveled north, hiding the gold in various locations. And one of those locations happened to be his grandmother’s house,” he said with a grin.
“Convenient,” I said, totally unimpressed.
“I know, right? And that’s when the story took an interesting turn.”
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