Page 98 of Fixed Asset

“I walked in on him violating a friend,” Calista spat. “I’ve never had a man take me against my will, but still, I can imagine having it done is the worst thing that can happen to a woman. Add in two other men being present, lounging back on a couch like they don’t have a care in the world while you’re begging for help, takes the worst thing that can happen to you and ratchets that shit up a few hundred notches.”

“Jesus fuck, I hope you made it painful,” Pete interjected.

“Unfortunately, no,” Calista told him. “At the time, I was more concerned with getting my friend out of the hell Stone had put her in than I was with making them pay. It wasn’t until I had Diane safely back at her place and I’d spent the next eight hours holding my girl while she sobbed and violently shook in my arms that I wished I’d had time to get creative.”

I seriously liked this woman.

“How’d you get tagged for the murder?”

“I wasn’t exactly careful when I broke a window to gain entry into Victor’s home. I cut my hand on the broken glass. What’s funny—and not in a ha-ha way—is Diane’s DNA was all over Stone, if you get what I’m saying, and the police have never once questioned her. Explain to me how a dead man’s dick can be covered in body fluids and that woman isn’t a suspect, but a random drop of blood found on the floor is.

“Don’t bother taxing your brain, I’ll tell you why. Victor is known to take what he wants, but more, he likes to be watched. The two other men were prominent attorneys. Victor was the aide of a senator, and that piece of shit liked to watch Victor. No one wants the woman connected to those fluids to be found. Hell, I’d bet my savings account the condom I left on his dead dick magically disappeared before the ME was on scene. Now, don’t mistake me. I don’t want Diane anywhere near this. I’m happy she hasn’t been dragged into the fallout.”

“Even if it means helping you with a defense—”

If Mason meant to say more, he didn’t get the chance before Calista cut him off.

“Revictimize the victim so I get a lesser sentence. No thanks.”

Apparently no one had anything to say to that. After a few beats of silence, Calista said, “I was in a snit when I thanked you all for the save, but I really did mean it. And Catarina, I’m sorry about the whole gun in your face.”

I waved the apology off.

“All in a day’s work.”

I heard Jack growl, and I leaned into his side and tipped my head back to smile at him.

He wasn’t smiling. But he no longer looked red-hot pissed, so I was considering it a win.

“We’re coming up on the bay,” Pete announced.

The boat slowed. Bad news for me and my stomach was, at this new speed, the boat rocked more. The mouth of the bay came into view, no lighthouse to guide vessels into the harbor, just a wide opening with a lonely, low-lit building up on the bluff. A church, maybe. Either that or someone had prime real estate overlooking the water and the village farther off in the distance. And that village was lit up like a beacon in dark moonlight.

“Jack, pull up the map. What’s the terrain north of the pier look like?” Pete asked.

Jack shifted to get his phone back out. He pulled up the map, angling the screen so I could see too. There was a mountain—okay, more like a very tall hill—that cut off the beach from the village proper. It’d be a trek to traverse it, and it would also put us on the only road entering the village. Jack used his finger to move the map south of the pier. More of the same rocky shoreline.

“I think it’s a safer bet pulling into that alcove there.” I pointed at the map. “And coming up from the south. The terrain’s not much better, but we’ll avoid the road. We can stay on the outskirt of town.”

“Too rocky,” Jack denied. “We’d have to anchor and swim in.”

“You got a problem getting wet, sailor?”

“No. I gotta problem with you getting smashed against jagged boulders.”

I had a problem with that too. But it was still the best course of action.

“I can swim,” I told him. “And the water’s calm.”

Though my roiling stomach belied my statement.

“I thought you said you were afraid of sharks,” Mason unhelpfully put in.

“It’s called Bahia Tortuga, not Bahia Tiburón,” I reminded him.

However, I wasn’t sure I wanted to swim with sea turtles either. I’d never seen one in real life, but like two-thirds—that was a rough guesstimate, but I figured it was close enough—of the population had seen them on TV. Those fuckers were huge. I couldn’t remember the size of their mouths, and with a possible dip into the water on the horizon, I wasn’t going to think about it.

“If you looked at the map, would you be able to locate the house Carlos took you to?”