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“Good. You'll make sure no trace of him is found?”
“It's still smoldering, but as soon as I can, I'll personally take care of it,” Eduardo promised. He was satisfied, knowing my father was dead and he'd indirectly had a hand in it.
“I'll check in when I can.”
“Can I call you at this number?”
“For now.”
We hung up, and I stepped into the shower and turned on the taps. I expected a blast of cold water, but the spray was immediately warm. I turned up the temperature until it was as hot as I could stand. I stood there for a long time, letting the heat burn away the sins I could never atone for, waiting for it to wash away the remains of the hell from which I'd emerged.
I hissed when the scalding water hit my scalp, yet I refused to turn down the heat. With vigorous strokes, I scrubbed myself until my skin was almost raw. This was the last time I'd kill. I wanted to be clean.
Yet . . . something inside me had grown to take pleasure from eliminating the life of someone who deserved to die. I wasn't judge, jury, and executioner, but it was a part I played. Sometimes it was premeditated, and sometimes it happened after a split-second decision. What if Ineededto kill now? What if this was a sickness that had taken root and spread like a cancer? I couldn't get away with that here in America. Who was I now, some vigilante crusader? I hadn't ever murdered an innocent person, but the people whose lives I'd taken weren't much different from me. I was the heir apparent to the largest drug cartel in my part of Central America. That title didn't go to honorable men. Except that cartel didn't exist any longer. I'd made sure of it.
I tugged on my hair and closed my eyes, the hot spray stinging my face. I pounded my fist on the stone wall and let out a string of curses. I'd heard about people who went deep undercover to infiltrate crime rings and then somehow lost themselves. The line between good and evil blurred. That was what I'd considered myself for many years—an undercover agent. My presence was necessary to thwart as much wrong as I could. But had I gotten lost? Because I sure as hell had participated to the point where it had become second nature. And the things I'd done? I wasn't all that sorry for.
Maybe I shouldn't have come here. I didn't want to drag Muriella into this hell with me. She was good; even our father couldn't permanently stain her. She wasn't responsible for my soul, and I didn't want to darken hers, but my need to know her again, to have real family, overrode all my doubts.
I turned off the taps and toweled off, my skin red and sensitive. Tucking the towel around my waist, I quickly ran a razor over my face, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair.
Everyone was dressed casually, so I tugged on a pair of jeans and a gray sweater, then slipped a pair of loafers on my feet. I didn't feel like facing a crowd, but I was ravenous, and this was why I’d come. I couldn't get to know Muriella again by hiding away in my room.
“Here you are, darlin',”Miss Ruby said as soon as I walked into the kitchen. She spooned some sort of dip onto a plate and spread tortilla chips beside it. “Careful now. It just came out of the oven, so it's hot.”
“I'll get you some tea,” Mrs. Jacobs volunteered, filling a red plastic cup to the brim with ice cubes and then pouring liquid over them from a glass pitcher.
“Thank you.” I snagged a chip and dunked it in the savory dip, nodding my approval as soon as the food hit my tongue. “Delicious.”
The women beamed at me as Muriella took dishes out of the warming drawer. “Hope you're hungry,” she tossed over her shoulder.
“Starving.”
My sister piled my plate with food and then shoved me out of the kitchen. “Male bonding,” she said by way of explanation. That wasn't exactly what I was here for, but if it made her happy, I'd do it.
“Hey, Carlos. Sit here. That way you can use the coffee table for your spread,” Stone said, moving from his spot in the middle of the sofa.
“Thanks,” I said instead of arguing. I found myself between Mitch, Stone's brother, and Daniel, his best friend.
“We were beginning to think you wouldn't make it,” Mitch said.
The little time I'd spent around him, he seemed all right. He was always poking at Stone and their sister, Mulaney, but in all fairness, they gave it right back.
“Took me a little longer than I'd anticipated to get away,” I said, shoveling meat into my mouth. Damn, those women could cook. There wasn't a meal I'd eaten with them I hadn't enjoyed.
“You watch football?” The eldest Mr. Jacobs gestured at the television. It wasn't what I called football, but that argument was probably best left to another time.
“I keep up,” I answered truthfully. It was entertaining enough. I’d been inundated with everything American my entire life thanks to my father.
“How long are you planning to be in the city?” Daniel asked, stretching out his legs, his gaze intent.
This man might not say much, but he most definitely didn't miss anything. I was wary of him, recognizing some traits in him I had myself. But I owed him for my baby sister's life. If Daniel hadn't taken care of her all these years, I'd have more regret on my conscience than I already did. No. That wasn’t right. If my sister was dead, I’d have no purpose for living. I was in his debt, and no matter the kind of man he was or the secrets he harbored, he would always have an ally in me.
“I'm not sure yet. I suppose I'll stay until my sister kicks me out,” I joked.
“Great. You'll never leave,” Stone groaned before giving me a smile.That's the plan, bro.
“If the food is always like this, I won’t,” I assured him as I forked the last bite into my mouth.
