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“It didn’t work.” Only now does it sink in how much I’ve gambled away on a silly plan—and badly lost. “God, it didn’t work. What am I going to do? I wasted too much time. That bastard will be at the airport and—”
“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do—go to the address we talked about, and you wait there for at least a day. Trust me, if you did what I told you to, you have him hooked. He’ll call on you. If not, I won’t have you fuck up everything by linking yourself back to me. Go to the address and stay the night.”
“But—”
“No buts. Do it. Yes?” His voice is muffled as if he moved his mouth from the phone. “Coming, Papi.”
“Wait! Pedro?” The line goes dead, and I slump into my seat, hopeless.
The address he gave me leads to an upscale apartment building downtown.It’s important you go there after,he told me during the hasty prep for this insane plan.It’s neutral territory. If he decides to track you down, he won’t be able to trace anything from there. If you fuck up and go to my apartment or yours, the jig is up, Pita. This is the most vital part of the plan.
Wait while Franco gets on a plane and takes off for God knows where.
I’ve trusted Pedro up until this point, but in this instance…
“I need to make a detour,” I tell the driver.
He inclines his head with a shrug. “Where to?”
Somewhere I promised myself I would never set foot near again.
CHAPTERFIVE
Braulio has an array of mansions to hide in, and my prior attempts to pin him down have resulted in nothing but frustration and heartache. But now…
Maybe it’s fate—a cruel joke on God’s part to reinforce just how much he’s forsaken me. I pick a house at random, but this time the lights are on, illuminating the entire dwelling and the hillside it resides upon. I can’t get close enough to it to make out anyone of substance—Braulio doesn’t share Jaguar’s blatant confidence in his safety. He’s as fearful as a mouse in a trap, and he should be.
Even though I can’t see him, I can feel Francisco nearby. God, I hope he can feel me and knows I will never let him go—not without a fight.
The itching drive to scale the outer wall of the complex and break inside rises up in me so fiercely it takes all of my restraint to quash it. In a trembling voice, I tell the driver to move on, and we arrive back at Pedro’s apartment just after midnight.
It’s a nice place. Too nice for his tastes, and I can tell he doesn’t spend much time here if he even owns it directly. In any case, it’s a fitting backdrop for the woman I’ve pretended to be. A pristine, lifeless façade who gives her body to the first man who offers her a way out.
Exhausted, I shower in a beautiful walk-in large enough for four people, but the walls still feel as though they’re closing in. Once I exit, wrapped in a towel, I don’t sleep in the large bed.
I pace, raking my fingers through my wet hair as Pedro’s dress dries in the bathroom.
I try calling him again, but he doesn’t answer.
By the time dawn rolls around, I have to face the truth alone without my friend’s comfort. I failed. Whatever I did wasn’t enough to grab Jaguar’s interest. I’ll have to start from ground zero and track Francisco the hard way. First, I’ll find where Braulio is and demand he tell me his whereabouts himself.
Maybe you’ll sleep with him too, a cruel part of me whispers.You seem to like spreading it around after all this time.
The realization stings. Diego was the last man to ever touch me, and for the life of me… I can’t even remember what it felt like. I can recall the pain, yes—to the degree that it feels as fresh and raw as the day he first slammed his fist into my skull for “back talk.” But not what he felt like. Not if I’d truly felt any pleasure. I can’t remember if I ever came with him inside me, moaning like a whore.
I can’t remember when it ever felt good.
I can’t remember ever craving him internally. Not wanting but craving. Like an itch has taken root inside my skin, but one I can’t ever reach. Only blunt force can. Pressure and unrelenting touch.
I hate that I can’t get that monster out of my head. At least I’ll end this debacle with a souvenir—I finally have an even bigger mistake to forget than Diego. This time, however, I had a lucky escape.
But avoiding Jaguar seems to be where my good fortune has run out. By the time daylight pierces the horizon, I know it’s over. Braulio is out of the country, and I’ve failed Franco yet again.
Despite him avoiding my calls, I owe Pedro enough that I wait until the end of his deadline. Noon. Or, at least, I wait until eleven. Just as I head for the door, my phone rings, and I retreat into the bathroom, if only so no one in the hallway can hear me screaming.
“About time you answer me, Pedro. You twisted bastard—”
“I did what you asked me to do. I didn’t guarantee any returns. Besides, you got a nice night outside of your shitty apartment out of it. And more. My little Pita placing big bets. I didn’t expect you to win it back for me,” he says, sounding smug.
