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Instead, we ignore to protect our minds when that puts us in the most danger.
And then, occasionally, you run into an idiot like the one behind me.
He has the equivalent to the I’m on vacation syndrome. The it-will-never-happen-to-me mentality gets many in positions like this one: staring down the barrel of a gun and pleading to someone with no human compassion or morals not to hurt you.
“Anything?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at him. Completely filthy and pitiful.
“Yes.”
“I want the name of everyone involved. I want addresses and details of each.”
“Done.”
“You have forty-eight hours, Davila. Get me this information and I’ll discuss relocating you out of Florida permanently.” Henry opens his mouth to respond, but I shake my head. “I’m not being understanding or have any desire to be. Don’t mistake this for what it’s not. Fail me, and I will not only find you but gut you and leave the body and entrails for all to see hanging off the Brickell Bridge. Understood?”
“Si.”
“Then clean this up. The clock is ticking.”
“Y-you’re leaving?”
Too much hope in his voice and I laugh, the sound sardonic. “I am, but I dare you to run and hide.”
11
“MORNING, MI niña,” Mom calls out the moment I step into the office early Tuesday morning. It’s been two days since the wedding and since I last saw Ivan, and I’m worried. No text. No calls. Not so much as a late-night visit and it drills home the words I heard him say to Maribel.
Makes them real.
Not so much a mistake.
Not that he hasn’t disappeared on me before, but there’s a difference in knowing he’s working and this time, having the fact he sees you as an obligation replay in your mind like an endless reel. It’s why I took yesterday off; no matter how many times I went over what happened—heard—I’m left in a loop of confusion.
“Morning.” It’s a low grumble between sips of hot coffee, but she understands and then follows me toward the back where we keep a small lounge for those who work here. An employee is manning the front for now, and Mom wants to gossip. “I brought pastries and an omelet sandwich. Want half?”
“No, but I’ll take a guava and cheese turnover.” She makes a beeline for the coffee maker, her favorite mug in hand. “How was the wedding, by the way? Did you party that hard to call out yesterday?”
“Yes and no.” Another sip from my latte, not looking at her yet. I’m keeping busy by grabbing a small platter and with the help of tongs, arranging the sweets for anyone working today to grab in between clients. Some days we are busy, and others it’s a person here or there. “With all the last-minute wedding prep and helping Luna, I’m exhausted. Barely slept for a few days.”
“Do you need an extra day? We’re good if you do.”
“Nah. Just need the caffeine to kick in…” unbagging my sandwich, I take a bite and chew, then swallow “…besides, I have two cases to catch up on. Court date is coming up, and I’d hate for them to skip. Both have a mom’s signature on the debt.”
“Gotcha.” Mom studies me. I can feel the hard stare. The dissecting of my behavior. “Ask away, woman. What’s got your curiosity?”
“You never answered my question, kid.”
At that, I look over and raise a brow. “The inquisition hasn’t begun yet. No clue what needs to be answered.”
“Smartass.” Grabbing a few pastries, napkins, and her coffee refill, Mom takes a seat at the small kitchenette set. Pats the seat beside her and waits for me to trudge along, and once I’m seated, she turns on the cheesy grin. Yup. She wants to gossip. “Okay, now tell me. How was the wedding…everything?”
“You were there, Mom,” I chuckle before taking a second bite. When I don’t say anything else, those eyes, so much like mine, narrow. Swallowing, I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”
“Décor, food, and dances? Any surprises?”
“Same as the ceremony, catered from the restaurant and the couple’s favorites, and they danced all night until leaving. Those two couldn’t be pulled apart. So much so, the tossing of the bouquet happened right before she got in the car to leave for the honeymoon.”
“Who caught it?”
