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“GOOD TO SEE you, Edgar,” I say, bending at the waist to kiss Luna’s uncle on the cheek. We’re inside a restaurant owned by the De Leon boys, where the staff here knows me and a waitress is quick to place a Materva soda in front of me before giving Edgar his coffee. “Have you had lunch yet?”
He chuckles. “Already ahead of you. They’re cooking my vaca frita as we speak.”
“Damn, that sounds good.” Neither of us has a menu.
“You thinking of ordering one?”
“No. I don’t need to put in an order.” There’s only one thing I eat each time I’m here, and that’s not changing today. “The imperial rice is all I ever get, and I’m not about to break tradition.”
“Sounds good.” Edgar smiles at a waitress while waving her over. She’s not more than halfway to us when he points at me. “I’ll take the vaca frita to go but blame this one for tempting with the arroz imperial. All. On. Her.”
“Men.” Jenny laughs. The older woman has been around for years. Before I met the family. “Always blaming women, when they’re the ones with constant cravings. Right, mi niña?”
“Amen.” I hold a hand up and she high-fives it, giving Edgar a huff. All in good fun, but the man pouts until she smiles and then leaves to put in the added order.
“So.”
“So,” we say in unison, which I snort at. “This isn’t a social call, and you know it. Might as well get to the point and enjoy our meal after? Sound good?”
“Go for it, kid. What do you need help with?” Edgar has been with the Miami Dade Police Department for years; he’s respected and has the kind of in I need to get information on Detective Uriel. “By the way, is Ivan aware of this meeting? You know I’m loyal to the family.”
“No. And I’m also not sure if what I’m going to tell you is cause for worry or not.”
“Do you plan on telling the De Leons either way?”
“Yes. I haven’t heard back from Ivan, but my next stop is Maritza or Orlando, depending on what you have to say.”
“What’s going on?” he asks, leaning forward in his seat while every few minutes sliding his gaze to the entrance. Edgar is in uniform, not sure if on duty or just got off, but the cop in him is ever vigilant. “Are you in trouble?”
“That’s what I don’t know.” Opening my oversized purse, I pull out an envelope and hand it over. “The man in this file is missing, and his fiancée came asking for help. She believes that through my connection, I can find the detained prisoner that no one has ever heard about. Detective Uriel—”
“Has that asshole contacted you?”
“Yes. Multiple times over the same missing person.” Tilting my head toward the file, I purse my lips. “The report and info are inside, all given to me by him and the fiancée, but something is off.”
“You’re not a private investigator.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“I know him, and he’s rotten. Jaime and his family hate the De Leons.” Fuck. My gut instincts were right, and they’re trying to use me against them. And right before I convey that, Edgar laughs at something, and I am lost. “Those motherfucking snakes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Amberlyn, the person you’ve been looking for doesn’t exist.” That sinking feeling I had earlier returns, my eyes studying the grainy picture of the man he’s pointing at. Then, he turns the page and pulls out one given to me by Karen of herself with whom she claims is Ramon, hugging her. “The person in this picture is Dalian Uriel, sweetheart.”
“What the hell? Uriel?”
“Detective Jaime Uriel’s younger brother.” Edgar pulls out his phone and sends off a short text. Within seconds, there’s a reply and he meets my eyes again. “I’m having someone pull records. Shouldn’t take long. We’ll go from there.”
“We will?”
“You’re not alone. Ivan would kill me—Luna’s uncle or not—if anything happened to you.” Then he gets an amused look. “Not to mention my niece. Luna can be intense.”
Ignoring the mention of the younger De Leon, I raise a brow. “Does she know you’re scared of her?”
“Her and Natasha.” His bark of laughter catches a few eyes, but people look away just as quickly. “My daughter is trouble, too.”
“I’ll make sure to let them know.”
