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“Nope. I’m saving my breath until I figure out what I’m going to do.”
“Do you have an idea of what you’ll do?”
“Kill my cousin.”
“Obviously. That’s step one,” said the ex-parole officer.
“I’ll go back to running Easter Lanes. I’ll sleep there if I have to. I’m not letting this mess with my livelihood.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
I glanced her way. She was driving and paying attention to the street, but I was studying her.
“You sound serious about that.”
“I am.” She glanced my way for a second. “Ashton sidelined me, and I’ll never admit this to his face, but he had reason. But you working, I can help with that. That gives me something to do.”
“How’s the painting?”
Jess’s mouth flattened, and she swallowed over a knot in her throat. I could see it. She ducked her head down briefly, her hand tightening over the steering wheel. “It’s—not well. I’ve tried, but the only thing I can paint is Kelly. Over and over again.”
Jess was an up-and-coming artist. Her paintings were getting picked up by galleries, and there had been an article written about her not long ago. I remember thinking it was one shining spot for her amid everything.
“I go in. I try to paint. I want to paint, but then I go into a catatonic state, and when I come out of it, it’s Kelly. I can only paint her.” Her voice was hoarse. “So.” She cleared her throat, forcing a smile my way. “Besides taking my mom in for her doctor visits, I can hang out at Easter Lanes.” She let out a sudden laugh. “Consider me your personal bodyguard. What’s Ashton going to do? Mafia wars can take months, years even. You have to work.”
She was right. I had to work.
Also, months? Years? Talk about bleak.
Wait. “Your mom? Hospital visits?”
Jess flinched, just a tiny bit. “She had some weird test results come up, so we’ve been taking her in to get that checked more. They’re not sure what it is yet.”
Oh man. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. I mean . . . it’s okay.” She glanced my way. “What’s your plan with your cousin?”
“Oh! I do not need a plan for him.”
That wasn’t totally true.
We got to his building, and I buzzed his neighbor. She was my version of Mrs. Tulip, but instead of my own Mrs. Tulip—“Hello? I didn’t order anything.”
“Hi, Mrs. Navarro!” Upbeat and happy. She really loved that side of me. “This is—”
Bzzzzzz!
Jess smothered a laugh. “I could’ve used you when I went to visit some of my parolees.”
I grabbed the door and went inside, bypassing the elevator. “That gets stuck every third day between floors twelve and fourteen. It’s the thirteenth-floor effect. I swear by it.”
“Hmmm.” Jess grunted, heading up with me.
When we got to his floor, his neighbor’s door was open, and Mrs. Navarro was waving a blanket in the air. “Oh, it is you! I thought I might’ve reacted a little hastily.”
“Hello, Mrs. Navarro.” I went to her, hands on her shoulders, and I kissed both of her cheeks. She grew up in Spain, so I kept up with her custom.
She was beaming at me and patted my hand. “How are you, honey?”
“I’m good.” I glanced toward Glen’s door. “I gotta handle something with my cousin, but how are you? You look amazing. Tan hermosa.”
“Oh!” But she was beaming and waved a hand to me. “Dios te bendigo.”
My Spanish was rusty. I’d given up trying to get better, but I nodded and smiled back. Anything Mrs. Navarro was saying, I loved it. She kept talking until her phone began ringing. “Oh, honey. I need to get that. You come by next Sunday for dinner. I never need an excuse to make paella, but I’ll make it just for you with extra spices.”
I was so totally down for that. “I’ll be here. Tell me the time.”
She reached inside, grabbing her phone and speaking into it before handing me a key. “Come over around six, and here you go. Slide it under the door when you’re done.”
“Gracias, Señora Navarro. Gracias.”
“Ooh!” She came back, kissing my cheeks and giving me an extra pat there. “Tan hermosa! You!” The person on her phone was speaking fast and loud, so she motioned to it and stepped back inside, another wave of her free hand.
Jess had been holding back, but she came closer, looking at the key. “That was . . . amazing to watch.”
I chuckled, stepping over and fitting the key into the lock. I turned it, unlocking it, and I took it back out, sliding it under Mrs. Navarro’s door before I forgot. After that, it was Glen Ass-Kicking time.
I shoved open the door, expecting to hear—I had no clue.
I was greeted with the sounds of nothing.
I stepped inside, and a wave of tension went through me. My stomach tightened up.
