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‘Do they think you’ve betrayed them?’ John asked, choosing his words carefully. He kept giving Guillermo surreptitious glances, wondering if the guy was even remotely trustworthy.
‘Don’t look at me, man,’ Guillermo said, shaking his head. ‘I ain’t no baby killer.’
‘I didn’t say you were,’ John snapped.
Mariana’s eyes darted towards John, and in that moment, he saw the uncertainty that maybe somebody knew about them. The moment passed between them silently, swiftly, until John blinked and it was gone.
‘I haven’t done anything,’ Mariana whispered.
‘Apart from take out Emilio’s best inside man.’
John and Mariana both snapped their attention to Guillermo, who held his palms up in a sign of submission. ‘Hey, whoa, you all think I’m some dumb fuck, but I live with her.’ He pointed at Mariana. ‘I was ninety per cent sure one of you had something to do with it. Can’t say I’m disappointed. It’s been peaceful these past months, without that Murphy motherfucker following you around all the time.’
John clenched his knuckles until they made several faint popping sounds. Guillermo shifted on his feet uneasily, glancing down at John’s balled hands.
‘You can trust me, Prez,’ Guillermo said. ‘Six months that asshole’s been missing, and I ain’t said a word to nobody. This situation?’ Guillermo gestured to Mariana, to the apartment they were standing in. ‘It suits me. This girl?’ He put his hand on Mariana’s shoulder. ‘I like this girl. Not like that. She’s like a sister to me. Like a daughter.’
‘The same way Dornan’s a brother? The same way I’m your brother?’
Guillermo chuckled, but there was no joy in the sound he made. ‘Man, you know my deal. I’m a hired fucking thug. I wear the patch, I look out for my boys, but I would shoot any one of them, you included, if she needed me to.’
John felt his eyebrows practically hit the roof. He hadn’t known that Guillermo could speak that many consecutive sentences, let alone have an opinion on something that didn’t involve free pussy or cheap beer.
‘How’d the . . . package get here, anyway?’
‘Emilio called me this morning,’ Mariana said quietly. She was as removed now as she had been fiery, not five minutes earlier. ‘He told me there was something waiting outside the front door for me, and I knew he was outside watching. I had this weird feeling that he was going to shoot me or something. But instead, I found this big box.’ She was gesturing with her hands the size of the box. ‘I brought it inside and locked the door again, and I opened it. It was a suitcase. And inside . . .’ Her chin wobbled, tears welling in her eyes. ‘When I saw the box sitting outside, I thought . . . I thought it was a computer. To replace my old one. I didn’t think–’ She made a little gasping sound, holding her chest with her hand. She looked so young when she was terrified. She looked like the girl Dornan had first ushered into his office ten years ago, instead of the steely woman she’d been forced to become.
John stood there helplessly. All he wanted to do was kill somebody. Rip them apart, limb by limb, until this pressure in his chest went away. This throb in his skull. This desperation that sat in his stomach like lead. He’d always known what kind of men he worked for – was controlled by – but this? This was something else. In that moment, John’s thoughts flashed to his own death, and part of him knew there was almost no chance they were going to escape with their lives. It was just that cut and dried, that fucking sure. He loved this woman more than he’d ever loved anyone, and as she wept in front of him he could already see how the blood would look when it seeped from her nose and her mouth, the way she would cry as her life bled away. As she died. John ground his teeth together hopelessly. He just wanted to be with her. More than that, he just wanted her to be free. He just wanted her to be able to see the son she’d had ripped from her as a teenager, the son she hadn’t seen since he was hours old, the son who was waiting for her in Colombia until it was safe enough for them all to leave Los Angeles.
An unbearable sadness fell upon John. He didn’t want to die. Didn’t want Ana to die. Didn’t want to leave Juliette with the likes of Caroline to guide her through life.
We could just get in the car now, John thought. Knock Guillermo out – hell, shoot him dead – get the car, get Juliette, and drive across that border. It was only three hours from LA to the Mexican crossing. They’d get over there, get some fake IDs and disappear. Shit, they didn’t even need to go to Mexico. LAX was a thirty-minute drive away if the traffic was favourable. They could ask for the first flight to England, or Australia, or fucking Antarctica.
She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t leave without Jason. And John wouldn’t leave without her. So they were all stuck.
‘Show her some fucking comfort, man,’ Guillermo said, his words cutting through John’s vortex of thoughts as he gestured to a sobbing Mariana.
‘You’re the one who lives with her,’ John said gruffly.
‘You’re the one who’s in love with her,’ Guillermo shot back.
Well, he didn’t know what the fuck to say to that, but he did briefly regret emptying Mariana’s gun of bullets. He’d very much have liked to empty the thing into Guillermo’s face right now.
‘What the fuck did you just say?’ John asked.
‘You think I can’t hear you sneaking around in here?’ Guillermo shot back.
That was it. Prick was practically begging for it. John launched at Guillermo, one hand grabbing his T-shirt in a fist, the other reared back and ready to slam into the fucker’s meaty face.
How was Guillermo still smiling?
‘Hey!’ Mariana said sharply, her fist closing over the one John was about to eviscerate this motherfucker with, punch by bloody punch.
John turned his head to where Mariana stood. ‘Let. Go,’ he growled.
She didn’t.
‘He’s not our enemy,’ Mariana whispered, her long nails digging into his arm. ‘He’s our friend. And right now, we can use all the friends we can get.’
