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‘You’re not stupid,’ I said.
One corner of his mouth tugged up for a second, and then it was gone again. ‘No. I’m not. You know who was stupid?’
I wasn’t sure I liked where he was going with this. ‘Who?’ I asked reluctantly.
‘That damn DEA agent,’ he said, and in that moment, all doubt was gone. Guillermo knew I’d killed Murphy. He knew.
‘Guillermo,’ I whispered.
‘You move the money, too?’ he cut in.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, my arms heavy and tired from pointing the gun at him for so long. I wondered how long I could aim it at him before I’d have to lower it. How longbefore one of the employees at Budget Funerals came out for a cigarette break and found me bailing up a biker at gunpoint in their parking lot.
‘You trust me?’ Guillermo asked, his eyes wild as he fixed them on me. It was an excellent question. Did I trust him? Did I trust anyone?
‘I killed Murphy,’ I said, the gun getting warm in my sweaty hand. ‘I killed his girlfriend, too.’
‘I knew it,’ Guillermo muttered, shaking his head. ‘Of course it was you. Look at you. Waving a gun around. Creeping around with the prez like I’m stupid. Of course I know. You’ve changed, Ana. You finally grew some fuckingcajones.’ He grabbed his crotch for effect. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say your balls are made of brass,cholita.’
That saying – my blood ran cold – it’s such a cliche. But I swear, in that moment, I felt all of the thick red blood in my veins turn into freezing sludge and sharp icicles that cut me from the inside.
I sagged against the car, all the fight draining out of me. I wanted to cry.Creeping around with the prez. Jesus Christ. It was all going to come undone.
‘You love him?’ Guillermo asked.
‘Who, Murphy?’ I asked incredulously.
Guillermo rolled his eyes. ‘John. You love John.’ It was a statement more than a question. It was true.
Yes. A thousand million times, yes.
‘Shut up!’ I said, launching myself at him.
He stepped back, my show of brute force apparently unperturbing to him, and raked his eyes up and down me. I imagined how crazy I must have looked. Messy hair, cheeksraw from crying and waving a loaded gun around like I was some kind of gangster.
‘You got it bad for him, don’t you?’
Was I really that easy to read?
‘You don’t know anything,’ I protested. The gun was so fucking heavy.
‘Dornan will find out, you know,’ Guillermo said.
‘Shut up!’ I replied. ‘I will fucking shoot you, Guillermo!’
I saw the impatience on his face. I felt the trepidation. Any minute now, somebody was going to see us: one woman, holding a gun at one man, as they stood beside one car that housed the body of one infant who’d been inexplicably caught up in a war that was fought with blood and innocents.
‘You’re not gonna shoot me,’ Guillermo said, the self-assured prick that he was.
‘Give me this one thing,’ I urged.
He glared at me. Neither of us spoke for several long, excruciating moments. Guillermo sighed audibly.
‘Put that fucking thing away,’ he said finally. ‘Don’t talk. Don’t tell them your name.Definitelydon’t tell them your name.’
I nodded.
‘Wait here.’
