Dirty Angels

  Though the airport was closer to San Jose del Cabo than it was to San Lucas, that wasn’t my first stop. I wasn’t lying to Este when I said I had business that needed attending to. This time, I wasn’t going to give an order and watch someone else do it. I was going to get my hands very, very dirty.

  It was all for her.

  And it seemed the more I did for her, the filthier I got.

  Once in Cabo, I took a long stroll around the town. I hadn’t been here in a long time and was shocked to see how much it had changed. What was once a small marina was jam-packed with million-dollar yachts. Cruise ships hovered offshore while drunk teenagers on jet skis did circles in the azure surf. The beaches were filled with dance music and DJs announcing hourly body shots. The popular bars spouted Top 40 hits and celebrity-owned statuses.

  The town had no soul. Perhaps this was good for tourists—indeed it was excellent for Mexico’s economy, as were my drugs. But I could never live in a place that catered to the other half. Sure, the town was safe and the drug wars hadn’t littered the streets. But where was the real Mexico? Where was the grit beneath the glamour? Where were the proud flowers rising from the mud?

  I spent most of the day walking around, taking in everything. Despite all my misgivings toward the resort town, I still enjoyed myself. I was a tourist, just looking at all the sights. I was a man just looking for a bar, a place to get a drink.

  And then I found it. It was barely distinguishable from all the other tourist traps.

  Cabo Cocktails.

  I went in and sat at the bar. Even though it was a hot, sunny day and nearing three o’ clock, the bar was fairly empty. There was an old man nursing a beer at the other end of the bar and a couple in a booth. That was it.

  The bartender, a cute girl with blondish pixie hair, was quick to serve me.

  “A gin and tonic,” I told her. “Perfect for a day like today.” I gave her the smile that I knew could remove panties.

  She smiled back but I could tell I had no true effect on her. She was probably into women.

  “No problem,” she said, and got to work.

  “What’s your name?” I asked her while she fished out a can of tonic water.

  “Camila,” she said, an edge to her voice that told her not to bother asking for more than her name. But I wasn’t here for her.

  I waited until she served me my drink and told me the price, then I asked what I really wanted to know.

  “Camila, I’m wondering if you can help me,” I said, smiling again. “You see, there’s a girl who used to work here.”

  Her eyes widened. I wasn’t sure what tipped her off I was talking about Luisa; perhaps it was my sharp suit, or maybe she’d been on Camila’s mind. “And I’m very worried about her,” I went on. “Luisa is her name. Have you spoken to her recently?”

  She shook her head, her eyes darting around the bar. “No.”

  “But she did work here…”

  She nodded. She looked to the old man at the end of the bar. I waved at him dismissively. “Don’t worry about him. I just have a few questions and I’ll be out of your way.”

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m a friend,” I told her. “One of the few that she has these days. So you haven’t seen her around here then? She hasn’t called you?”

  “No. No, I haven’t seen or spoken to her since a few days before her wedding.”

  “To Salvador Reyes.”

  She swallowed. “Yes. Tell me, is she all right?”

  “I really hope so,” I said. I really doubt it.

  I knocked the rest of the drink back, feeling immediately refreshed and energized, and slid the money toward her. “One more thing.”

  “What?” she asked, a bit of impatience mixed in with her apprehension. I could tell she was a tough girl. No wonder Luisa and she had been friends.

  “Is your manager around? I’d like to ask him a few questions about her.”

  She nodded and jerked her head down the hall. “Bruno. He’s in his office, I think. He comes and goes.”

  I grinned at her. “Perfect.”

  I waited until she left to go tend to the couple in the booth, then I reached over behind the bar and picked up the knife she used to cut up the lime for my drink.

  I caught the man at the end of the bar watching me with mild interest that only tired old men have. I flashed the blade at him and smiled. He shrugged and went back to his beer.

  Making sure the blade was hidden from sight, I walked down the hall and paused outside the door that said Bruno Corchado on it. I gripped the knife in my hand, slightly sticky from the lime juice. It would have been better if I had my own, but airplane security wouldn’t have let me fly with it in my boot or in my carry-on. Bastards.

  I decided not to knock. I opened the door a crack and poked my head in.

  “Camila,” the man grunted in annoyance until he looked up and saw me. His annoyance deepened. He obviously had no idea who I was. Good.

  I shut the door behind me. “Bruno Corchado?”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  I shrugged. “I could be a customer coming in with a complaint. Do you talk to all your customers that way?”

  He glared at me. It was pitiful. “I can see you’re not. What do you want?”

  “I wanted to ask you a few questions about your past employee, Luisa Chavez.”

  He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you heard? She’s Luisa Reyes now.”

  “Is that right?”

  “The bitch married a drug lord,” he said. “Salvador Reyes.”

  I sucked in my breath. “I see. Well, good for her.”

  He picked his nose and then wiped it under the desk. My lips wrinkled in distaste.

  “She was money hungry,” he informed me, as if I was suddenly his friend. “She’d always come in here asking for money. Said it was for her parents. I bet it never was. But I don’t know what the hell she spent her money on, actually. Not men. Maybe she was into women, too.” He gave me a knowing look. “She was always such a prude. Doesn’t mean I didn’t get to have my fun with her, if you know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said, trying hard to keep my voice steady.

  Bruno picked up on something anyway. “Aw, shit,” he said, straightening himself in his chair. “You’re not like a relative of hers or something?”

  I cocked my head. “No. Though she does carry my name.”

  He frowned. I could almost hear the rust in his head as the cogs turned.

  “It’s on her back,” I told him. “Where I carved it.”

  Before any panic could fully register on Bruno’s face, I swiftly flung the blade out. I aimed for his upper neck, but it went straight in the hollow of his throat.

  Good enough.

  He gasped, wheezing for air, but the air would not come. His hands went for his throat, trying to pull the blade out as the blood began to run down his chest, but he was already too weak to grab the handle. He started to pitch over, falling for the floor. I was at his side before he could.

  I grabbed him by his greasy hair, holding him up by the roots.

  “No, no, no,” I said in a hush, making sure to stare him right in the eye. “This is not over.”

  I grabbed the knife and quickly yanked it out. Now the blood was gushing from the wound, drenching him in seconds. But as beautiful as the sight was, I had to be careful not to get any on my suit.

  With my grip firm in his hair, I leaned over to whisper in his ear, the blade poised at his bloody throat. “You know all those things you tried to do to Luisa,” I said. “Well, I did them. I did them again and again, and she loved it. Maybe because I’m one of the few men who has ever seen her for the queen that she is. All you see her for is her beauty. I see her for her, stained and everything.” I pressed the blade in harder. “And I see you for everything you are—a sleazy sack of shit.”

  I slowly, deliberately began to work the blade into his throat. He squirmed and kicke
d and fought against me, but in his current state, I was stronger. His will to live was pathetic, just like he was.

  Eventually he stopped kicking. I kept cutting. When I was finally done, I was covered in a sweat and only a few drops of blood on my shoes and pants. They’d come out with a good wash.

  I put his head into the garbage and pulled the bag out, making a knot at the end. I hoped it wouldn’t leak through. Then I looked around the office. It was a mess before I came in, piles of paper and empty beer bottles scattered around. The addition of blood and a headless corpse was barely noticeable.

  I pushed in the lock on the door and quickly exited, shutting the door behind me. I couldn’t see Camila around, which was a shame. If she had asked me what happened, I would have told her Bruno had a headache and didn’t want to be disturbed. It was such a good line.

  Soon I was out of the bar and strolling down the street again toward my rental car, bag of garbage hoisted over my shoulder. My first order of business was complete. Now it was on to the second.

  I had a feeling it was going to be a lot harder.

  “Excuse me,” I asked the aproned-woman who came to the door. “But do Raquel and Armand Chavez live here?”

  The women stared at me for a moment, slowly wiping her hands on her apron. I had left Bruno’s head in an ice cooler in the trunk, so there should have been nothing too unusual about a smartly-dressed man standing on the steps. “Yes, they live here. Who is asking?”

  I breathed out a sigh of quiet relief. So Salvador hadn’t killed them yet, which meant that Luisa was probably still alive.

  “I’m a friend of their daughter,” I told her, smiling as genuinely as possible. “Could you let Raquel know that I wish to speak with her? It’s rather important, I’m afraid.”

  Again she studied me. I had a feeling that Luisa personally hired this woman. She was bold and suspicious, just the kind of person she’d want to protect her parents. If my instincts were right, she probably had a gun very close by and knew how to use it.

  “What is your name?” she asked.

  “Javier,” I told her.

  “No last name?”

  “Garcia.”

  “All right, Javier Garcia,” she said. “I’ll go get Raquel. Please stay here.”

  The door shut in my face.

  I shrugged and took a seat on the bench beside a well-tended rose garden. I admired the flowers while I waited to hear the door open again.

  When it did, I swiveled in my seat to see a beautiful, elegant older woman standing there. Her focus was on me, even though I knew she was blind.

  “You wish to speak to me about Luisa?” she asked. I could see the caretaker hovering right behind her.

  I started to rise but Raquel quickly said, “You stay right where you are. Don’t get up. A friend of my daughter’s is a friend of mine.”

  I really hoped she hadn’t said that about Sal.

  “Your senses are outstanding, Mrs. Chavez,” I told her as she came down the two steps and on the path toward me, moving with grace and confidence, not needing any help at all.

  She smiled, and I saw Luisa in her face. It did funny things to my gut, rotting it with sadness.

  “Thank you,” she said, “but this is just life for me. It doesn’t need to be so hard.”

  “No,” I said, “I guess not with this. You have a lovely new home.” My eyes slid over to the housekeeper who was now leaning against the doorway, openly watching us. “And very watchful help.”

  “Ah, that’s just Penelope,” she said, waving her away. “Go back inside, Penelope, I’ll be fine. This man is not going to hurt me.”

  Penelope reluctantly did as she asked, but even so I saw the blinds move and knew she was spying through the window.

  “She’s very paranoid,” I noted, turning back to Raquel. “Is there a reason for that?”

  She gave me a small smile. “Yes.” But she said no more.

  I didn’t want to make Raquel paranoid, but I had to ask, “How come you’re so sure I’m not going to hurt you?”

  She sat down beside me and folded her hands in her lap. “You can read people’s faces, can’t you? I can read people’s souls.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, but her smile and confidence never wavered.

  “Oh, you’re serious,” I said, feeling slightly ashamed. I covered it up. “Well, I’ll have you know I have no soul to read.”

  Now it was her time to laugh. “Of course you do!” she exclaimed. “You’re here right now, aren’t you? Now, tell me why, and you’ll see that I’m right.”

  “Why I’m here?”

  She nodded gently.

  “Mrs. Chavez…”

  “Raquel.”

  “Raquel,” I started, “have you heard from your daughter recently?”

  She shook her head, her hands trembling just a bit. “No. Not for at least three weeks. Do you know if she’s okay?”

  I sucked on my lip for a moment. “Truthfully? I don’t know anything. But I don’t think she is. I think Luisa is in a lot of danger and so are you. Salvador Reyes makes bad men look good.”

  “I know that,” she said in quiet anger.

  “And I know that he’s no longer interested in keeping her as his wife…” I breathed in and out loudly. “And when that happens, she’s as good as dead to him.”

  She stared up at the sky blankly for a few moments before she said, “What do you need from us?”

  “I need to make sure you’re safe,” I said. “It’s all Luisa ever wanted. She cares more about you than she does her own life and her own happiness.” It’s actually infuriating, I wanted to add. But even I knew when to keep my mouth shut.

  “I know,” she said, barely audible. Her eyes were watering. I really hoped she didn’t start crying in front of me because I would have no idea what to do.

  “If you’re safe,” I told her, “both you and your husband, and away from here, away from where Salvador can find you, then I can go and get Luisa. I can bring her back.”

  “That’s impossible,” she said. “Salvador Reyes is the leader of the Sinaloa Cartel.”

  “He is. And it won’t be easy. I’ll most likely die in the process. But there is a way to do it. There’s always a way.”

  She seemed to take that in. She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand and nodded her head, as if agreeing to an internal conversation.

  “Why are you doing this?” she eventually asked. “What is Luisa to you?”

  “She’s a friend.” It wasn’t quite a lie.

  “You’re in love with her,” she stated, a wide smile on her face.

  I shot her a look she could not see. “I care about her very much,” I corrected her.

  “Well,” she said, not put off, “if that’s good enough for you, that’s good enough for me.”

  “Then you’ll let me help you,” I said cautiously, feeling like this had gone over easier than expected. I thought there would be a lot of protesting, a lot of yelling, a lot of doors slammed in my face or guns held to my head.

  “Of course I will,” she said. “And Armand will too.”

  “And you’re trusting me, just like that?”

  “Yes. I am. I told you. My senses are sharp, and you, my boy, have a very good soul, even if you choose to believe otherwise.”

  “I may not be as good as you think.”

  She smiled and waved at me. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. I can smell the blood on you, after all.”

  I looked down at my pants, at the few dark spots that stood out against the navy blue. “I had some business to take care of,” I tried to explain.

  “I’m sure you did.” I wondered how much exactly this woman thought she knew about me. It was fascinating and troubling all at once. But as long as she was willing to help herself and her daughter, I couldn’t care.

  “Will Penelope be an issue?” I asked, eying the house again.

  “You’re not shooting her,” Raquel told me, “if that’s what you’re thinking.?
??

  I frowned. She seemed to have a pretty good handle on me after all. “I wasn’t,” I lied. “But will you be needing her in the future, or will someone else do? I can hire you anyone you want on the other side, but it’s too risky to bring Penelope along with us. She’s on the cartel’s payroll, after all.”

  “Anyone kind will do,” she said. “What do you mean the other side?”

  “I can get you and your husband on a private ship leaving from San Jose’s marina in thirty minutes. You’ll go straight to Puerto Vallarta. There, I’ll have someone meet you and help you get settled. You can trust her.”

  “Who is she?”

  “My sister, Alana. She owes me more than a few favors.” At least, in my mind she did.

  “All right,” Raquel said. “I trust you.”

  I smiled. “Normally you shouldn’t, but in this case, I’m glad you do.”

  I helped her up, even though she didn’t need it. Just before I was about to lead her to the door, she reached out and touched my face. She touched my forehead, my nose, my lips, my jaw, feeling delicately at each one.

  “You’re a striking man, I bet,” she finally mused, looking satisfied. “All these parts that shouldn’t work together but do.”

  I raised my brows and she gently took her hand away. “You could just call me handsome. Everyone else does.”

  Once we were back in the house, I told her to go get Armand and pack up everything important. Penelope started asking questions, panicking. I knew she’d either shoot me or stop them, so I stopped her before she could. It was just a sleeper hold of sorts, something to knock her out long enough until Luisa’s parents were safe and on their way to Puerto Vallarta.

  I quickly slid the body into the kitchen, making sure she wasn’t visible to anyone passing by, and left her a great wad of American hundred dollar bills, knowing that it was worth more than she’d get in a few month’s pay. It might buy her silence—there was no way Penelope wanted to own up to being the one who let Luisa’s parents escape. It also bought Raquel peace of mind.

  Armand was a bit more cantankerous than I thought, and even though he drifted in and out of confusion, he was willing to go wherever Raquel was telling him. Soon I was driving them to the docks and helping them onto a fishing boat that one of my men operated. It paid to have my workers everywhere.