He raised his head and looked her in the eye, "I meant what I said about us not seeing other people. You're pulling me into you every time I see you. Can you live the life of a cartel woman? Can you deal with a jealous man? When things escalate, can you hang on tight, knowing there are ebbs and flows? Can you feel safe in the eye of the storm?"
"You're throwing a lot at me, Mano. I don't know. I've never had to think about something like that. It's serious. Going into the mountains where the cocoa leaves are farmed was intense. In my life, words like intense, escalate, and fight or flight are commonplace."
"You need to come to grips. There's always forced marriage. You can't testify against your husband."
Page laughed, "You can't be serious. Nobody forces a woman to marry them—unless they're crazy."
"The Ramirez brothers did."
"Point taken, they're both crazy."
"So am I when it comes to you, so get a fucking grip. Like it or not, this is your new life."
"You are crazy." It was spoken in a matter-of-fact tone—one of a woman resigned to her plight.
"I'm not the only one in this headspace, right now. Antonio Wayne feels like whoever is killing fixers is on the inside. The man has a radar for potential trouble, so I'm inclined to believe him. We actually got a name this time: El Loco."
"That's one hell of a name. Not very reassuring. I've never heard of the guy. Why would he be killing fixers if he's cartel?"
"I don't know. What I do know is you have close ties to fixers. I don't want this bastard coming after you."
"I'm nobody. Why would he care about me?"
"Because you're the one telling cartel secrets, he doesn't want the public to know."
"I'll be careful."
"I'll be keeping a close eye on you."
"As if…you're not already doing that."
"Sex is one thing. Protecting your life takes it to a whole new level."
"Well, when you put it like that, I have to agree."
The thought of a hired killer having his sights on her scared the shit out of her. She wasn't expecting things to happen so fast. She snuggled in closer to Mano who was laid beside her now. He wrapped an arm around her. He knew she was scared. This was new to her. She'd faced the dangers of being overseas, but being hunted on her own turf was different. Now she'd be looking over her shoulder for a stranger she couldn't identify. If she passed him on the street, she wouldn't know who he was. Her life would never be the same. Suddenly she was grateful to have a killer sharing her bed.
Chapter Twenty One
The bartender wiped up a spill and filled El Loco’s shot glass with whiskey even though he hadn’t asked. He usually drank tequila, but tonight he was in a whiskey mood. Whether that was good or bad…remained to be seen.
“Haven’t seen you around. Are you new in town?” The bartender cocked his body against the sink in front of him, ready to have a friendly conversation.
“No,” El Loco lied, not wanting to reveal specifics about himself.
“Are you looking for work?” His curiosity had been piqued to probe the stranger in front of him.
“No, this is just the first time I’ve been in your fine establishment,” he said, an attempt to change the conversation.
The bartender’s chest poked out in pride just a little. “Yeah, this place was a dump when I first bought it. My wife and I worked hard to build the business up. She’s been dead two years. God rest her soul. Thought it was gonna kill me too when she died, but somehow, I made it through. I think having this bar to come to everyday helped me—somethin’ to take my mind off the grief of losing her. Sometimes work is the best thing for a man to forget about his troubles—idle hands and all that. Some women make an imprint on our lives that’s permanent. My wife sure made one on me. She was one of a kind, that’s for sure.”
“Sounds like you’ve been there,” El Loco said, for lack of knowing what else to.
“I’m there now,” El Loco said to himself under his breath. He didn’t care about the bartender’s baffled expression. Loco looked in the mirror that gave him a visual through the large glass window behind him; exiting the twenty-four-hour grocery store, he saw what he’d been waiting for. He pushed his stool away and laid a twenty on the counter. It was time to go to work.
****
Page could feel her hackles rise as the soft breeze of the early morning air blew over her neck. The air was full of paranoia, like a mist of fog that hid some unknown danger. She shifted the milk and bread she was carrying and looked over her shoulder. She almost wished Mano hadn’t warned her of potential danger. Maybe she should have gotten him up to come with her. He’d been sleeping so sound she didn’t want to disturb him. Now she felt like she should have at least woken Judy. She didn’t want to bother anyone. There was a stubborn part of her that didn’t like the situation she’d been put in. Feelings of pride and independence could fuck with any woman’s head.
One more glance around the parking lot as she pushed the button to open and then start her SUV. It was times like this she was grateful for hands free technology. When she got safely into her vehicle, she locked the doors before they had a chance to automatically lock. Her head was on a swivel as she looked around for potential danger. She couldn’t live on lockdown. It wasn’t in her nature.
She’d sneaked out after not being able to sleep. She needed milk and bread, and any excuse to burn off the nervous energy she was feeling was a good enough reason for a very early drive. She backed out of the parking lot when she was sure no one was following her.
The parking lot was empty, but El Loco had been smart enough to park in one across the street. The girl had looked like she knew someone was following her; perhaps he wasn’t the only stalker she had.
She eased onto the road and turned the volume to the music up. She climbed the steep hill that would take her towards home. A guardrail was the only thing preventing her from a fifty-foot drop. She’d always hated this road when it was raining or snowing. She remembered a night she had been driving, and sheets of rain prevented her from being able to see. It was a feeling of being trapped with nowhere to pull over and no end in sight from the torrential downpour. The lights from a truck coming up behind her were hitting her rearview mirror and blinding her. She shifted the mirror up. Whoever was driving the monstrosity of a truck was right on her ass. She pushed the button on the steering wheel to call Mano.
“I think I’ve got trouble.” She gave him her location and hoped like hell this guy didn’t run her off the road.
“I’m out the door, babe. Why the hell did you go out so late without me?”
She could hear the irritation in his voice. She wished he would yell and throw something; a glass vase shattering against the wall would at least be a clue to his mood—how he was going to react.
“It’s too late to worry about it now. Sonofabitch! He just ran into the back of my baby.” Now: She was pissed.
He knew her baby was her SUV.
“Do not pull over! I’m almost there. This guy may be using this as a ruse to kidnap you.” It was the first time the reality of being in the Colombian cartel hit her. Dating a gangster puts a target on your back with enemy organizations. Hearing it was one thing, experiencing it made it real.