“No, I’m too keyed up.”
“Then I’ll make you some chamomile tea. It’ll help calm your nerves.” He took a second to look at her, “I don’t want you feeling guilty about this. Don’t let this guy get in your head. You’re just giving him power if you do.” He got up and walked towards the kitchen. He grabbed her favorite mug that said something about not pissing her off, or she’d put you in a book and kill you off. He had seen it in a bookstore and thought it was funny, so he bought it for her. The microwave dinged, and he grabbed the hot water and put a teabag in it. He thought about everything going on as he lifted the tea bag up and down so it would seep quicker. He was worried about Page, but he needed to be strong, so she didn’t become fearful. Scared people made mistakes, and that’s precisely what this bastard wanted. Mano knew the psychological games all too well, he’d used them in his line of work, and the authorities would also if they got wind of what was going on.
He walked back into the living room, making sure he had a smile on his face. He sat down and handed her the tea.
“My favorite mug—it sounds like something I’d do.”
“That’s why I bought it for you. It fit you so well.” He kissed her cheek.
“I don’t think I feel guilty. I just keep trying to understand why this guy is so fixated on us. I can’t wrap my brain around it.” She took a sip of the tea and let the warmth soothe her. “I know he was here. I don’t leave my deadbolt undone, and that Kleenex box on my desk has been moved.”
“He moved things on purpose. It’s a mindfuck they teach us when they’re training us to be in the cartel. It’s like gaslighting somebody; making them think they’re crazy. There will be more moved around, and nothing was stolen; unless he took a trophy.”
“A trophy?”
“Yes. Something to remind him of you—something intimate. Let’s look and see what he moved around and what’s missing. I’m sure he tried to get on the computer and couldn’t because its password protected.”
Page reluctantly got up and began looking around. She could see her desk had been tampered with but not anything in the living room or kitchen.
“The bedroom will be where he went for something intimate. If that’s the case, he’s developed a fixation for you. That’s going to complicate things.”
“Great. I’ve attracted another stalker. I’d laugh, but this is so not funny. Judy’s right, I attract trouble.”
Mano laughed, “I can’t disagree with that, Page.” He grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eye, “I ‘ll protect you. I promise I’ll get you out of this. This is what I do, Page—it’s what I specialize in. The same way he’s been trained, I have too. This is an old enemy of mine. I met him when I was a kid. I remember having a bad feeling about him. I never thought I’d be dealing with him again.”
“Who is he?” Page backed up, looking at Mano like she couldn’t believe all this was happening. Maybe the guy was after Mano and just saw her as a way to get to him. Regardless of how or why she was in danger.
Mano scrubbed his hands over his face; resigned to tell her everything, so she wasn’t blindsided. “El Loco came to our farm when I was a kid. My father is in the cartel; he grows poppies and manufactures heroin for the Colombian cartel. You’ve written the stories about poverty—we were no different. We got involved in the drug trade to survive.”
She could tell he was ashamed to tell her his family sold drugs. There was no judgment from her, though. She’d spent her life telling these people’s stories and their battles with the government. Now she loved a man who had grown up in what she’d been writing about. She placed her palm on his chest over his heart, and he knew he had nothing to be ashamed of with her.
She gets it.
Mano shook his head and continued telling his story. Anyway…I remember the day they came in on a private plane. I was so excited. I had dreams of owning my own plane one day. When the Sicarios got off the plane, one of them was El Loco. I felt like a concrete brick settled in my stomach when I first saw him. Even as a kid, I didn’t like him. It’s weird, but I felt like he was going to kill us.”
“Who was with him?”
“Bodyguards and another Sicario they call Cupid.” Mano smiled, “Cupid was cool, I knew him, but looking at El Loco was like looking in the face of death. I’ve never trusted him, and now I know why. Now c’mon and let’s see what he took—it’ll give me an idea what I’m dealing with.”
They held hands walking into the bedroom as if it would give them the courage, they needed to face a madman. Page had faced danger outside of the country, and now it was on her doorstep. The intrusion made her angry. It was one thing to be in danger on someone else’s turf, but having it come to your front door—your house; it made her feel defiled.
“He left my jewelry box open.”
“See if he took any keys.” Mano knew she collected keys, and it would be hard for an outsider to know which ones were important. He did know to look for the safety deposit box key. He had given her money in case something happened to him. You weren’t supposed to keep money in them, but what the tellers didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He was already making sure he took care of her. He’d been stalking her so long that he’d cared about her long before she knew he even existed.
“He didn’t take any.”
“He’s developed a fixation on you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if this was about money, he would have taken that bank box key. Look in your panty drawer.” Fucking pervert. I’ll kill him.
“Oh, God, I hope not. That’s some sick shit, Mano.”
“Yeah, it is. It’s going to make my job harder—easier to kill him, but harder nonetheless.”
He looked over her shoulder as she searched through the lingerie. “Your favorite ones are missing.”
She turned around, looking at him with real fear in her eyes. “How would he know those were your favorite, Mano?”
“He didn’t know. He’s a guy. He was drawn to the innocence of them just like I was. Don’t let this guy get in your head.”
“You’ve told me that already.”
“And I’ll keep telling you. It’s what he’s trying to do. He wants your mind to stay on him.” He reached out and gently rubbed her jawline with the pad of his thumb. “I want your mind on me, babe.”
He walked over and pulled the curtain back to see if the cops were gone. The police were, but CSI was still there. It would be safe to start questioning neighbors. “It’s time to start questioning neighbors. I’m not sure how much we’ll find out, but one clue could break this case open.”
“You sound like a cop,” she laughed. It felt good to laugh—anything to get her mind off the intensity of a man being out to get her. Let’s do this. Don’t freak my neighbors out. They’re senior citizens, so they’ll be more than willing to talk. I don’t want them upset. It could affect their health. ‘Fuckin’ stress will kill ya.’” she said under her breath.”