“Aria, you thought Dominic was El Santo?”
“Yes!” I create more of a delicate state of mind by sharing how I’ve stalked him.
“Escúchame, Ari’. You’re my girl, but I’m giving Antonio another ch—Where’s the remote? Turn this up. Turn it up.”
“What?” I reach down to grab the remote wedged at my side, staring at Roslyn’s teary gaze. I increase the volume as a full-figured Latina appears on the screen. She’s been missing for almost three months.
“Aye Dios, why can’t they find her? Why won’t they find El Santo?!”
I rub Roslyn’s shoulder.
“Angelica is Puerto Rican—met her first at my prima’s quinceañeras. She’s good people.”
“Wow, I saw a social media post on Angelica’s disappearance weeks ago. But they’re not sharing anything new. It sounds like bait to keep viewers’ attention, Ros, and then segue into El Santo. God, I’m tired of hearing the psycho’s name. These damn newscasters are itching for him to claim another life.”
At the mention of the serial killer, Roslyn frowns. “When you stalked Dominic, you asked me about the connection between Cubans and butterflies. Did you ever find out?”
“No,” I mutter. “I promised not to meddle, Ros. He was pissed about my attempts, said it wasn’t safe.”
“He has a point.” She waves her hand away. “But I’m done giving a fuck about what a man says. Women are the ones being attacked. Lemme grab my notebook.”
I cock a brow. Roslyn’s always kept two little black books since high school. One to document thoughts on the men who had crossed paths with her. The other was an extensive vendetta list, filled with details. Once Roslyn finds her journal, we search YouTube for any conspiracy theories and profiles on El Santo. My friend and I work late into the night, hardly making a dent into the hysteria surrounding the mysterious serial killer.
Chapter Fifty-Six
El Santo
The day Carlotta sped away from the salsa club, I searched relentlessly for her. I had tapped into satellite data from when her BMW sped through a yellow light before I could pursue her. My breach of the Miami traffic cameras ended fruitlessly when she’d taken a lesser road leading out of the city. Then I’d gathered the cellphone data of her familia, attempting to use others to flush her out.
She disappeared off the face of the planet and hadn’t used a single credit card since. A month ago, her BMW was tagged for repossession. Around the same time, I learned her last paying gig was a live-in. By the time I found her latest address, she had completed her assignment.
Today, LeAnna’s statement about a BMW stunned me. Why had Carlotta followed her? After leaving the pier, I completed the same thorough review of traffic surveillance, searching for a BMW fitting Carlotta’s description flee the parking lot.
Bingo. This time, Carlotta’s final destination was in my clutches. Now, under the cloak of darkness, I place my Glock into the waistband of my belt. I slide out of the driver seat, then quietly close the door to my ride. I peer down the narrow driveway. Tall trees obstruct the view of the townhomes on either side.
Soundlessly, I head toward the front door. The home’s rented by a fifty-seven-year-old named Benjamin Larson. No familia connection. Presumably, he’s a sugar daddy to Carlotta and the reason the DMV lacks an updated address for her.
Light descends from a bulb above the porch. I pop the collar to my bomber jacket as the door opens.
Larson, identifiable by his DMV photo, pushes his eyebrows together. “What do you want at this time of—?”
“Nothing.” I pull my Glock out of my waistband, tapping the trigger twice. The suppressor emits two muffled puffs. Placing my gloved hands beneath his shoulders, I ease his limp body to the ground inside of the entryway. I then close the door behind me.
“Benjamin . . . Benny?” Carlotta calls out as I start for the narrow stairwell. The fear twining her voice sends ripples of desire flooding through my bloodstream.
“Benny!” The inquiry grows frantic as I round the top step and enter the master suite. In the center of the king-sized bed, Carlotta cowers, clutching the duvet. The whites of her pupils expand as she stares down the barrel of my Glock. “What are you doing here, Dario?”
“You sent for me, did you not?”
“I-I know what you’ve been up to.”
“Hmmm, you’re tryna take the fun out of my forcing you to speak.” I wriggle my jaw. “What do you know, mami?”
“You’re sleeping with Dominic’s girlfriend.”
“What else?” I scoff, slightly disappointed Carlotta isn’t aware of the true me. The one the world hates to love.
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘what else?’ Dario, you sick pendejo! Does she even know who you are? I was at the gym. She called you Dominic, and I saw Dominic’s car at the salsa club that night. I was trying to work up the courage to tell them. Then I saw you.”
“You were so afraid of me.” I smile, picking up a bottle of her favorite perfume. “You had other chances to reach out to her or Dom.”
Jaw clenched, Carlotta growls, “I almost picked up the phone to call him, but who knows. Maybe you twins were playing a game? I’ve heard Dominic has an appetite for pretty women.”
“You included, sí?” I cock a brow.
She snaps. “I’m not that easy, pendejo.”
“Whatever you say, mami. You also saw her at the pier. Why not talk to her, then?”
“Someone was calling her name. I wasn’t going to get into it in front of someone else.” Carlotta gestures toward me. “Anyway, you can walk, you sick bastard!”
“You were the first person who should’ve known that, Carlotta. I had intentions of proposing to you—”
Carlotta shoves her curly hair out of her face to get a better look at me. “Aye Dios, propose?”
“Sí.”
“Not on your life! You went from quiet and broody, to polite, then to a total demon when I worked for you.”
“Because you—”
“Me?”
I snarl, “You cheating puta!”
“How did I cheat? Who the fuck did I cheat on, Dario?” She gestures between us. “We had a working relationship! Your hermano paid me—”
I level the gun at her. “You cheated with him?”
“No. Dominic paid me for hard, honest work! What do you mean propose? I-we—nothing happened between us, Dario. No matter how handsome you are, you are sick. No matter how attractive your eyes or amazing your bod is, it is not enough to stomach you. Put the gun down. Where is Benny?”
I stare at her. Even when stuck between a rock and a hard place, Carlotta is confused by how much power she truly wields. She has none.
“I said, where is Benny?”
“Dead. You will be too, soon enough.”
Her mouth launches wide, but my knife hurls into the wall, inches from her face. She starts for it, yanking at the lodged handle. Striding over, I nudge her nose with the silencer tip.
“Be smart, Carlotta.”
“St-stop it, Dario. I never manipulated you. All my patients received the same care and respect.”