was as much of an escape as she was willing to agree to.
As she brought her glass up, one of Vincent Carlotti’s men joined her and put his beer down. Almost everyone in the room was singing the refrain from “American Pie” when he asked her to go outside to the patio.
“The boss is keeping an eye on Vinny and his business,” the guy said as a start.
“So are Cain and Remi. Does he have a problem with something?” Muriel leaned against the brick wall at the back of the open space.
“More like he wanted to give you guys a heads-up. Vincent’s been talking to Hector Delarosa.”
“The Columbian Hector Delarosa?” Muriel asked.
“That’s the one. He called tonight so Mr. Carlotti would be watching for a particular plane soon.”
Muriel put her hand up to keep the waitress away. “Before you go on, tell me why you’re not talking to Cain.”
“I did. Cain told me where I could probably find you. You can call her if you want, but she said for you to take care of it.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. The guy standing before her represented Cain’s way of giving her what she’d asked for. If she said no, that would’ve been acceptable too. Her role had been defined for so long, not only with her family but with the others as well, that no one would’ve thought less of her for keeping to her place.
“That’s okay. Just tell me,” Muriel said.
“When people like Hector need something taken care of, especially in the States, they use one guy. Hector said his name is Jorge Cristo, and according to Hector, he’s a killing machine.”
“When’s he get here?” Muriel asked. The couple sitting closest to them left and Muriel sat down.
“That’s the easy part—this Friday, AeroMexico’s last flight is coming in from Mexico City.” He cocked his bottle back and drained the last of his drink. “What we need to figure out before then is who his target is and who hired him.”
“That we do, since it sounds like he sure as hell isn’t coming for the seafood. Tell Vincent thanks for the information.” The guy stood up and shook hands with her. “Did Delarosa describe him?”
“Mr. Cristo likes to fly AeroMexico out of Mexico City because usually only about ten Americans are on the flight.”
Muriel put her hands up and shrugged. “And?”
“The rest of the deplaning passengers are Mexican and other South Americans. It’s a good way to blend in.”
“I take it Hector didn’t give him up completely.”
“Hector sees potential in dealing with Vinny because of his father and his friends, but no, he didn’t give us what you’re asking. Down the line he might have a problem or two he needs solved. He burns Jorge, and who’s he going to call to fix it?”
“Nothing’s ever easy, is it?”
Chapter Thirty
The sun was creeping along the floor, slowly making its way toward the sofa where Dallas had been lying since the night before. She didn’t feel like this very often any more, because she refused to let things she couldn’t change drag her down, but on mornings like this she didn’t have the strength to try.
Her tears started again, but she was so exhausted she didn’t move to wipe them away. When the phone rang she ignored that as well until the machine picked up in the kitchen. She’d never recorded her own message so a robotic-sounding voice asked the caller to leave their name and number.
The sound of Kristen’s voice got her on her feet and to the phone before her little sister hung up. “Hey, just wait for the stupid thing to click off,” she said.
“Out late? You usually pick up by the second ring.”
Kristen always sounded light, as if her essence was sunlight. They’d started in a horrible place, but Dallas had taken the weight of that darkness so Kristen’s memories would be easier to bear. She was the one person who knew all of Dallas’s secrets and still loved her without reservations.
“I was sleeping in.” Dallas headed for the kitchen and the coffee pot. “We went out last night, but my date was a perfect gentlewoman and deposited me on my doorstep at a decent hour.”
“She didn’t stay for coffee?”
Dallas heard people shouting and having a good time in the background, so she figured Kristen was sitting outside somewhere on campus. “She had a busy morning, she said.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Dallas said quietly. She pinched the bridge of her nose and placed the coffee pot under the faucet to fill it. “Nothing’s wrong,” she repeated when Kristen stayed quiet.
“Are you finished hiding your feelings? I recognize that tone. Something’s wrong, and it’ll be easier in the long run if you go ahead and tell me what it is.”
“I’m disappointed Remi didn’t stay.”
“And?” Kristen prompted.
