exposed.”
“Don’t tell Remi until it’s time to meet. If she knows anything’s going on, she’ll leave Dallas’s because she’ll think she’s not doing her share.”
“Be careful, and put Richard in a safe spot until we’re ready for him.”
*
Dr. Ellie Eschete knocked before entering the exam room at the end of the hallway. In Emma’s chart were the results of the various blood and urine tests they’d run and Cain had insisted on waiting for.
“Well?” Cain asked when the door opened. She was sitting on a stool next to Emma, who was on the exam table. But she looked so nervous any thought of teasing her seemed like a bad idea.
“You don’t have the flu,” Ellie told Emma.
“Well?” Cain asked again.
“Honey,” Emma put her palm against Cain’s cheek, “calm down and she’ll tell us.”
“I’d plan to have another guest for Thanksgiving this year,” Ellie said, staying in the doorway to keep clear of Cain’s reaction. “It’s not a stomach bug, sweetie, it’s morning sickness. And if you’re lucky it won’t last as long as mine.”
“She’s pregnant?” Cain asked, sounding disoriented.
“She is, and I can even tell you when you got her that way,” Ellie said, holding the chart up to hide that she was laughing. “Congratulations, and don’t forget to make an appointment before you leave. See you then.”
Cain lifted Emma off the table as if she weighed nothing and let out a whoop so loud the guys in the waiting room could probably hear it. They kissed and cried again.
“I’m so happy it’s almost as if the time we were apart doesn’t exist anymore,” Emma said after she dressed. “That feeling is the best gift you could’ve given me.”
“It doesn’t exist because it’ll never happen again.” Cain held Emma’s hand as they walked out. “We need to celebrate tonight.”
Emma stopped to make her appointment and nodded. “I’ll get this. Go share our news with Lou and the others before holding it in kills you.”
Lou had his arms around Cain when Emma stepped out but let her go to give her a hug as well. “I’m happy for you, Emma.”
“Another one for you to watch over,” Emma said. “That’ll keep you all busy enough, so it’s time to finish what you started.”
“You heard the lady,” Merrick said. “Let’s get to it.”
*
“Senor Luis.” Oscar sat in the seat Carlos had put his hands on the back of and puffed his chest out as if preening. “Thank you for your invitation.” He accepted the espresso Carlos handed him. “My compadres are jealous they weren’t called.”
“It’s you I want, Oscar.” Rodolfo took a sip of his own coffee and tried to even his breathing. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No, Senor, the coffee’s fine. What would you like me to do for you?”
“I want you to tell me where Jesus is.” Rodolfo put his cup down and folded his hands in his lap. “I haven’t seen him, and he didn’t say where he was going.”
Oscar leaned forward to put his cup down as well but couldn’t keep it from rattling before it reached the table.
“Do you think he’s with my nephew?”
Oscar let out a nervous-sounding laugh as he turned around and looked at Carlos. “In Mexico? I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry, Oscar.” Rodolfo spoke in a soothing voice he’d used on Juan many times when he was a boy afraid of the dark after Gracelia had read him a bedtime story. After seeing the paper Cain had given him, he knew what Gracelia had been feeding him before he went to bed. “I already know where Jesus is.”
“Where? I’ve been worried.”
“That’s a waste of your time. Jesus is no one’s worry anymore.”
“Where is he?”
“If I know Cain Casey, he’s probably rotting in a dark hole somewhere.” He delivered the news in the same soothing voice. “Jesus was first on her list, but she wants me to hand over someone else.”
“She killed Jesus?”
“What you should be asking is who she wants next and why. Or do you already have an idea?”
Oscar tried to stand but Carlos put his hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to hand you over to be killed for taking out some guy that worked for Casey, but I do need something from you.”
“Whatever you want.” Oscar put his hands together like he was praying.
“Where’s Juan?” As Rodolfo asked, Carlos pressed a knife to his throat and grabbed a handful of hair.
“At the hotel at the end of Esplanade, and he got back the day Jesus killed Casey’s man. I didn’t want any part of that, but Jesus said you knew about it.” Oscar’s hands were bobbing from his chest to his lap as he cried. “Then Juan ordered me not to tell you.”
“Who’s with him?”
“That guy from the FBI. A few of our men come and go, but Juan seldom goes out.” As Oscar explained in a begging manner, he glanced back at Carlos occasionally.
