“They know,” J.J. says in a subdued voice. “Chest wound, dude. Straight through the fucking heart from the looks of it. He was dead before they got him into the car.”
I look down at the man’s face. The inked design that covers his throat is familiar. I gave this man that tattoo, listening to him go on about how proud he was of his brother and how his relationship with his girlfriend was meant to be. Not long afterward, he tried to recruit me to join La Valla.
“Manny Reyes.”
That’s what Leo whispered earlier. Manny. I close my eyes, swipe a hand over my face, and let out a wretched groan. Leo’s brother is dead.
Behind me, one of the twins emits a sob, the pair clinging to each other. Then my gaze cuts to my brother leaning on the roof of the car. My jaw clenches involuntarily, and he flinches.
“I had nothing to do with this,” he says in a low voice. “You have my word. I didn’t even know they were there.” He darts a look over his shoulder at the twins, who are wiping their eyes and doing their best to put on brave faces. Poor fuckers. They shouldn’t have to be involved in this level of shit at their age. “What do you want to do?”
I’m about to retort that it isn’t my goddamn decision. He’s the one who got us into this mess. But I don’t know that. The twins don’t seem to register that J.J. had anything to do with it, and from the blood covering them both, they were in the thick of it, while J.J. doesn’t have so much as a drop on him.
I’ve always been the one my brothers deferred to when we were kids. Whenever Dad was deployed, they’d ask me for input before they’d ask Mom anything. If I said not to bother her with some inane request, they wouldn’t.
Like it or not, this is my mess now, and I know who I need to call, but I need to have one more conversation before I do.
Rounding the car again, I gesture to the twins. “You boys get cleaned up in the bathroom in my shop. Try not to get blood everywhere if you can. Then come upstairs and I’ll give you some clean clothes.” They jump into motion at my commanding tone, then J.J. follows me into the lift.
“I have to call Flores,” I tell my brother. “Can any of his men ID you?”
“It was dark, and the only men I dealt with were Amador’s once I was there. I was behind the van the whole time, brother. I didn’t even see who fired the first shot. Nobody looks at the delivery boy.” He gives me a wry smile that fades when I don’t find the humor in it. He sighs. “Gustavo was the only one who knew me. The guys I was about to hand off the guns to weren’t familiar, and we didn’t exactly exchange business cards.”
“Leo and Celeste didn’t see you then?”
“Like I said, I didn’t even know they were there.”
“Then as far as anyone’s concerned, you’re just here visiting. We were here all night working on my truck. No one needs to know that was you out there tonight.”
“You sure you need to call Flores?” His voice pitches higher than usual, betraying how terrifying a prospect that is. I can’t disagree with that sentiment at all.
“They’re his men. His daughter. He’ll figure it out one way or another, and I’d rather not be the asshole who kept secrets from him again.”
“Fair enough. But I don’t know if we should invite him down here when the evidence of my involvement is stacked in the corner of your fucking garage, man.”
“You just need to get rid of the van, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stash the money somewhere else too.”
“The van is handled. I’ve got a guy picking it up as we speak. It’ll be in pieces spread around a dozen different junkyards by morning. I’ll take care of the money now.”
He grabs his jacket and motorcycle helmet from the table just inside my apartment. “So much for Elle’s college fund,” he says as he steps back into the lift.
“I think she’d forgive us.” If there’s any chance of Amador coming after my brother for either the guns or the money, we need to make sure we’re prepared.
He offers me a salute, then closes the gate. The motor whirs as it takes him down, leaving me alone with two people I was sure had disappeared from my life for good.
14
Celeste
I should be rehearsing what I’m going to tell Papá when I call him, but my mind is caught in an endless loop, replaying the last hour. I barely register my shaking, blood-covered hands as I turn on the shower. Steam billows up and I step in, clothes and all. Everything I’m wearing has blood on it. I have to wash it off. Have to clean away the chaos of tonight because there is something at the heart of it all that I need to return to. Something Amador said. I just can’t remember now.
Closing my eyes, I lean under the water, hoping the scalding heat will sear away everything but what really matters. I have no idea how much time passes. All I know is I’m still staring blindly at the tiles, the blood swirling down the drain at my feet long gone, when there’s a knock at the door. Then the latch clicks open.
“Celeste, are you okay in there?”
I blink at the sound of Maddox’s voice, so familiar, yet so different than when we were young. It’s deeper, both rougher and gentler. I croak something that sounds like his name. Simply speaking those two syllables dissolves what little control I have over my despair, and it floods out of me in a torrent of sobs.
“Jesus,” he mutters and steps into the
