“Rough night?”
“Yeah, my first shift.” I went on to explain what happened, conveniently leaving out Javier till the end.
“Um,” I started, peering down absently at my scarred leg, the pink and red welts looking extra ugly in the harsh daylight. “And so the guy at the end who beat up the other guy, well…that was my mark.”
Silence filled the air. I could hear a cow mooing somewhere on his property.
“Gus?”
“Your mark? I don’t understand.”
“I met my mark. The man closest to Travis. Or at least I think he is. He at least works for him. We’re going out on a date tonight.”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Javier Bernal,” I told him, his name sounding thick on my tongue.
“Mexican?”
“Yeah, so?” I was feeling slightly defensive over his disapproving tone of voice.
“Ellie…I don’t know what to say, this is not sitting well with me.”
“Well you knew what I was coming here to do.”
“Yeah, but those Mexicans—”
“Well aren’t you being a little racist!”
“Ellie,” he barked, and I clamped my mouth shut. “This isn’t being racist. My ex-wife was Mexican. I don’t really care. But if he’s Mexican, he’s probably directly linked to the cartel.”
“Again, so? We know that Travis is the head of one of them.”
“He’s the head of an off-shoot cartel. They control the south. This Javier might have ties to another, the ones in Mexico, where they get their supplies. The Loz Zetas, Sinaloa. This is much more dangerous. You’ve heard of the beheadings on the news. These people mean serious business.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m aware of that. Hello, you don’t think what Travis did to me wasn’t serious business? And just because he happens to be Mexican…”
“You better watch yourself.”
“I am. And I will. And you know what, yeah maybe he has some ties to a cartel somewhere, or maybe it’s just Travis’s. But he’s only twenty-three. How much damage can a twenty-three year old do?”
The words hung in the air. I felt like I was tempting fate.
***
The twenty-three year old showed up at my apartment in his GTO, calling my cell and letting me know he was downstairs. I was relieved that he didn’t ask to come up and see the place. I had nothing to show for Eden White at the moment, unless he wanted to browse my internet history which consisted of Mexican drug cartels and more p**n .
The p**n didn’t help me at all. All it did was turn me on, and when I was turned on it seemed my brain cells went out the window. I’d wanted some pointers in seduction but it was pretty obvious I didn’t have to do anything to seduce Javier; now it was just overkill that made me squirm against the seam of my jeans.
Even so, I came prepared. I had a couple of condoms in my purse and I’ll also admit I watched a YouTube video of how to put one on. It scared the shit out of me and I decided that though I’d push the condom usage if it came to that point, he could handle the mechanics of it all himself.
The air was muggy despite the clear sunshine and I was glad I swapped my usual jeans for a pair of A-line linen pants. I wore a coral-colored tube top that showed off my tanned shoulders and matched my new lip gloss. Spending your teen years in jeans and boots meant I had turned into somewhat of a tomboy, so it felt a bit weird to get dolled up for someone. Weird, but surprisingly good, like a taste of a new dish you could see yourself getting addicted to.
I spied his car by the road and he immediately got out when he saw me. He was just wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans; on his feet were dark boat shoes. It was a casual look that still managed to look elegant on him. Perhaps it was the way he walked, effortlessly, like a stalking tiger. It was the first time I got a good look at his body too and was surprised at how muscular he was. His forearms were pleasantly large, his chest toned, the rest of him very trim and lean. He looked athletic and fast, which shouldn’t have surprised me after what happened last night.
“Hello, angel,” he said with a grin, his arms spread wide for an embrace. This was the drug cartel leader? I didn’t think so.
I laughed nervously and he swept me into his arms, holding me close to him. That familiar smell drifted over me, bringing back the feeling of his lips at my ear. Today though, he didn’t kiss my cheek but still held on to my hand.
“You brought out the sunshine, I’m glad,” he said, looking me up and down. His lilting accent was creating pleasure waves down my back. “Come on.” He gave my hand a tight squeeze. Even more pleasure waves formed. “We should enjoy the weather while we can.”
We got into his car and I was immediately in love with it.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, running my hands over the smooth dash, marveling at how well-maintained it looked despite its age, the perfect blend of polished chrome and retro fittings.
“It has a name,” he said, buckling himself in. He caught my eyes and explained. “Jose. I brought him all the way from Mexico.”
I kept smiling back at him, although my brain was already going back over what Gus had said and what I had learned about cartels on the internet. I hoped the wheels in my head had been hidden from him, but the man was so damned perceptive.
“What, you didn’t know I was from Mexico?” he asked, still smiling, though he slipped on a pair of dark shades that covered up his all-seeing eyes. We turned onto the road and headed toward the highway. The windows were all rolled down, messing up our hair, which made me suspect the air conditioner wasn’t working.
“No, I figured you were from Mexico,” I said. “I just thought it was cute that you named your car.”
He laughed. “Cute? Maybe. Dorky? Yes. But what can I say, I’m sentimental. This old machine has been with me longer than anyone I know.”
I wanted to know how that could be, considering he would have only been of driving age for about eight years or so, but I didn’t press it. I wanted information from him, but I wanted it slowly.
“Well, it’s one hell of a sexy car. I love vintage models,” I said.
He tilted his head down and eyed me over his glasses. “Were you ever a model?”
I let out a loud and rather awkward guffaw. I immediately covered up my mouth, shooting him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, no.”