Caught in the Act (14 page)

Fuck, fuck,
fuck
!

Ian held up his hands and looked straight down at the
table, afraid to make any move that might set Chuy off. “Okay, man, just chill out!” There was a short straw next to the lines. Reaching slowly, he picked it up.

If this was uncut heroin, he’d be dead before it hit the back of his throat.

Leaning over the surface of the table, he plugged one nostril and lifted the tooter to the other, inhaling deeply. The line disappeared up his nose, flooding his mouth with an acrid taste. He didn’t have a cardiac arrest. Tossing the straw aside, he settled back against the couch, his eyes watering, nasal passages burning.

“How’s it taste?” Chuy asked.

“Pretty good,” Ian lied, sniffling. “You gonna sell me some now?”

Chuy relaxed, putting his piece away. Armando exited the office, claiming he had to run an errand, and they completed the exchange with little fanfare, Chuy accepting money for drugs. Ian put the balloon in his pocket, already feeling woozy. He had about five minutes before it kicked in completely.

As luck would have it, another customer showed up as Ian was leaving. He didn’t make eye contact with the tattooed gang member on his way out. It was bad form to stare, and he needed to concentrate on walking.

Ian had to get as far away from Chuy’s apartments as possible. He was in danger of breaking cover. A seasoned addict wouldn’t react strongly to a single line of heroin unless it was 100 percent pure, and this stuff wasn’t. If they saw him fall on his face, they’d know he wasn’t the junkie he appeared to be.

Instead of crossing the courtyard, which looked sun-bright and difficult to navigate, he took a left, lumbering
down the shaded walkway. His legs felt rubbery, his knees ready to buckle. He knew he wasn’t going to make it back to base. Maybe he could stagger through the parking lot and pass out behind a dumpster.

He tried to walk normally, but his feet refused to cooperate. A pair of vending machines swam into his field of vision, so he focused on moving toward them. It was like climbing Mount Everest. Or wading through molasses.

At last he was standing in front of the soda machine, mesmerized by the shiny façade and whirring refrigerator engine. He knew why people liked opiates; he’d never felt so peaceful. This vending machine was fascinating. He contemplated the vibrant design and perfect colors, wallowing in visual nirvana.

In the corner of his mind, he understood that lingering here was dangerous. Armando might be close by, and he had eyes like a hawk.

Get out of sight, Ian.
Get out of sight
.

He tore his gaze away from the vending machine, searching for an escape. There was a small, nondescript door on his right. Utility closet? He glanced back at Chuy’s apartments and saw nothing but a gray blur.

Lurching forward, he grabbed the doorknob. Turned it. Open.

Victorious, he stumbled inside and closed the door behind him, fumbling for the lock. Either there wasn’t one or his clumsy hands couldn’t find it. The closet smelled like pine soap. He reached out for a mop handle, but it wouldn’t hold him upright.

He fell down, into darkness.

* * *

Kari couldn’t believe Adam let her go.

Had there been a mix-up at Saltillo Mundo? Maybe the shipment hadn’t come in, or they hadn’t loaded it into her van. She didn’t understand what had happened. If she’d been smuggling illegal cargo, surely the inspectors would have detected it.

Why hadn’t she been charged and arrested?

Kari drove to downtown San Diego in a daze, too drained to make sense of the situation. She didn’t fool herself into thinking it was over. She’d made it across the border by some kind of miracle, but she could still get caught.

Investigators could be following her, hoping for a bigger bust.

No one was there to meet her at Zócalo. She parked behind the store, her pulse racing. Afraid she’d be tackled by law enforcement the instant she left the vehicle, she stayed inside for a few moments, searching her surroundings.

Everything looked normal.

A delivery truck passed by, carrying stacks of five-gallon water containers. The liquid sloshed back and forth. Kari was struck by warring discomforts: a full bladder and intense thirst. She squirmed in her seat, glancing in the rearview mirror.

Across the parking lot, a man opened a can of soda and took a long drink. Kari couldn’t take it anymore. She rolled up the windows and leapt out of the van, locking it quickly before she rushed to the back door. There were no shouted threats, no weapons drawn. Her eyes darted around the parking lot as she disengaged the alarm. Inside Zócalo, she used the bathroom and drank
straight from the sink, splashing cool water on her flushed cheeks. As she straightened, she winced at her reflection. She looked like a crazy person. Mascara smudged, eyes wild. Her tank top was damp with sweat.

“Ugh,” she said, yanking it off. After a quick toilette with paper towels, she put on the extra shirt she kept under the counter.

A man was waiting for her when she walked out.

Kari let out a muted scream, flattening her back against the wall. It was Chuy’s partner, the quiet crew member with the no-frills face.

“Good afternoon,” he said, standing still in the hallway. His accent wasn’t as pronounced as Maria’s, or as pleasing to the ear. With the light behind him, he was a dark outline, almost unrecognizable. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes,” she said, her heart pounding. “Where’s my sister?”

“She will be delivered to you, as planned.”

“When?”

“When you give us the packages.”

“They’re in the back of my van.”

“Those are just tiles.”

Her stomach felt queasy. “I don’t understand.”

“It was a dry run,” he explained slowly, as if speaking to a child.

A dry run. She’d almost gone insane for nothing. Even worse, she had to repeat the experience. “No,” she whispered. “That’s impossible.”

The man remained silent.

“I can’t do it again!”

“Would you like to pay the debt another way?”

Kari slid down the wall, shaken. She couldn’t come up with that kind of money. Selling her assets would only cover a fraction of the amount.

“We will give you more instructions before the real pickup.”

“I want to see my sister.”

“After the delivery.”

“You’re an evil man,” she said, her voice breaking. “How do you live with yourself?”

He turned his head to the side, contemplative. In profile, he was only slightly less intimidating. “I’m sorry you are upset.”

“Fuck you!”

With a polite nod, he left her alone.

Kari couldn’t have guessed how long she sat there, her knees drawn up to her chest. Finally she got up and went to the mini-fridge, staring at the contents blankly. Something gnawed at her belly, but it didn’t feel like hunger. She grabbed a yogurt smoothie and drank from the container, hoping to fill her emptiness.

A knock at the back door alerted her that she had another visitor. She went to answer it, not exercising any special caution. She felt numb.

It was Adam.

“What a surprise,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. There was no warmth left inside her, no hint of the coquette.

He gave her a quick survey, assessing her bleak mood. “You forgot your sweater.”

She looked down at the garment he offered. The cream-colored knit made a sharp contrast to his dark hands. They were strong, capable hands. An honest
man’s hands, she thought, even though she didn’t trust him.

“Normally we would have stuck it in the lost-and-found,” he said.

Her gaze rose to his face. It was compellingly sincere. For some reason she couldn’t unfold her arms to accept the sweater. She just stared at him, her lips trembling. The tears that wouldn’t come a few minutes ago rushed to the surface, wetting her dry eyes.

He didn’t panic at the sight or make any awkward excuses. As if he understood that she was frozen, he shook out the knit fabric and draped it around her shoulders, enveloping her in its soft embrace.

Kari melted at the gesture. Allowing herself to be drawn forward, she pressed her face to the front of his shirt and cried. He wrapped his arms around her, cupping the back of her head and stroking her hair. There were no words of comfort or invasive questions. He just held her until the tears abated.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sniffling. Her nose was running, so she shied away from him, grabbing a tissue. “I didn’t mean to get so emotional.”

“What’s wrong?”

She shrugged. “I had a bad day.”

“Maybe you should talk about it.”

“To you?”

“I’m the only one here.”

God, he seemed so earnest. She’d always been drawn to nice men but fallen into lukewarm relationships. Adam was different. He had the good-guy appeal she responded to, along with a mysterious edge that excited her.

Maybe he was the last person she should be baring her soul to. But he was available, and she liked him.

“My sister is a heroin addict,” she said, clearing her throat. It was the first time Kari had spoken those words out loud. When the earth didn’t quake in protest, she added, “I’ve always felt guilty about it.”

“Why?”

Kari went back to the fridge for a cold drink. This was a long story. “You want one?” she asked, lifting the water bottle.

“No thanks.” He grabbed a chair at the table, waiting for her to continue.

She sat down across from him. “My father was poor when we came here, but he worked really hard and saved enough money to buy a furniture store. His business was a runaway success. He lived the American dream, spoiling Sasha and me with expensive gifts. We wore designer clothes and went to trendy clubs. By the time we were teenagers, we both had fake IDs. No one questioned us.”

“What about your mother?”

“She died in the Czech Republic. I’m sure that was one of the reasons my dad treated us like princesses. I think he wanted us to have a carefree life, because his had been so full of hardship. But it didn’t work out that way.”

“What happened?”

“A year after I graduated from high school, my dad had a heart attack and passed away. I didn’t know how to be responsible for myself, let alone Sasha. She’d always been wild, and I wasn’t a very good guardian to her.”

“Why do you say that?”

Kari swallowed hard. “Later that year I met this guy, a club promoter. He took me to all the best parties, and I was … easily impressed. One night he introduced Sasha to a friend of his. The four of us went up to the VIP area. Sasha drank too much champagne, which was typical of her, but so did I. Andrew asked if I wanted to go to the next room, and I said yes. I left my sister there, practically passed out, with a total stranger.”

Adam didn’t have to ask what had happened then. He knew.

“When I heard her scream, I sort of … woke up from the champagne fog. I ran to help, but the door was locked. When I finally got in, Sasha was sobbing, her clothes torn. And the guy was so smug, like he knew he’d get away with it.”

“Did he?”

“Yes. I took her to the hospital and gave a statement to the police, but she refused to press charges. She said she couldn’t remember anything. She was only seventeen at the time. And she’s been using heavily ever since.”

“Why do you think you’re at fault?”

Kari’s eyes welled with tears once again. “I introduced her to drugs at a very young age. We smoked pot together. Whatever I did, she did.”

“Did you do heroin?”

“No, Adam, I left her to be raped!” Hands trembling, she swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I was annoyed with her for getting wasted and embarrassing me. So I left her, drunk and alone, to be raped.”

“You were drinking, too. Your judgment was impaired.”

She looked away. “I will
never
forgive myself.”

“What about the rapist? Doesn’t he deserve the blame?”

“Of course, but—I should have protected her. I should have known.”

“The only person who could have known was the perpetrator himself, and maybe his asshole friend. How old were they?”

“Twenty-five,” she whispered.

“I’ll bet the club promoter understood the danger he was leaving your sister in and didn’t give a damn. Those men exploited both of you.”

Kari nodded, miserable. She’d never seen Andrew again.

“If you’d been raped while Sasha was passed out, would you hold her responsible?”

She blinked at him in surprise. “No.”

“Jesus, Kari, have you ever talked to anyone about this?”

“Just the police officer.”

Adam gave her a level stare, saying nothing. Maybe he didn’t think she’d made all the right decisions, but he didn’t criticize her or dismiss her feelings. He wasn’t offering any false platitudes, either. She appreciated his straightforwardness. Too many men said what they thought women wanted to hear.

“I’ve enabled her in so many ways,” she murmured, hugging the sweater around her body. “I’ve given her money and kept her secrets. I told her I wouldn’t see her unless she was sober, but she’s never sober. I couldn’t cut her out of my life.” Her throat tightened with sadness. She stood abruptly, tipping the plastic chair over. “Now I feel like I’ve already lost her. I’ve never been able to help her, and I’m afraid she’s going to die!”

Adam’s expression softened, but Kari pressed her hand to her mouth and turned away, dismayed by her words. Voicing her fears made them seem too real, too frighteningly possible. She couldn’t handle the thought of her baby sister overdosing. After the day she’d had, it was too much.

He rose to his feet and came up behind her, touching her arm. His hand burned through the thin knit, heating her bare skin.

Kari didn’t want to cry anymore. She didn’t want to let go of Sasha; she wanted to reach out and grab something else. She needed to shut off her emotions for a few fleeting moments and surrender to sensation.

She knew Adam would accommodate her. She could read his desire without even looking at his face. His body was taut with tension, and his chest emanated warmth. If she leaned back a few inches, she’d feel him.

Her breath quickened, and she covered his hand with hers, stroking his knuckles. His fingers tightened on her upper arm, a reflexive squeeze that made her shiver. “Could you get in trouble for being with me?”