Perversion (Perversion Trilogy #1)(35)

“Out of the mouth of one criminal and into the ears of another,” I point out. “And if anyone asks you about me, tell them the truth, that I’m just a sexy law-abiding citizen being unjustly harassed by the law.”

“And I’m the Virgin Bloody Mary,” she retorts. Her face turns serious. Her shiny eyes go flat. “I mean it about losing people, Grim. I’m not willing to go to war again. I don’t want to go back to a time when I have to send my daughters away so they don’t get caught in the crossfire or a time I when I can’t stand in the park talking to an arrogant white boy from the other side of town without bullets flying from one side or the other. If the task force plays us against each other, they might unwittingly light Marco’s fucking match before he has a chance to light it himself.”

I stub out my cigarette and light another one. “I lost a brother. As much as I like killing Los Muertos members, I like keeping my family alive more. Not sure Marco can say the same thing when it comes to us.”

“And I’m sure he can’t.” I’m tucking my lighter into my back pocket when something catches my attention over her shoulder.

Not something. Someone.

She’s wearing a white tank top with a red anarchy symbol across the front. Her long brown hair is tied up in a tight ponytail. She’s making her way through the park with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She stops to tie her shoe next to a picnic basket, and when she starts walking again, she’s crunching on an apple she didn’t have before.

“You know anything about her?” I ask, pointing my cigarette over Margaret’s shoulder. I steady my urge to run to her, sling her over my shoulder, and drag her somewhere she can’t escape until she answers every single one of my burning questions.

She turns her head and scoffs. “Yeah, I know about her. Enough to stay the fuck away from her. Let’s just say she’s got something I don’t want to catch.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“A gigantic case of trouble.” Margaret looks up at me and shields her eyes from the sun. “Let me know when you want to do the sit-down with Los Muertos. I’ll be there.”

“I’ll wear my party dress.”

Margaret calls over her shoulder. “You might want to wear church clothes. ‘Cause I have a feeling we’re gonna be doing a lot of prayin’.”





Sixteen





In a town full of graffiti and violence so thick you can see it rising off the broken asphalt like heavy fog, there’s only one place where I can temporarily feel like I’m not choking on it. The park. When my brain feels muddied, it’s where I come to think. To read, write.

And breathe, without feeling like I’m being crushed to death under rules and threats.

The patch of brown grass beneath me scratches at the backs of my legs. I’m sitting against a tall pine tree with my notebook open on my lap and my pen pushed against the corner of my mouth. The bus tickets are inside, tucked away in the pages. I haven’t told Gabby about them yet. I need to wait for the perfect time. Marco has business with someone in Miami and will be gone for a few days next week. We will have to make our escape then.

If it’s not too late.

You could be queen someday.

My chest tightens, but I refuse to let Marco get to me. Not here. This is my place. The air is warm and smells faintly like manure from the nearby pasture. There’s a black and white dairy cow with swollen utters grazing near the fence. She pushes against the wire with her nose, trying and failing to get to the small patch of green grass just out of reach.

“I feel ya, girl,” I mutter. “Everything I want is just out of reach, too.”

Gabby and I can roam free. But, our situation is a lot like the cow in the pasture. Our freedom is an illusion.

I look down at my notebook and start to write, escaping into my fictional world of fairytales.

For the hundredth time today, I reach for the locket at my neck and remember it’s not there. Before the disappointment sinks in, I remind myself, yet again, that it wasn’t mine to keep.

Neither is Grim.

It’s both a terror and a comfort, knowing that I’ll never see either my locket or Grim again.

I turn back to my notebook and pick up where I left off. An evil sorcerer has just cast a spell on the princess and the prince when a shadow falls over me. I slowly glance up at the man standing before me.

Memo. Marco’s right-hand man.

“What do you want?” I mutter, continuing to scribble away, acting disinterested.

“Marco wanted me to find you.”

“Well, you found me. Congratulations.” I give him a thumbs up. “And no, he didn’t. If Marco wanted to find me he’d just text me from the very convenient phone he gave me, which only allows calls to and from Gabby and Marco. What do you really want?”

“Can’t a guy just come say hi?”

“Yeah, but you can’t.”

Memo adjusts his sagging pants. “Watch your mouth, gringa. You forget who you’re talking to,” he growls. Reaching down, he tugs me up by my arm. My notebook falls to the grass.

“I know exactly who I’m talking to,” I answer, staring him directly in his eyes.

“You’ve got an attitude problem.” He pushes me back against the tree, and my head collides with the bark. “I don’t normally like girls with such mouths.” He runs his thumb over the corner of my lip, and I jerk my head away. “But, for some reason, your attitude turns me on.”