Velocity (Karen Vail #3)(111)

“You’re proud of what you do?”

“I was.”

“I came back,” Robby said. “To LA. I lived in Burbank, joined the LAPD. Because of my uncle.”

Diego nodded, thought a moment, then said, “Have you ever told anyone? About your uncle? About what you did?”

Robby looked away.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Diego said.

“I couldn’t. Just like you couldn’t tell anyone about your father.”

Diego turned to face him. “It’s not the same. And the sooner you can admit that, the sooner your soul will be cleansed.”

Robby chuckled. “You’re telling me about cleansing my soul?”

“I found God, Robby. I’m a changed person.”

Robby studied his friend’s face. “You’re serious.”

“The Sandiego Ortega that Willie Quintero and the rest of the cartel members know is no longer. He’s dead to me.”

“Bullshit. Didn’t you just hose those guys in that yard, back at the house?”

“That was Willie. I was shooting, yeah, but I was aiming low and wide.”

“Come on, man. How long do you think you can survive in this cartel with your newfound religion?”

“I can’t.” Diego turned away. “The minute they ask me to blow somebody away, I’m going to have to refuse, and they will then kill me. I won’t just be useless to them, I’ll be a liability. I know too much. I know a lot.”

“Then we’ve both gotta get out of here.” Robby tried again to sit up but couldn’t negotiate the maneuver in the small backseat. He held up his cuffed wrists. “Unhook me. Now.”

“It’s too dangerous. I sold the idea to my boss that you’re worth more to him in credits with the DEA. But the real reason is that if I get you out, you have to take me with you. I will confess to one killing. They will probably want to send me to prison, I understand that.”

“You’ll be killed. The cartel, they’ll find you.”

Diego leaned close, across the backseat. In a hushed voice, he said, “I’ll be in witness protection, hermano. I will testify, give them money launderers here in the U.S., tell them how the cartel moves their product. Who helps, what businesses and individuals clean the money. I know a lot of shit about Cortez, too.”

“Witness protection or not, I’m sure you realize the danger inv—”

“I can take care of myself, hermano, no worries. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Me?”

“If we’re going to do this, you need to confess, too. Make right with the Lord.”

Robby jolted backward, as if burned by a stove. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” His gaze turned dark and hard. “Don’t insult me.” He waited and when Robby did not respond, Diego tightened his lips. “If you’re going to play games, the deal’s off. I’ll find my own way into custody. I’m giving you a way out, Robby—for both of us.”

Robby ground his molars. He knew what Diego was referring to. Fourteen years ago, Robby’s uncle was shaken down by a Los Angeles gang running a protection ring. That his uncle would land on their radar was something Robby never understood. His convenience store made, at best, a modest profit. Regardless, his uncle made the payment for several years, until the store fell on hard times. He then faced a choice: feed his family or cover the monthly protection fee. He chose to buy food.

After a month of warnings, one day after school when Robby was in the store, Gerardo Soto grabbed Robby around the neck and threatened to kill him unless his uncle paid up—with interest. His uncle told Soto he was done, that he didn’t have the money—and that no one threatened his family. Soto and his two thugs pulled weapons. Robby broke free and fled, but in the reflection of the Coke refrigeration unit, he saw Soto riddle his uncle’s body with hollow point rounds. It was an image Robby had never been able to wipe from his brain.

Robby blinked away tears. “That’s no one’s business, Diego.”

Diego wagged a finger at him. “The Lord is judging you, Robby. Here and now. Do not lie. When you went after Soto, when you hunted him down, and then pulled the trigger, you broke the law. You murdered him. In cold blood.”

“C’mon man. I was a kid.”

“I’m sure that’s what you’ve told yourself all these years. But you were a teenager. Doesn’t matter. Are you saying that excuses it? If you see a teen murder someone now as a cop, do you let him go because he was young, or do you arrest him?”

Robby’s hands were fisted knuckle-white. “What do you want me to say, Diego?”

“Say, ‘I accept responsibility for what I’ve done. And I will pay the price and I will ask the Lord’s forgiveness.’”

“Soto was scum, you know that. He killed my uncle, and I’m sure he’d killed others. He deserved it.”

“Not your decision, was it? That’s what you would tell the guys you hook up in handcuffs now, no?”

Robby did not answer. Ahead, out the window, he saw Willie Quintero—Diego’s partner—approaching.

“Willie will be back any second. This ain’t up for discussion, hermano. You’re in or you’re out. I need to know.”