Spiders in the Grove (In the Company of Killers #7)(45)

“I don’t know who the fuck you are,” Mr. Lockhart shouts as I walk out the front door, “but if you ever—”

I don’t hear the rest, the door slamming to shut him up, and all that. I’ll probably come back after this is all over with and kill him on principle.

I sprint three blocks down the street, cut through four backyards, before making it to my car parked at the softball field.

“All right, Izzy,” I say aloud, shutting the door hard and thrusting the key into the ignition, “you’ll probably hate me after this, but—who am I fucking kidding? You already do!” I laugh at myself, put the car into gear and speed away, heading for the airport.





Izabel


“Cesara, get out of here—now!” Joaquin’s voice rips through the space. “I don’t care what she’s done to you; she broke your fucking heart, so what—your fault for getting too close. You know how this works!”

“She’s a traitor, Joaquin! And you”—she points a finger at him; her face twisted with rage—“you’ve known all this time? Tell me it’s not true. Tell me she’s a fucking liar!”

“It’s true,” Joaquin snaps. “But now, thanks to her”—he glances at me sitting on a chair with my hands tied behind my back—“everybody knows.” He walks over to her, gestures his hand at the room. “Do you hear that, Cesara? Listen to it.”

Cesara puts her ear to the room, and after a moment she looks confused.

“I don’t hear anything,” she says.

Joaquin shakes his head. “It’s the calm before the storm,” he says and inhales deeply, walking away from her. “Everything will change now—he’ll probably kill all of us for the spectacle tonight. We probably lost several big buyers over this.”

“We?” Cesara’s eyebrows crumple. “This whole thing was your idea! You were the one who wanted to bring that girl out on stage; you were the one who thought this whole telenovela stunt with El Segador was a good idea—I had nothing to do with it!”

Joaquin’s arm shoots out like an arrow, his hand collapsing around her throat. “You knew about it,” he threatens, pushing the words through his teeth. “You were enjoying it”—he squeezes, and Cesara’s hands tighten futilely around his wrist. “But worst of all,” he continues, “worse than anything I did, you were the one who fell for her, Cesara. You were trained for years not only to be hard, merciless, unforgiving toward those girls, but you were supposed to be able to tell when something about any of them wasn’t right. You, seeing her every single day, sleeping in the same bed with her, putting your head between her pretty little thighs, should’ve seen it, but you were too blinded—you should’ve known!” He releases her throat, shoving her backward.

Cesara coughs violently, a hand probing where his had almost crushed her windpipe; her face is red; her eyes red-rimmed and watering.

She looks at me, so hard, so cold, and if Joaquin were to leave me alone with her even for a second, I know she’d kill me.

Joaquin’s laughter rips through the air. “No one could ever love you, Cesara,” he says, a mocking smile in his voice.

Cesara glares at him, her left eye twitching, and then she turns swiftly and storms out of the room.

Joaquin begins to pace, but he stops when Cesara’s tall, angry form re-enters the room. I gasp, and my heart sinks to the floor when I see Sabine crushed against Cesara’s chest, a gun to her head.

“Don’t do it,” I warn her. “Don’t you fucking do it.”

“What are you going to do, Sarai”—the emphasis on my real name laced with vengeance—“tell Javier and have me killed?”

Sabine’s eyes fill with tears as she looks across at me; her body is shaking.

“Don’t do it!”

“Tell him!” Cesara challenges, and then pulls the trigger; the strident gunshot in the enclosed room deafening me momentarily; blood sprays her face.

Sabine’s body hits the floor, and then Cesara storms out, this time for good.

With sadness in my heart, I lower my head. Hope is bullshit, Sabine. It always was. It always is.

After a moment: “What’s it like, Joaquin, living in your brother’s shadow, even when most people thought he was dead?”—(he snarls)—“I’ve known about you for a long time; in fact, I was going to kill you with the rest of your family when I came back to Mexico the first time. Lucky for you, you were nowhere to be found. Just like Javier. Had to know I’d come back again, sooner or later.”

“Yeah, well, doesn’t look like it worked out well for you,” he stabs back at me.

He paces the floor.

“Why didn’t you kill him?” he asks. “Did he get away that night? Is the story I heard even true? Javier never would tell me the truth.”

“I’m not going to tell you, either.” I smirk.

“But I want to know!” He storms across the room at me; the heat of his breath I can feel on my face. “Did you let my brother live, or did he get away? Tell me!” He shakes me, his hands gripping my shoulders.

I smile, unintimidated.

“Why didn’t you kill him yourself if you hate him so much?” I ask. “You had the perfect opportunity, everybody thinking he’s dead already. Why didn’t you just kill him?” I look around the room. “The whole Ruiz Empire would’ve gone directly to you, being his only living brother. You could’ve owned everything, instead of just pretending you did.”