Spiders in the Grove (In the Company of Killers #7)(55)

“Well, now I’m worried.”

After a moment, I say, “I have something to do before I go see Victor.” I head for the door, grabbing a briefcase full of money on my way. “If you see Izzy before I do, tell her I said…never mind, I’ll tell her myself.”

Fredrik nods.





Izabel


I had stolen a car from the mansion, and drove as far as I could before it ran out of gas. I’d been walking alone in the desert for hours before Naeva and Leo picked me up, a semi-automatic clutched in my hand, no shoes on my feet, dress stained with blood. I was standing in the middle of the dirt road, gun pointed at the car as it came toward me. I almost shot them both—and my only ride. So, Javier was telling the truth about letting them go.

“We’ve been looking all over for you,” Naeva says the moment I get inside the car. “We drove back to the mansion to see everybody dead. But not you”—she smiles at me in the backseat—“I didn’t even check all the bodies; I knew you were still alive. So, we left looking for you.”

I smile weakly back at her. “I guess I should thank you.”

“Thank me?” Naeva shakes her head; her eyebrows crumple. “I owe you my life, Sarai—we both do.” She touches Leo’s arm; he glances over his shoulder at me, thanking me with his eyes. I wonder why he’s driving after being shot, but it doesn’t seem to bother him; or, more likely, he’s ignoring the pain.

Wanting to avoid any comments that paint me as some kind of hero, I change the subject.

“What was the deal?” I ask Leo. “Why did Javier let you go?”

“He’s going bring me back—my name,” Leo says in broken English. “I fight for him and he no kill Naeva.”

I doubt Leo Moreno will have any trouble bringing back his name—I don’t think it ever really died.

“How do you feel about that?” I ask. “About fighting again?”

Naeva glances at me, dejection in her face—she definitely doesn’t like the arrangement.

“I do anything for Naeva,” Leo says. “Besides, fighting is all I know. It all I ever done.”

“Well, you’ve been relieved of your contract with Javier Ruiz,” I tell him. “He’s dead. I killed him.”

Naeva’s eyes slowly brighten, followed by a thankful smile; I can tell she wants to wrap her arms around me, and she would if she wasn’t in the front seat and I in the back.

Leo’s face never changes. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. And I don’t ask why.

The rest of the ride is quiet.

As we approach the El Paso border, I brace myself for whatever scene plays out with border patrol agents there. None of us exactly look like innocent American tourists coming back from fun in the sun on a Mexican beach. We look like we just escaped a compound and killed a hundred people on our way out. I still have the semi-automatic—illegal in Mexico—it’s laying on the seat beside me. And Leo Moreno is still Mexican, and I’m not sure about his legal status in the United States. In fact, I doubt anyone has any sort of ID on them—I sure as hell don’t. I’m pretty sure the car was stolen, too.

Leo pulls up for his turn at the crossing, and two border patrol agents approach the car. They look inside. One notes the gun on the seat; the bloodstained clothes; the everything-wrong-about-this-picture.

Leo hands the other agent a yellow slip of paper; the agent looks down at it, and then he blinks a few times as understanding spreads over his features.

A moment later, after the second agent comes around to inspect the paper too, they wave us on quicker than anyone else.

“What was that?” Naeva asks Leo.

“Documentation from Javier,” he answers, keeping his eyes on the Texas road ahead of him. “My first new fight is going be in El-lay-ah.”

“El-lay-ah?” I ask.

“L.A.,” Naeva clarifies.

I knew that already—I speak fluent Spanish—so I’m not sure why I forgot. Maybe now that Javier is really dead, and I’m done with Mexico, the things I learned there will fall away with it. I doubt it.

Leo said “is” not was—he’s still going to fight even though, with Javier dead, he doesn’t have to. I wonder how Naeva feels about that. Again, I don’t ask. It’s none of my business, and while a part of me is a little curious, the rest of me has more important things to think about.

The sky is gray-yellow over the Texas landscape, the early morning sun still waking up on the horizon. I lay down on the backseat next to the gun and shut my eyes, but I don’t fall asleep. Too much on my mind. Like what I’m going to do next, where I’m going, how much of what Javier told me that I’m going to tell Victor. Maybe I won’t tell him anything yet. I began this mission on my own, and I’d like to finish it the same way. I may be done with Mexico, but technically, I’m not done.

~~~

Sometime during the ride, I did eventually fall asleep, because now as my eyelids crack open to the sound of Naeva’s voice, I realize I’m back in Arizona. Back at home.

“Sarai, we’re here,” she says; I feel her hand on my shoulder.

I raise up from the seat, surprised I could’ve slept so long and so well after everything I’d just been through, all the people I killed. Cesara. Joaquin. Javier. The ones without names. The only person who died in Mexico that I think about though, is Sarai. But she died a long time ago, and I wasn’t the person who killed her. Or was I?