My defenses were crumbling.
There was a knock at my door and I quickly shoved the pant leg down. Javier hadn’t seen the tattoo yet. I felt like if he saw it, he’d be intruding on a private memory, I’d feel like his very eyes would taint it.
“What?” I asked, brushing the hair off my face while checking to see whether my eyes had leaked tears or not. They hadn’t. I was good.
The handle was jiggled, followed by another knock. I sighed and got off the bed, unlocking the door. I took a step back and it opened. Raul stuck his head in. Not that I wanted to see Javier, but I especially didn’t want to see him.
“Are you alright?” he asked, all beaky nose and widow’s peak. “I thought I heard you crying.”
I glared at him. He couldn’t have looked less concerned, in fact it looked like he found the whole thing to be funny.
“I’m fine, do you mind giving me some privacy?”
His face grew still for a moment before he smiled. “Sure thing. You know, if you ever need to talk, to someone who understands, who is just outside of the equation, you know you can talk to me.”
As if that didn’t sound insincere enough, his eyes traveled down to my chest and back and he ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth.
Before I could tell him to get the fuck out he winked at me and then shut the door. I locked it again, hoping he could hear it, and went back to the bed. I put my fingers up my pant leg, tracing them over the scars, imagining Camden’s hands on top of mine. Then I lay on my side and hoped for sleep to come so I didn’t have to suffer a moment longer.
CHAPTER TEN
CAMDEN
We had gone as far as La Cruces, New Mexico when we met the first of Gus’s contacts. After following I-10 for the last few days, the blistering sun making the interior of the GTO swelter like a fat man’s armpits, with minimal stops for gas and sleep, La Cruces was a sight for sore eyes.
As was Gus’s contact. Lydia DuShane was a Louisiana native who gave up running her battered coffee shop after Hurricane Katrina to run a pie shop in La Cruces. Though she was an older lady, late fifties, she was one who’d aged better than any of the plastic-coated women in LA. Her skin was relatively smooth and freckled, hair a mixture of red and grey, and blue eyes that were nicely wrinkled from smiling too much. She made me feel immediately at home, which was a bit jarring considering what Gus had told me about her.
“When she’s not baking pies, she’s bounty hunting,” he’d said as we pulled into town.
“Uh,” I said, fidgeting in my seat, “isn’t that kind of a problem for me?”
Gus gave me a dry look. “Hey, kid, there’s no bounty on your head yet. Besides, you’re with me. You’re one of the good guys.”
I raised my brow. Right.
Soon after Lydia sat us down in her shop, the last remaining customers in her store dwindled out as it approached the 3PM closing time. We had two fresh pieces of apricot blueberry pie in front of us. That, combined with the steaming cups of coffee and the vintage posters of farm life on the walls, did work as a wonderful front. Who would ever believe that sweet, patient Lydia had a knack for nabbing America’s Most Wanted?
Yet, after she’d flipped the sign to Closed on the front door and locked it, sliding down into the booth with us, she took out a small netbook and slipped on a pair of glasses, ready to get down to the point.
“So you’re hunting Javier Bernal, is that right?” she asked. I could see her flicking from website to website in her glasses’ reflection.
“You know him?” I asked.
She snorted. “I know everyone. If I’m not keeping tabs, I’m not doing my job.”
I leaned forward eagerly. “Is he wanted for something?”
She shook her head. “Nah, not yet. The police have ideas but then again half the force is corrupt anyway in Mississippi. You think the New Orleans PD is bad, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” She took her eyes off the screen and tilted her head at me. “I like to know what the baddies are doing so when they do finally do something to get them in trouble, and believe it catches up to all of them, I know their next step. I was watching this one guy for years before he slipped up and was wanted for a DUI. Considering the guy’s unofficial rap sheet, I knew the reward would be a big one. I knew where his safe house was and I nabbed him the next day. Cops were already on the way.”
“How do you do it? I mean, you’re not frail but …”
She smiled slyly in a satisfied way. “I’m a woman. And that’s the secret. I’ve been around the block. You’d be surprised what a retiree can get away with. Ain’t that right, Gus?”
Gus scratched at his beard and I could have sworn his cheeks turned a shade of pink. That was something to ask him about later, even though I knew his answer would be a glare and a grunt.
He cleared his throat. “So where is Mr. Bernal now?”
“Ocean Springs, Mississippi,” she said, sitting back in her chair. “Are you boys going to eat your pie or what?”
“I’d love to but we really need to get a move on,” I said apologetically. I got up but Gus’s arm shot out and he planted me back down
“Relax, Camden, we’ll get there,” he said. “A town isn’t enough. We need a plan.”
I shook my head. We can plan in the car. If he’s in Ocean Springs and that’s where Ellie lived with him, then I have no doubt that he’s living in the same house he was six years ago.”
“Who is Ellie?” Lydia asked, eyes wide and shining.
I shot Gus a look to keep quiet but he ignored me. “Ellie Watt. She’s Bernal’s ex-girlfriend and is, we think, being more or less held hostage.”