Mel and I stared at each other a moment. Who’d ever hurt her had done a number on her. She had a black eye and a swollen lip, and I could see ligature marks on her wrists, and what looked like a fresh burn above her left breast. In spite of these wounds, she managed a smile.

  Then I stepped into the stall, unmindful of the water, and pressed my lips to hers.

  ***

  We started our lovemaking in the shower stall and somehow found our way to the bed. I didn’t care that we were wet and neither did she. Afterward, we huddled together beneath the blankets, holding each other for warmth and saying nothing for a long time. Just staring at our fingers interlaced together. My ribs were killing me, but I didn’t tell her about it.

  I didn’t tell her about the in-house surveillance, either. Frankly, I hoped whoever was listening or watching got their money’s worth. As far as discussing Carlos’s offer went, they could wait. I was in no hurry.

  She broke the silence first. “I knew you’d come.”

  “As soon as I could.” Which was almost the truth.

  “Did you find Rogan?”

  “Yes. He’s agreed to help us.”

  She curled her fingers closed, trapping mine in her own. “I don’t trust him.”

  “Neither do I.” Gently, I stroked her hair with my other hand, nestling her head against my chest. “But I didn’t have much choice. At first, he tried to pit me against you. Laid that whole, ‘Melissa is a sociopath,’ nonsense on me.”

  I felt her stiffen a bit when I mentioned it. So far, we’d never really talked about it.

  “And?”

  “And what? I had him by the shorthairs. Threatened to leave him standing on a pressure plate bomb if he didn’t cooperate. When he saw I meant business, he started talking. Told me what I wanted to know.”

  “So you’ve got the hard drive.”

  I grimaced. “Not exactly. He started muttering about how old the computer was and something about a cloud.”

  “Cloud? The cloud? He put it on the internet?”

  “I think so.”

  She swore and pulled away from me and sat up. My eyes traced the form of her naked back.

  “Is that bad?” I asked.

  “Probably!” She massaged her temples. “Internet means anyone can access it.”

  “He said it’s encrypted.”

  “Baby, do the initials NSA mean anything to you?”

  “National Security Agency. What about them?”

  She turned to stare at me, angry that I didn’t understand. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I shrugged and tried not to stare at her chest. “You’re gonna have to spell it out.”

  “Prism? Marina? Stellarwind?”

  “I love it when you talk Hackerese.”

  “I’m serious, Gerrold!” She slapped my knee. I tried not to grin.

  “I don’t know what those are, babe.”

  She released an exasperated breath. “Sorry. I forget sometimes the things you missed out on.”

  “Evidently a lot.”

  “The NSA has a host of surveillance programs dedicated to catching terrorists. Hackers have known about them for some time, even before the Snowden revelations. But once it hit the fan, instead of backing away the NSA doubled down. It doesn’t matter how encrypted something is. Once it’s on the internet, the government can pry open access.”

  I didn’t know what she meant by ‘Snowden revelations,’ but decided to act as if I did. “If they can access it, they can change it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So we’d better pray that Rogan has access to the original file.”

  “That was why I wanted the hard drive.”

  “All right. D’you still have your phone?”

  She shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Carlos has it.”

  “We’ll have to get it from him.”

  “What does he want with you, anyway?”

  “He wants me to work for him. Banger said I impressed him. I think what most impressed the man is that I’m not afraid of him. Maybe I’m supposed to be, I don’t know. At any rate, he gave me the song and dance about coming from Cuba, and somehow that because his intentions are good his actions don’t matter.”

  She half-laughed. “Sounds familiar.”

  “Right. Let me tell you something, if I had to do it over again… ah hell, who am I kidding? If I had to do it over again I’d probably try harder not to get caught.”

  “Good to see prison wasn’t wasted.”

  “Funny girl.”

  “What are you going to tell him?”

  I thought of Candi and the urgent way she insisted she could help. Whatever decision I had to make could at least wait until I heard her out. “He’s made the point that he and I aren’t all that different. I suppose on some level he’s right, which means the real question is whether or not I’d want to work with someone like me. I don’t have a ready answer for that.”

  Mel ran her hand alongside my cheek. “I do. And the answer’s no.”

  I furrowed my brow.

  “If I didn’t love you—if we hadn’t been through everything we’ve been through together—then no. I wouldn’t do it over again. I was just a stupid girl with stars in her eyes. You were this rock star badass who blew up the school. What troubled kid wouldn’t love that? And you were strong. And scary. Just like my stepdad. Just like Gill.” She dropped her hand and stroked the sheets. “Everything I hated about them—the same things that drew me to them—you had also. But you weren’t them. You could be cruel, but you didn’t enjoy being cruel. You didn’t want to be the person they made you become. And that’s the difference.

  “We’re outlaws—and sure, yeah, we chose to be. But we didn’t want to be. And if we both had to do it over again, I know it, Gerrold. We’d do our damndest to find another way. Except there isn’t one. And maybe there never was.”

  I sighed. “That may be the case, but I suspect our host would make the same argument.”

  She stared at me. “You’re serious? You’re actually considering this.”

  “I’m thinking about how well we did on our own.”

  Exasperated, she pushed off the bed and went for her clothes.

  “We didn’t do so hot,” I argued. “I mean, look at us. Look where we wound up.”

  “Yes.” She yanked on her underwear and jeans. “Look carefully, Gerrold. Look very carefully.”

  “I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt to have a benefactor.”

  She gave me a disbelieving snort as she pulled on her shirt. “You’d better think about who you get into bed with.”

  The clear implication was that it would be either her or Carlos. But not both.

  Mel moved toward the door. “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Nowhere. Anywhere but here.”

  She opened the door and a small yelp escaped her lips.

  Hans stood on the other side. He regarded us both a moment from his seemingly too large head, a day’s growth of silvery whiskers across his cheeks and chin. “Carlos says it is time to eat. Now.”

  He moved to one side and let Mel pass through. Then his bulk filled the frame. “I suggest you put on a shirt.”

  With that, he smirked and closed the door.

  ***

  I came downstairs a few minutes later. Carlos had done his research. The clothes in the closet and dresser were all my size. He even had my preferred brand and type of underwear.

  I really did not want to know how he came by that information. I suspected he must’ve pried it from Mel, once he explained to her his intentions to draw me out.

  Certainly she hadn’t seemed all that surprised to see me. Which meant she must’ve been expecting me.

  At the bottom of the stairs a maid in a gray housedress with a starched white apron directed me to the left, and then through a pair of double oak doors into an expansive dining room.

  As soon as I entered, I knew we were in trouble.

  Chapter 32

  Carlos stood at the head of the table, with Mel visibly uncomfortable beside him. Vic and Hans waited beside her, with Candi on Carlos’s opposite side followed by Banger. An empty chair waited beside Banger. I cleared my throat and started toward it, but Carlos said, “No señor. You will sit opposite me at the foot of the table. The empty chair is for the associate who will not be joining us this night, nor any night hereafter, for his indiscretions.” Here he gently stroked Mel’s hair. I felt my face redden.

  “But we leave his chair empty to honor his memory,” he continued, “and in consideration of the valuable and loyal service he performed for us over the years. Please, sit.”

  I pulled the chair out and mumbled, “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Candi cleared her throat. “My apologies, Señor Smith.” She spoke in a beaten voice with a furtive glance at Carlos. “It was my duty to inform you. I neglected to mention it.”

  “It is no matter.” He waved it off with his hand. “It won’t happen again. Isn’t that right?” He reached out a forefinger and graced Candi’s chin. I glanced at Vic, who took this moment to study his place setting. His eyes drifted briefly toward the steak knife beside his plate.

  “Truthfully,” Carlos spoke up, “I blame myself, hmm? Our conversation became so spirited I neglected to mention when we would be serving dinner.”

  “Regardless,” I forced a smile. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  “We shall see.” With that, he clapped his hands together, and the doors beside him opened. Servers in gray and white clothes came into the room, laying a feast of blood red prime rib with horseradish on the side, steamed asparagus tips, béarnaise sauce, roasted red potatoes, and a large bottle of red wine.

  The waiter poured a small glass for Carlos and let him sniff its bouquet. He made a show of it, and I wondered if this wasn’t some lame attempt to impress me with his wealth.

  Or to intimidate.

  “Château Margaux,” he said, and sent the waiter down the table to fill my glass. “From 1979. An exceptional vintage.”

  “Wouldn’t know,” I replied. “‘Fraid I’m not much of a wine connoisseur.”

  “What was your background, if you don’t mind my asking?” He said as they served the rest of the meal.

  “Background?”

  “Before you got into blowing things up?”

  “I was a farmer.”

  “A man who worked the earth.”

  “Actually, it was a dairy farm up in New York. Small affair. Mostly subsistence and a paltry one at that. Mary and I never could’ve afforded a meal like this, but we were content. Happy, even.”

  “Mary. She was your wife?”

  I nodded. “Cancer took her. Shortly after that, the state took my kids. I fought back. One thing led to another, and now here I sit five years later enjoying a fine cut of beef with some fancy French vintage whose name I can’t even pronounce.”

  “Times change.” He saluted me with his drink.

  “They do indeed.”

  “Have you given any consideration to my offer?”

  I smiled thinly. “I was hoping to sleep on it.”

  “But of course. Take as much time as you need. We shall discuss it again in the morning.”

  “Speaking of which,” I suddenly frowned, “where is Hector?”

  “Ah, the young man who came with you. He is resting right now.”

  “Resting?”

  “Bad hit,” Banger put in. “What was that?” He elbowed Vic, “Heroin?”

  “Heroin?” I stopped with my fork partway to my mouth. “You mean he’s doped up?”

  The fight coordinator laughed. “Out of his mind. Out of this world. Ain’t that right, Carlos?”

  “Banger,” Carlos’s voice had turned icy, “if you cannot master your tongue, I will cut it out of your head.”

  “You doped Hector on heroin?” The food I’d been eating tasted like ashes.

  Carlos lifted a cautionary hand. “Señor Smith, if you please. Hector made his own choice. No one forced it on him.”

  “You kidding? Hector’s an addict. Just having it around is like forcing it on him.”

  Abruptly, he threw his napkin on the table. “¡Dios mío! What is it with you? I am exhausted with your sensitivities, eh? A man can only take so much!”

  I stared at him a moment. He certainly had been trying hard to impress or intimidate, and I wondered why. Frankly, I’d have been more impressed if he hadn’t have bothered. Someone who shot straight—even if from the hip—always did more for me than anyone’s flavor of sweet talk.

  “Carlos,” I started, “if we are going to be partners in any endeavor, we’re going to have to come to an understanding about some things. I’m well aware of the kind of support you can offer, but there’s some deal breakers you gotta know about. There are three things that I absolutely cannot stand. Number one: people who prey on children, especially sexual predators. I don’t care if they’re five or fifteen, you go after a kid, you’re in my cross hairs. Number two, drug dealers—just like our good friend, Vic, here.” I glanced at Vic. “I hate your line of work. You sell poison.”

  Vic shook his head. “Naw, bro. What I sell is escape. What they buy is poison.”

  “I’m not your bro.”

  He picked up his knife and twirled it on its tip. Just try it, buddy, I thought. I kept him in the corner of my eye. “The third thing I can’t stand is a bully. Someone who uses his power to throw his weight around, get his way, and put other people down. Can’t stand it at all. That’s what the government did to me and my kids. Now you want me to be a wrecking ball for you. I gotta ask: you sure you want that? ‘Cause once I start, I tend to operate by my own set of rules. The thing about a wrecking ball is that you always got to be prepared for the rebound, so it don’t swing back on you.”

  “Is that a threat, Señor Smith?”

  “No. Just telling it like it is. Don’t ask me to protect your drugs. Don’t ask me to help you bully someone. Don’t even think about trying to bully me. And don’t you dare have even a hint of the child sex trade on you. Those are my terms.”

  A cold smile spread across Carlos’s face.

  “Oh,” I added, “and ah, Mel stays with me. And no one gives Hector drugs.”

  The mobster wiped his hands on his napkin. “That’s it?”

  “Yeah.”

  He leaned back in his chair and snapped his fingers. One of his servants hurried forward, and after conferring a moment with Carlos, the man bent next to Mel. “Señorita? If you please?” He motioned toward the end of the table. Mel exchanged glances with me and the servant, and then scooted back and stood. A moment later she was seated beside me. I reached for her hand. She let me hold it, but didn’t squeeze back.

  I’m paying for this later, I mused.

  “Satisfied?” Carlos asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Your friend Hector will need to detox if he is to get clean. I cannot guarantee he will not relapse. But if he does, it will not be my doing.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Very good.” With that, he raised his glass, and with an assertive nod prompted the rest of us to do the same. “To a long and prosperous association. ¡Salud!”

  Mel left her glass untouched and instead glared at me from red-rimmed eyes. I frowned, and then lifted my wine and drank to Carlos’s toast.

  She pulled her hand away.

  Okay, maybe I’m paying for this now.

  I put my glass down. “Now. Take me to Hector.”

  ***

  Carlos wasn’t keen on my request, but I insisted. The vein that throbbed on the side of his head warned me that I was pushing my luck with him, but I didn’t care. I suppose, if he wanted to, he could take both us out back and put bullets through our heads, but then he’d be stuck with two dead bodies (three with Hector) and no one left to do his dirty work. Which was the entire point in dragging us up here to his beach house in the first place.

  In the end, he had Vic do it, leaving Hans, Banger and Candi to finish their meal in peace.

  Vic led us back to the stairs to the second floor. They must’ve put Hector in one of the rooms near our own. Which was fine. I really just wanted to know where he was so I could reach him in a hurry if I needed to. I also wanted another look at this place. The whole experience had raised my blood pressure to what I was sure was a dangerous level. I could feel the adrenaline coursing into my muscles. My palms and shoulders ached.

  Contrary to what I’d told Carlos at his toast, or to what I’d intimated to Mel after our reunion, I had no intention of doing anything for this mobster other than putting as much distance between us as we could. I figured he’d be suspicious of me if I agreed too readily. I knew I would’ve been. So the whole ‘three things I cannot stand’ speech was about stating my resistance up front in the most honest, forthright way I could.

  In short, I hadn’t lied to the man. That he believed he had me fooled would be his own undoing.

  If I could figure out a way out of this place, that was.

  On top of that, I was aching to find out what had happened to Rogan. I had every confidence that he and his pals could handle whatever happened to be waiting for them at the ambush they knew they were walking into. I figured whoever had blown up Rogan’s house must’ve realized we were on to him and came to tidy up the loose end that Rogan represented to them.

  But did that mean they no longer feared the list? That they’d hacked into it as Mel said they could and had deleted or corrupted the file? Or was it that they believed Rogan had been compromised (meaning: I’d gotten what I came for), and they figured I represented a lesser threat than Rogan had. Something about being a credible witness, I was sure.

  Regardless, all the speculation in the world did nothing to ease my mind. And at the moment, I had more immediate concerns.

  “Why’d you do it?”

  Vic asked the question without turning around, and for a moment I wasn’t sure who he was talking to, let alone what he meant by it.