Page 17 of Blood Diamond
“Win what?” I ask, only to remember the cage fight.
“You won big last night, honey. I took out my cut, but the rest is already in your account. Over a hundred grand, baby. Now say ‘thank you, Pedro.’”
“Fuck you, Pedro.” I slump against the counter and watch my expression turn to despair over the mirror’s surface. It’s more money than I could dream of owning and I’m too devastated to care. “What am I going to do? I… I can’t lose him. I can’t.”
“I know,” Pedro says softly. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I know for a fact that Braulio’s private plane left from a remote airport last night. He’s gone, Pita. You know I’ll do whatever I can, but for now, I want you to take a break. There’s nothing else you can do about it, so breathe. Enjoy the place for another day. Try out the jacuzzi bathtub. I’ll call you when I’m done with my next appointment. Ciao, bella.”
He hangs up, and I don’t know how much time passes before I finally gather the nerve to head into the hall. I’m wearing the dress from last night, still, damp after my attempt at handwashing it in the sink. Apparently, I didn’t do a good enough job because I can still smell him all over me. Jaguar. God, his scent is poisonous, infecting every pore. The air itself…
In fact, it’s too real, and I think I know even before I round the corner what I’ll find, there in the living room. A Jaguar in the flesh.
He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, that smirk playing across his lips. Today he’s opted for a black, button-up shirt with the buttons mostly undone, revealing more tattoos that span his chest. With difficulty, I resist examining them fully and instead turn my focus to his face and those probing, fathomless eyes.
“Little Lupe,” he greets in a guttural tone. “If you know me as well as you claim, you would know better than to lie to me.”
My blood runs cold. Apparently, he isn’t here to reassure my fears that I’ve lost his interest—this isn’t a friendly visit. “About what?” I ask when I find my nerve again.
He laughs, but there’s no mirth in it. “Well, for starters… You can’t be Lupita Sanchez, because she is dead.”
Oh.It’s funny how you can forget so many trivial things while living off the grid. Birthdays of old acquaintances. Holidays. Tax laws.
The fact that you’ve been legally dead for ten years.
I’m too shocked to recover, and he cocks his head in triumph.
“You really didn’t think I’d look into your little story? After all, you dared me to.” He advances a step, and I can’t help it.
I jump back, and my gaze darts to the only exit.
“Don’t play the shy role now,” he scolds, clucking his tongue. Just like that, he’s paces closer, eating up the space between us with calculated, predatory strides. “You were so eager to please me last night—”
“And then you turned me down, if I recall,” I counter, raising my chin. The venom in my tone seems to surprise us both. He raises an eyebrow and, internally, I’m berating myself. Do I really want to piss off the unofficial king of this entire region?
Maybe. Especially if he stands between Franco and me. I’ve already wasted too much ground playing this stupid game. It will take days to track where the plane went. Even longer to find Braulio’s latest hideout.
I don’t have time for delays, not even when presented by a psychotic narco with a power complex.
“You turned me down, Jaguar,” I point out coldly. “Braulio is gone, and our deal is forfeit. You got a ‘quickie’ out of it, though. Unfortunately, I don’t think we have anything left to discuss.”
“Oh, but we do.” He gestures toward a leather couch positioned near a view of the city. “Have a seat.”
I don’t move. My heart is pounding, my palms slick with sweat. All in all, this should be a familiar feeling—déjà vu. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around Diego, but I remember what it was like. A bit like living with a hissing viper poised to strike. There was a reason why he called me his butterfly—I had to be agile always.
Facing Jaguar inspires a different kind of thrill, but I know the fun and games won’t last long. Sooner or later, he’ll turn on me, and I suspect feline fangs hurt far worse than a snake’s.
“I know for a fact that Braulio is gone,” I reiterate, crossing my arms to disguise how my hands shake. “With him, went my only bargaining chip. Frankly, I think we’re both wasting our time.”
“Are we?” He claims the couch for himself, his legs spread wide, hands on his knees. “You certainly didn’t find it a waste of time to fuck me instead of tailing Braulio yourself. Don’t pretend this is about a fucking plane.”
“You’re right,” I snap. “It’s about Franc—my son.”
“That’s another thing.” He holds up a finger as if to keep track of my supposed lies. “According to all public records, Lupita Sanchez never had a son. There is another woman by the name of Sanchez who does, however. A son named Francisco Roberto Rivera. That woman is not named Lupe—though I honestly prefer it. In any case, it’s nice to make your acquaintance, Tiena. I will admit, I prefer you as a brunette than a blond.”
I don’t know what to do. What to say. Technically, he’s right. I fit all the plausible criteria to be only one woman—barring the fact that she’s far more likely to be dead than I am. Still, using her identity puts one more layer between Jaguar and me. Suddenly space from him seems like a very smart course of action to take—besides, coming clean now could provoke him further.
So, I decide to thread the needle as carefully as I can.
“You know the risk I was taking by meeting you alone,” I say. It isn’t quite a lie.