Page 62 of El Malo
Rosa
Idon’t know what’s gotten into Javier, but it makes me nervous. I’m questioning what to do next.
He’s a killer.
When he finds out I’m with the CIA sent to track his every movement, he’ll no doubt kill me. He’s told me without saying those exact words. It will happen.
The woman in me craves to simply ignore my duties. Play pretend. Act as though I never worked for the agency. That I was always a little ol’ maid.
“May I use your phone?” I croak out to the cashier.
He’s old and seems used to the request because he hands me a portable. “If you’re calling long distance, I’ll need to know the number so I can look up the cost to bill you.”
I give him a clipped nod. “United States.”
“Make your call,” he grunts.
With shaking hands, I start to dial the number I was forced to memorize. Agent Stokes’ number. I’m to call him the moment I can. Those were his orders over four years ago. If I lost contact with Michael, I was to get ahold of them when I could. I’m still baffled as to how come they haven’t swooped in to save me. It’s as though everyone is holding their collective breath, waiting for just a few more scraps of information. I’m assuming Michael didn’t tell them he raped me, so maybe they don’t even know I’ve lost contact. Whatever it is, I need to get ahold of them and see.
I can’t go on like this forever.
Now, too much is at stake.
I’m stuck in limbo and it’s not fair to any of us.
With tears in my eyes, I dial the number. Before I hit the last number, I hit the end button. I can’t do this. Thoughts of flying back to the US, working at a desk in Langley, spending every night alone while Javier sits in jail weighs heavily on me.
I don’t want that.
Not at all.
Sniffling, I hand the phone back to him. I browse the store and find what I want to purchase. It doesn’t cost me much and I shove it into my purse. Taking a deep breath, I swipe my tears and head outside. I find Javier not waiting for me on foot but inside his Thunderbird. The sun catches the red paint job and sparkles like glitter. He’s absolutely breathtaking seated on the white leather. A picture of perfection.
Mine.
But he doesn’t look at me.
His focus is straight ahead, his jaw set. I climb in beside him and clutch my purse tightly.
“I got it,” I squeak out and smile at him.
He doesn’t reply as he guns it. I quickly fasten my seatbelt as panic rises in my chest. Did he see me calling? He has no idea who I’d be calling. I’m freaking out for no reason.
“I want to show you someplace special,” he says, his voice cold and lacking inflection. He glances my way, but I can’t see his eyes hidden behind his fashionable sunglasses.
I reach for his hand, but he grips the steering wheel with both hands, denying our connection. “Javier, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
He flashes me a smile, but it doesn’t reveal his dimple. It’s not the good kind of smile. It’s the kind of smile that feels threatening.
“I want to go home,” I choke out.
“Do you now?”
“Yes. Let’s just go home and get in the hot tub.”
He turns down a street that’s lined with trees. A kid runs out into the street after a red ball and he slows to let them pass. Then, he drives until we come to a clearing blocked off by several big rocks.
“Get out,” he snaps.