“Then I can’t make half the delivery tomorrow,” he said. “And all our plans go to shit.”
“Then you should handle it. I’ll just stay hidden.”
“Not here. People are coming and going.” He glanced toward the ceiling. “We take breaks on the roof. You could go up there, because I assure you, no one’s taking a fucking break tonight. There are lights too. You still have those keys?”
I held up the set. He picked through them until he found the one he was looking for, then walked by me to open the door to the expansive warehouse. He flipped some switches and fluorescent lights flickered on as I entered.
My heels echoed through the building that stored stacks of massive wooden crates and heavy-duty machinery. Attached to one wall was an office with storage lockers. “What is all this?” I asked.
“Calavera contraband. Artillery. Semi-automatics, grenades, drones, IEDs—that kind of thing.”
I turned in a circle. No wonder this place was so dangerous. “Where’s it all going?”
“Most of it is coming. Smuggled from up north so criminals like us can organize and protect our product. From each other and from law enforcement.” He pointed across the warehouse to a staircase. “Just take that up to the access door on the roof. Up there, you’ll see lounge chairs and stuff.”
“What if someone comes up?”
“Nobody else has keys to this side of the warehouse except me and Cristiano’s right-hand man, who’s not here tonight. But the door locks automatically behind you, so just in case, take the keys.” He kissed me quickly. “I’ll be up shortly.”
I held Diego’s jacket closed as I crossed the room, climbed the stairs to the second level, and continued up a short access hall. At the end stood a single door with a long glass window big enough for me to glimpse the sky.
I stepped out onto the roof. Outdoor LED lights guided me through rows of solar panels and across a helipad.
I found an area of loungers and camping chairs where the men must’ve taken their breaks. I found a sarape blanket and sat under it near a portable grill. Clusters of stars were the only light in the black, horizonless desert. Behind me, the town twinkled. In that direction, light and life thrived in the dark while the desert had killed the most resilient of men. Why had I chosen to face the direction that was nothing but desert? Why confront Cristiano when being on his radar could only lead to trouble?
Darkness called to me.
That didn’t mean I had to answer.
It’d been too easy to enmesh myself in Cristiano’s game. Too natural to succumb to the shadows that swarmed my nightmares. Cristiano had said this life lived in me like a heart. Maybe that was true, but hearts could be replaced. A brain couldn’t. I wasn’t going to walk toward darkness like my mother had.
I leaned my head back. As adrenaline from my emotional and mental warfare with Cristiano wore off, I drifted in and out of consciousness until my phone dinged with a text from Diego that he was on his way up.
I went to meet him at the door. He slipped his arms inside my jacket and scooped me up by my waist, walking us backward. “Nice up here, isn’t it? You wouldn’t expect it to be.”
“I can count every star.”
“Funny, I’m seeing stars too . . .” He captured my mouth for a kiss. “Put your legs around me.”
He lifted me by my ass, and I locked my ankles at his lower back. “Did you fix the engine?” I asked.
“It’s all good.” He pecked me. “Everything’s on schedule to leave late-morning.” His lips brushed the underside of my jaw. “Border patrol is expecting us. Law enforcement is standing by to escort us.” He moved his mouth down my neck, warming me with his breath. “We’re closer and closer to freedom.”
That explained his sudden good mood. I raised my eyes to the sky as he sucked and nibbled the tender skin along my throat. “We’re so close,” I said, nearly moaning.
“We are.”
“And we’ve been so good.”
I felt his smile against my skin. “We have.”
“Almost saintly.”
He laughed hotly into the curve of my neck. “I didn’t know saints kissed this way.”
My dress inched up the backs of my thighs. He helped it along until my thong was almost exposed. I lifted up to readjust, and the length of him pressed solid between my legs, eliciting my gasp and his pained groan. He wanted me. He was ready for me.
Maybe it was being out in the open, but I was hit with the uneasy question of what my mother would think if she was looking down now. Would she understand Diego and I were meant to be as she and my father had been? They were younger than me when they married. And Diego’s optimism was contagious. Finally, I felt as if he wanted to start over in California more than he needed the constant threat of danger that made cartel life both treacherous and exhilarating.