Dirty (RAW Family 2) - Page 17

“Tell you what, missy. You can have my loaner. It’s not much, but I put a lot of work into it. It purrs like a kitten. But I can’t take your car.”

I didn’t notice I’m holding my breath until I start breathing again. I shake my head. “I don’t want it, really. The slips are in the glove compartment. If we do this, it’ll be a straight up trade. If you don’t want it, scrap it or use it for parts. I don’t care. I just don’t want it back.”

He holds out his hand. “Jimmy.”

Placing my small hand in his, we shake. “Ana.”

He smiles big. “Well then, let me get you the keys, and you can go ahead and drive off into the sunset, Miss Ana.”

As he walks inside, a thought makes me shudder.

People like me don’t drive off happily into the sunset.

We careen down jagged cliff sides.

Jimmy the mechanic recommended a nearby motel for the night. He told me to mention his name, so when I arrive and make my way to reception, I’m not surprised to find a man who looks remarkably like Jimmy, only older, waiting for me at the counter.

I ignore the peeling off-white walls and dirty laminate floors. I also ignore the brownish-looking water stains on the ceiling and smile. “Hello.”

Before I get another word in, the elderly man barks, “You Ana?”

At the booming sound of his voice, I jolt, clutching my hand to my chest. And he wheezes out a croaky laugh. “Sorry, sweetness. Lost most of my hearing in ‘Nam. You the girl Jimmy was talkin’ about?”

I simply nod while trying to calm my racing heart. Swallowing hard, I start, “Yes. I need a room for the night—” but am cut off with a barking order, “You’ll stay here two, Miss Ana, no arguments. You look tired as hell, and lucky for you, any friend of my son’s gets a two-for-one special, so tonight’s on the house.”

Oh. This must be Jimmy’s father.

I try once more. “Thank you so much, but I really just need one—”

My body jolts again when the man booms, “Nope!”

Well, all right then. Knowing I’m not going to win this argument, I cave with a thin smile. “Two nights it is.”

The man grins and it transforms his face. His sharp angles soften and he winks. “Knew you’d see reason. Besides, my Jimmy said you needed a place to lay low. So I’m gonna write you up in the book under Jane Smith. No one will ever know you were here.” Blinking in surprise at the kindness of this man and his son, I dip my wobbling chin and nod, wiping away stray tears.

The man coos, albeit loudly, “Hey now.” Stepping forward, he takes my hand in his and pats it softly. “None of that. You’re safe here.” As I look up, he pins me with an almost glare. “No one’s ever gonna hurt you again.”

And it sounds so much like a vow that I find myself believing it.

I soon find out the man’s name is Duane. After he shows me to my room, I can’t help but wonder if he’s given me a nicer one or if they’re all as nice as mine. Sure, the reception area looked a little worse for wear, but the rooms are pretty. A sandy yellow patterned wallpaper covers the walls, giving the effect of light when there is none. The queen-sized bed wears a duvet of pale yellow and white flowers. The bathroom is white tiled and clean, with a strong trace of disinfectant in the air. And that’s okay. It’s fresh. I love that smell. The tan carpets have no stains and feel plush under my bare feet. All in all, the motel is more than I could’ve hoped for.

I expected roaches the size of small dogs. Instead, I got a vase full of yellow and white silk flowers.

The sun begins to set and I yawn. I stand from my sitting position on the bed and walk over to the crisp yellow curtains. Chancing a peek outside, I see the world continuing to live around me. I close the curtains then make my way over to my duffle. I unload all the water bottles and chew on a Twizzler while working on the rest.

The taste of tangy raspberries and sugar linger in my mouth, and I suck on the licorice while checking my new passport.

Maria Gambirella.

That is who I am from now on. Knowing Dino and his trust issues, no one else knows about this passport, about this name. I am officially a new person.

I check the gun, making sure the clip is loaded and check the safety. I then transfer it into my purse. It’s a little large, but all I really need it for is the fear factor. I would never shoot a person, not unless my life depends on it. And you better believe if I had to choose between me and you, you’d lose, every day of the week.

A beeping noise sounds from my purse. My brows furrow as I dig inside. I quickly find the source of the beeping.

My cell phone. And it has a low battery.

Shit.

Finding a piece of paper and a pen, I quickly write down the few phone numbers I need to know, then walk out of my room. Standing over the railing, I rear back and throw down as hard as I can. I watch my cell phone sail through the air a few seconds before it hits the ground with an impact so hard that pieces of plastic and metal ricochet all over.

I head back inside and sit on the edge of the bed by the nightstand. Taking the piece of paper, I hold it up and dial from the phone in my room. It rings four times before the line clicks over. “You’ve reached Doctor Manda Rossi. I’m currently unavailable at this time. If this is regarding a medical emergency and you’re unsure what to do, please visit your local general practitioner or hospital. Remember, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Leave your name and contact information, and I will return your call as soon as I can.” Beep.

I hold the phone in my shaking hands, my heart pounding in my chest. I open my mouth to speak, but then close it. Shaking my head, I try again. “I-uh.” Nothing. I can’t think of anything to say. “Manda, it’s Ana.” What can I possibly say that she doesn’t already know? I try anyway. “By now, you probably know about Dino.” I grip the phone tight. “I just called to let you know I’m okay. I’m safe.” I blink as my racing heart eases. “I’m finally free, Manda.” I breathe a laugh. “I’m free.”

And with that, I gently lay the handset on the hook, disconnecting the call.

I wonder if that will be the last time Manda will hear my voice. I suddenly wish I had said more, something meaningful, something heartfelt. I wish I had told her how much her friendship meant to me and that I wouldn’t have survived as long without her.

I sit on the edge of the bed and ponder some more.

Something tells me that the price of my freedom is going to be high, and I will likely pay with my life.

It’s not bad having friends in high places.

I’ve dealt with a lot of people in my life. I’ve also helped a lot of those people. You could say I’m a decent guy, or if you knew me better, you’d say I knew how to roll.

Do a favor, gain a marker. That’s how people roll in my world.

So I place a call to an old friend, a cop. Casper Quaid isn’t surprised I’ve called. “I was wondering when you’d call it in.”

I fight a grin. “It’s not as bad as you think.”

Casper scoffs. “Is it something I could lose my job over?”

I don’t answer. That being my answer.

Casper sighs. “What am I doing, Julius?”

I respond a bored, “Just triang

ulating a cell phone.”

I knew Casper thought it would be worse. I know this, because as soon as I tell him what I need, he agrees hastily and calls me back within a half hour. “The cell isn’t moving. Your guy is somewhere between these coordinates.” He rattles off the coordinates and I write them down, handing them to Ling. I thank him, and Casper quickly clarifies, “That’s it. We’re done. You don’t call me for favors anymore, right?”

Then, I do smile. “That’s it, man. We’re done. Have a nice life.”

Casper immediately sounds relieved. “Likewise.”

As we drive, we look out for places of interest at the side of the road. The sunlight is starting to fade, and with it, our time. I rub the back of my neck as I drive. Tension causes my neck to stiffen. I can feel Ling’s eyes on me when she pledges, “Hey. We’re going to fix this. Everything’s going to be okay. Okay?”

I rub my neck harder and look on. “Yeah.” My answer comes out hoarse, and neither one of us believes that everything will be okay. How could it? We have one innocent man dead and are currently hunting a woman who will meet the same fate.

No. This is not okay.

Not even close.

Before we left, I had Miguel print out two recent photographs of Alejandra, one of her fresh-faced and smiling, the other with her wearing an oversized pair of sunglasses.

Ling, looking out her side of the road, utters, “Diner.”

I pull over and we step out. Checking my back pocket, I slip out and we walk inside. The plump waitress smiles at us and greets, “Hi, there. We’ve got burgers on the menu tonight. If you’re interested, ask for Deb’s special.”

Approaching the counter, I look the woman in the eye and force a smile. “Ma’am, I’m Detective Jay. Hoping you could help us. We’re looking for this woman.”

I hand the printed photographs of Alejandra to the woman and see recognition the moment her eyes settle on Alejandra’s face.

She hesitates. “She in trouble?”

I shake my head. “Depends on your version of trouble. But to ensure her safety, I need to get to her as soon as possible.”

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