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Her sister’s silence chilled the air and filled Dorcas with a feeling of dread. She’d seen enough movies to understand what happened when you tangled with organized crime. It was bad. Like getting fed to the gators bad.

She leaned back in the seat and scrubbed her face with her hands. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me. How the hell did you get twisted up with the mafia?”

“Will you quit yelling?”

“Sure, as soon as you start talking.”

Rita crossed her arms and blew out an exaggerated breath, reminding Dorcas of the way she used to look when Mamá put her in timeout. “It’s not the mafia.”

Well, at least there’s that. “Then what is it?”

“I’m...not sure. That’s what I was trying to figure out. All I know is that it involves lots of drugs. And my boss.”

The boss part took Dorcas by surprise. He’d seemed so nice. “Paul Salazar?”

“No, his son Brett. He runs the financial side of the business.”

Dorcas shifted her gaze to the mirror, hoping to make eye contact with Nate, but his focus was fixed on the road. “You should have told me. I could have helped.”

“How? No offense, but you’re just a waitress.”

The muscles along Dorcas’s jaw flexed. In her heart, she knew violence wasn’t the answer, but damn, it sure was tempting. “If I’m so worthless, then why did you hide that key in my apartment? They trashed my place, Rita. And they shot at us.”

“I know. You already told me.”

“I think it bears repeating.”

“I didn’t think they’d go after you.”

“Obviously.”

The lines between Rita’s eyebrows deepened. “I wasn’t implying you’re stupid. You’re not. You’re one of the smartest people I know. I just figured the mayonnaise jar was a good hiding place. Nobody would think to look for the key there, and I knew you and Shailene wouldn’t touch it.”

Dorcas pressed her fingers to her temples, where a headache was beginning to throb. “Well, like it or not, I’m hip-deep in this, so you might as well start talking.”

Chapter 18