Page 66 of Faded Gray Lines

The heavens opened as I walked toward the dark sedan, but I didn’t run. In fact, I may have even slowed my stride a little, the chilled March rain matting my hair against my cheek and drenching my clothes. I imagined Alex puffing on one of his cigarettes and glaring at me from behind the tinted glass, and I smiled, making sure to walk even slower.

A thick cloud of smoke billowed out of the car as I opened the door and slid in the passenger’s seat. “Let’s make this quick,” I said, staring straight ahead. “I have to be at work by ten.”

Alex wasn’t amused by my dismissive attitude. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t danced in the rain like a fucking moron, we would’ve been done already.”

I twisted around to face him, rage boiling inside me. “And maybe if you hadn’t forced me to be your own personal Donnie Brasco, I wouldn’t be here in the first damn place.”

Chuckling, he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and pointed it at me. “You got balls, kid. I like that. Just don’t flash them around me again, or you won’t like what happens.”

“Oh? What are you going to do, threaten to send me to jail?” I waved a dismissive hand at him. “Sorry, I heard that one already.”

I waited for his response, but he just took a long drag off the cigarette. “What do you have for me? Don’t say nothing because I know for a fact you’ve been with Cortes again.”

“Ah, yes, Caliente. Did your guard dog offer up all the sordid details, or should I give you the recap myself?”

“From what Swenson told me, you were drunker than a sack of assholes. You’re lucky he was there, little girl,” he said, his large body crowding into me. “Eighty-proof lips spill secrets that get people killed.”

I stared daggers at him, fighting back a wave of emotion as Mateo’s warning from yesterday came rushing back.

“I know you think you can’t trust anyone, but holding things back could get people killed.”

Neither warning was veiled. I knew exactly who they referred to and thinking about it made me sick. I came to Houston to protect them. I couldn’t do anything to jeopardize their safety.

However, I also refused to show fear anymore.

“First of all, I’m not yourlittle girl,” I hissed. “I have a name, and if you’re not going to use it, don’t expect me to use yours, Agent Atwood. Secondly, your guard dog almost got me busted. You’re both lucky I think quickly on my feet, sober or not.”

“Speaking of which, I want my coat back.”

“Your coat?”

“Yeah. Swenson pulled that gentlemanly shit with my jacket.”

“Well, I suppose you can pay Mateo a visit and ask him for it.” I smiled.

“You get it for me,” he growled. “Shouldn’t be that difficult considering you’ve become a permanent stitch in his sombrero.”

“How racist of you.”

“You’re quite defensive when it comes to Cortes. Whose side are you on, Leighton?

Memories from last night flooded me. I wanted to do as Mateo asked and trust him, but painful experience was a more powerful teacher than hollow promises. Seeing was believing, and I’d seen all I needed to inked all over his back.

“Mine,” I answered flatly. “However, I do have some information for you. Do what you want with it, but after this, leave me out of it.”

Alex studied me, his gaze impassive. “That remains to be seen, but continue.”

“Hector Diaz is dead. I think he might be connected to the man who was in Luis’s apartment that night.” I waited for the shock to register on his face before adding, “I think the Carreras are involved.”

Alex didn’t flinch. He just sucked on the end of that damn cigarette, squinting an eye at me. “Have you found anything concrete?”

“No.”

“I’m getting real tired of this, Leighton.” He flicked his cigarette out of the crack in his window. “I’m a patient man, but even patient men have their limits.” Pressing a button on his door, he stared straight ahead as the crack in the window disappeared.

Swallowing the panic crawling up my throat, I reached for the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Frantic, I pushed the unlock button, but nothing happened.

Just stay calm.