Page 26 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name

But Daniel knew Terry’s problem with females didn’t just stem from his time in the army. The big man had some grade A trust issues with people in general. His paranoia was legendary. And he insisted an internal threat posed the greatest danger to their operation. He believed it would come from someone they trusted, someone they let into their inner circle.

Someone like a girlfriend.

Terry was still observing Daniel, waiting for a response.

Daniel swallowed something sharp in his throat. Then he said, with as much nonchalance as he could muster, “Nah. Nothing like that.”

Terry chuckled, like he’d said something funny. “I’m glad to hear it.” He took another drag from his cigarette. “‘Cause you know it don’t pay to let anyone get too close, right? Life we lead, they just end up getting hurt.” He blew out a stream of smoke. “Sometimes real bad.”

Under his soft tone, the threat was loud and clear.

He took another deep pull, the ember flaring close to his knuckles. “If you got needs, there’s plenty of girls at SINoritas. And you know the best thing about hookers, right?”

You get to fuck them. They don’t get to fuck you.Daniel intoned the words in his head in perfect sync with the ones that came out of Terry’s mouth.

Terry dropped his cigarette butt, grinding it into the dirt with his heel. “Take your little brother along. Introduce him to Gabriela. She’ll put some hairs on his chest.”

Daniel managed a smile but mentally deleted everything he’d just heard.

Terry clapped an enormous hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Oh, nearly forgot to tell ya. Whole point of this little meet and greet. You’re doing a run to Philly tonight.”

Daniel stared at him blankly. “Philly.”

“Big shipment coming in tonight. I’m gonna go round up Milo. You head back to base and start unloading. Make sure it’s ready to go by eleven.”

Shit.The Philly run was a two-day round trip. Stuck in a van. With fuckingMilo.

Terry turned and ambled away. Then he halted and looked back. “By the way,” he called. “I gotta ask. Did you deal with that little loose end we had?”

Daniel’s gut clenched. He was talking about Julia.

He opened his mouth to ask, but no words came out. Lying to Terry was a bad idea. Telling him the truth was worse.

No, Terry, I didn’t “deal” with her. I watched her dance, which was easily the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I kissed her by my car, and now I can’t get her out of my mind for longer than two seconds.

And no, I’m not dealing with any of it.

Since remaining silent would be worse than lying, he cleared his throat and mumbled, “Yeah, she ain’t a problem no more.”

Terry nodded. Then he gave Daniel a wide grin. The man had surprisingly white teeth for someone who smoked as much as he did. His eyes, however, held a coldness. It made Daniel think the man didn’t quite believe him.

He turned and kept walking, with that rolling gait of his, like he was wading through deep water.

Daniel watched him go. A spider of fear crawled up his neck. He didn’t like that Terry was still thinking about the girl in his trailer. And he really didn’t like him referring to her as aloose end.

What he hated, though, was knowing that for the next two days, he was going to be eight hundred miles away from her.

And Terry, less than forty.

* * *

El Paisano Restaurante Mexicano was wedged between a laundromat and atienda de licoreson the West Side. Thetaqueríahad no piped-in mariachi music, no waiters pushing oversized margaritas or novelty sombreros. Just good food, the kind that didn’t need gimmicks. The kind that made the place packed wall-to-wall despite the scuffed floor and plastic chairs.

Daniel stepped inside, setting off a small bell above the door. Conversations faltered as heads turned. He felt their gazes slide over his arms, down the inked skin of his hands. A few of the regulars—men who’d seen his kind before—went back to their food. Others took a little longer, eyes lingering in wary recognition.

Martín Tostá didn’t bother with pleasantries when Daniel approached the counter. He just stood there, wiping his hands on his canvas apron, his sharp black eyes taking him in with something between indifference and contempt.

Daniel leaned his elbows on the counter. “¿Dónde está mi hermanito?”