Dewi finally remembered to fasten her seatbelt and did her best not to order Joaquin to pull over so she could drive.
Then Joaquin let out a snort.
“What?” Dewi growled.
He tapped his head, and that’s when she realized she still wore the obnoxiously mint green helmet she’d also snatched from the tourist.
She ripped it off and resisted the urge to beat Cordoba with it. Instead, she dropped it on the floor behind her seat. “FYI, dude, we broke into your place looking for info. Don’t report it to the police, just fix the damned door. We didn’t take anything. And if anyone does rob you, well, sorry about that. Serves you right for running when all wefucking wanted to do was ask you questions, you asshole!” She was screaming by the end of that.
Cordoba shrank from Dewi as far as the rear seat would allow.
“Why thefuckdid you run from us?”
“I-I owe child support to my ex and she’s pregnant again. Her brothers are in a gang. From a distance, I thought you were them!”
“Fuckme,” Joaquin muttered. “This day just gets better and better.”
That’s when an incoming call to Dewi’s phone sounded over the car’s hands-free system.
Ken.
Dewi accidentally answered it when she meant to send it to voicemail.
She made a shushing sign to Cordoba. “Hey, honey,” she said in a forced cheery tone. “What’s up?”
“Are you guys on your way back yet? I thought you said you’d let me know when you were?”
She spotted the way Joaquin pressed his lips tightly together, trying not to laugh. “Had to wrap up a few loose ends,” she said. “And we haven’t had lunch yet.”
“Easy-peasy,” Joaquin muttered.
She punched him in the thigh.
“Ow!”
“Is… Is everything okay?” Ken asked. “You sound stressed.”
“Yeah everything’s fine, sweetie. Gotta go, we’re driving, traffic’s bad. Love you!” She hung up just in time because despite rubbing the spot on his thigh, Joaquin started braying with laughter.
“You suck,” she said.
He shook his head. “How’d you just lie to him?”
“I didn’t.”
“You did. You said you were driving.”
“No, I specifically saidwewere driving. It was a collectivewe, like a royalwe, which includes you and Running McFuckwad in the backseat. Trafficisbad—it’s fucking Miami,duh. Andthismotherfucker”—she hooked a thumb back at him—“is a loose goddamned end.”
The guy whimpered.
“No, you’re not dying,” Dewi growled at him. “As long as we find that baby safe and sound. And you don’t pee or shit or puke in my car.” She glanced back at him. “Why thehelldoes Fawny have you in her phone as ‘Super-D’?”
Joaquin groaned. “I told you I don’t want to know.”
The man still cowered from Dewi, which was fine with her. “Sh-she said she really likes riding my di—”
“Never mind!” Dewi snapped. “We get it.”
