He runs his hand through his tangled hair. “Did you come here to bust my balls, or what?”
“I came for my passport.” I hold out my hand like I expect him to comply.
“I told you, you’ll get it when you get some intel on the Bastards.”
“You can forget about that. The Bastards found out you’re my brother and accused me of working for Benito.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, and now they’re threatening me. Are you really going to put your own sister’s life in danger again?” Two could lie and play the guilt game.
“This is bad.”
“You’re telling me. You’ve gotta give me my passport now. I’ve gotta get out of Tijuana.”
“How’d they find out you were my sister? You must’ve screwed up.”
“I didn’t screw up anything. Maybe you shouldn’t have been bragging to Chantel at The Tropics about being Benito’s right-hand man, and how you had me working on the inside.”
“That fuckin’ bitch.”
“Shouldn’t do so much talking when you’re high—people listen.” The long shot worked. I saw him talking to Chantel the last time he was at The Tropics. Of course, Eduardo’s fried brain allowed me to fill in the blanks. “She told Smoke, and he came down on me—hard.”
I use his silence to up the ante. “Do you have any idea what the Royal Bastards do to people who double-cross them?”
“Probably the same as Benito and the cartel will do to me.”
“No, you said yourself, you got close with Benito. He takes you to meetings. He needs you.” Total freakin’ lie, but maybe Eduardo’s huge ego would take the bait.
“True, but . . .”
“So, you can explain it to him. You gotta help me; I’m desperate. Could you honestly go on knowing you had your sister beaten up or worse by the Royal Bastards?”
Eduardo bites his lower lip.
“After all, what’s more important, the health and welfare of your only sister, or Benito?” I was getting pretty good at this guilt thing. Should’ve used this on him years ago.
“Can’t believe that bitch Chantel ratted me out. l gave her a hundred bucks that night.”
Miss Naked barges out of the bedroom. “Who the fuck did you give a hundred bucks to?”
“Mind your own fuckin’ business.” Eduardo dismisses her with a wave of his hand.
“That’s my money you’re giving to some whore.” She lunges at Eduardo, and he pushes her off. “Shut the fuck up.”
He turns his back on her, and she launches herself forward, gripping his shoulders while pounding him with her fists—naked.
If I wasn’t so desperate, it would actually be funny.
He shakes her off, and she falls to the floor with a thud, then scrambles onto her hands and knees. “While I’m out spreading my legs for money, you’re giving it away to some whore.”
“She does have a point.”
Then Miss Naked starts spitting out rapid-fire Spanish punctuated by flying objects at Eduardo’s head.
“Just give me my passport,” I yell above the Spanish curses and the tchotchkes hitting the wall.
Eduardo edges around the room, bobbing and weaving.
