I answer immediately.
“I’m outside.”
“I know,” she replies. “Around the corner. Black Range Rover. Get in.”
Of course she is.
Lady never half-commits to anything.
I round the corner and spot the SUV instantly. Glossy black paint reflecting sunlight like a mirror. I slide into the passenger seat and shut the door behind me.
The interior smells like leather and vanilla gloss, like money trying to pretend it isn’t blood-stained.
Lady glances at me from behind oversized sunglasses.
“You look like hell,” she says gently.
“Thank you.”
She pulls into traffic like the road belongs to her, cutting between cars like the rules are suggestions.
“You’re not staying there,” she says, talking about my apartment we’re heading toward.
“I don’t have anywhere else.”
“You have me.”
The words land deeper than she probably intends. My throat tightens and I turn my gaze toward the window like I can hide the feeling there.
Miami flashes past in bright murals, bodegas, art déco and pastel buildings that look almost cheerful if you ignore the violence hiding in their shadows. People move fast. Everyone’s dressed like they’re on a stage. Even the broken parts sparkle.
“He chose me,” I say quietly, and even saying it feels dangerous.
Lady glances at me again. “He also chose her.”
I don’t argue.
The truth sits there between us like a bruise.
We pull up outside my apartment building a few minutes later. The door still hangs crooked from last night, the chain dangling uselessly, bent like the Saint Diablo sent didn’t care what it cost to get inside. He could’ve asked for the keys. But Diablo doesn’t think. He just does.
I step in slowly.
For a moment I half expect Rico to be waiting in the dark.
He isn’t.
The apartment feels hollow.
Disco’s big stand is empty. His toys lie scattered across the counter where Magic must have grabbed things quickly. Seed shells dust the corner like snow. The quiet in here feels wrong without Disco’s constant commentary.
While he’s probably chattering in the running, air-conditioned SUV, I scoop up his favorite mirror toy and the rest of his food.
“Carmen,” I mutter under my breath, and I don’t know if I’m saying it because I blame her, or because I can’t stop hearing her voice in my head.
Lady hears me.
“You think she’d touch your place?” she asks.
