How the fuck’d any of them see that? I never opened my purse wide enough. At least, I didn’t think I had. I don’t recall any of them looking down, but one of them must have. I can’t avoid going to the restroom if I don’t want them knowing I heard them.
As the door swings closed behind me, I consider the housekeeper’s uniform I stashed in here when Patrick and I arrived. I hid it beneath the bag in the trashcan. I could switch into that and take off my wig, pop out my color contacts, and scrub off my makeup. That won’t be nearly enough after how closely they stood to me. I also doubt they’d believe a maid came in here without cleaning supplies when there’s such a high-end event going on.
Me
Tres J’s are outside the restroom. They confronted me. Rescue me.
I pray Patrick feels his phone vibrate and looks at it. It feels like forever before there’s a knock on the door.
“Darling, are you all right in there?”
“Just a moment.”
Meno male.Thank God.
I pull open the door, and Patrick’s practically in the doorframe. He angles himself to keep me hidden from the men lurking. I don’t see Alejandro, but he’s probably nearby.
“Are you all right,señora?”
Patrick tries to answer for me. “She’ll be all right. Sometimes the mo?—”
“Mimosas hit me a little hard, sweetheart.”
I speak over him and cut him off. I know the excuse he was about to use. It’s one we’ve used before. But having flashed a tampon, claiming morning sickness won’t work. There’s nothing Patrick and I need to know from the other families, and my shoes are killing me.
“Shall we go?” Patrick wraps his arm around me.
“I was just thinking that.”
Before I can turn away so we can return to the table for my wrap, I lock gazes with Alejandro.
Chapter Seven
Alejandro
My second shadow’s following me again today. She has been since I returned from Belize right before the charity gala. It started right after Chicago and hasn’t stopped. My men still haven’t identified her, even when they’ve sensed her. Even when my cousins confronted her as she followed me toward the restroom, she didn’t miss a beat. They warned me she had a weapon in her purse that looked an awful lot like a stun gun.
The yellow butt gave it away. It surprises me that: A. she’d have a weapon with any distinguishable color on it, and B. she thought she could follow me—even use the weapon on me—at such a large event.
She couldn’t have carried my ass anywhere once I was out. She couldn’t just leave my body there. And there’s not a fucking chance in hell she could’ve interrogated me. I wouldn’t have given up shit, and my family would’ve found me if I’d been gone another five minutes. As is, my cousins were standing guard while I received payment from a council member who needs a few permits rushed through the city planner’s office.
She’s still good at being a ghost.
Except today’s different,chiquita.
I’ve known all along my shadow is the same woman I keep bumping into, but I wasn’t ready to spring a trap until today. I’m in Jackson Heights, meeting with atimador, agallo, and acameleo. An extortionist, a rooster, and a camel. I don’t know why extortionists don’t have an animal name in cartels, but they live up to their name.
They intimidate for a living. A rooster leads a band of men who view laws as optional; they’re selectively obedient to the government. A camel is an OG cartel member; one who’s outlived most of their peers.
All three serve a purpose in neighborhoods like the Heights. They mean my cousins and I usually only come on Tax Day—protection money day—each month. They’re our eyes, ears, and mouths the rest of the time.
“Tiffani with an i” was already at a mom-and-pop pharmacy when I arrived in the neighborhood. I need to learn how she knew I’d be here today since I only scheduled the meeting this morning. When I came out of the flower shop, she didn’t expect me to turn left.
I watched a woman scurry away. I recognized her through the window of the cell phone store. It’s the same place she ducked into the first time I sensed her following me in the Heights a couple weeks ago. She thought it disguised her, but it didn’t. I recognized her profile and her silhouette. After all, I’ve been fantasizing about her for weeks now.
The hair—a wavy brown bob—is a nice touch, but I liked the wig from the yacht the best. Since I’ve seen her wearing ones as part of whatever disguise she’s in, I assume her hair wasn’t natural on the yacht, even though I would’ve said it was that night.
I’m tired of this cat and mouse game. It’s time for Tom to catch Jerry for once. I approach the car she’s in from herpassenger side blind spot. She headed to it while I ducked into a bodega so I could observe her. She’s scrolling on her phone as though she’s looking for something or killing time. She’s caught completely unprepared when she hears the car doors unlock. Then I’m slipping into the front passenger seat with a gun pointed at her.
