Ann Aguirre - Shady Lady

I took careful note of everything as we passed through the kitchen: old red and white linoleum floor, worn countertops. The windows were all covered, but not with blackout shades like at the cartel safe house, which I found slightly amusing. These were standard venetian blinds. The worn shag carpet started in the hall and continued into the living room, which held sagging yellow furniture.

The two cops went back into the kitchen to talk to Glencannon. Low murmurs reached us, the unmistakable cadence of argument. I paid them no mind. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how worried I had been. But Jesse was sitting up in an easy chair, watching network TV on an old set using a pair of rabbit ears.

Shannon went on into the bathroom. I didn’t blame her. After what we’d been through, a shower sounded heavenly. But I had other business first.

“Corine,” Jesse breathed.

He started to get up and then clamped a hand to his side. Still, he was stubborn enough to bust his stitches, so I went to him instead. Perching on the arm of his chair, I gave him a careful hug and rested my head against the top of his head; his hair smelled clean and lemony. He wound his arms around my waist, and a tremor shook through him.

“You’re looking better,” I said softly.

He raised his face, bitter-chocolate eyes searching mine. “I don’t much like wondering what’s happening with you. This emotional-silence thing sucks.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Well, maybe I did. We’d fought about it in Kilmer, how I didn’t like him to be able to have insight about me that I hadn’t shared. How I needed privacy. And now we stood on equal ground. I couldn’t pretend to be sorry about that, only that he’d been hurt trying to protect me. I couldn’t let that happen again, no matter what.

“I know.” Lacing his hands in my hair, he tugged my head down for a kiss. I fell into it, appreciating his warmth and gentleness. I might not love him yet, but there was something sweet and delicious like hot homemade apple pie. “So you met my mama and my dad. What do you think?”

“About what?”

“Well, I’m going to look an awful lot like him in thirty years. You’ve just glimpsed the future.”

“He was weathered and handsome. Just like you’ll be.”

It was certainly true. Some men got doughy as they aged; others acquired a distinguished patina of interesting lines that only made them more appealing. Jesse Saldana would fall into the latter category.

“Hearing that, I could almost forgive what you’ve put me through.”

“Almost.” I stood up and paced a couple steps away.

Glencannon left; I heard the unmistakable slam of the back door. The other two cops remained in the kitchen, talking in low voices. Maybe I was just paranoid but I didn’t like the whisper of collusion.

He smiled at me. “Joking. I’m happy you’re all right, though I’m wondering how you got the lieutenant to bring you here.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” I muttered. “And that’s the thing. . . .” In one quick rush, I explained the events leading up to our inclusion in his protective-custody detail. I finished with, “Jesse, I’m so sorry about your ride. The apartment was bad enough, but damn, I wreck everything of yours I touch.”

“Come here.”

A touch reluctant, I resumed my seat on the arm of his chair. “Okay.”

He tilted my chin down with his fingertips so he could look me in the eyes. “The only thing that matters—the only thing—is that you’re safe, sugar. But I wish I could’ve seen some of your fancy driving. You must’ve been magnificent.”

Right then, it caught up with me, and a shiver of reaction set in. “I don’t know about that. I just had to protect Shannon and Butch.”

“You did great. And you did right in going to Glencannon.”

“Well, I didn’t want this .”

“This is probably best,” Jesse said. “The police department will handle Montoya.”

If they did, at the very least, Escobar would refuse to pay me, despite all my time and trouble, and Montoya wouldn’t spend long enough in prison to end this mess. He’d just get out, madder and more determined than ever. Men like him almost never did hard time; they found some sucker to sacrifice and walked away clean. So if Jesse thought I planned to stay here quietly, he didn’t understand me.

Because I knew we’d never agree, I said nothing. Instead I stroked his hair and luxuriated in his heat. He wasn’t a perfect fit; I had too much lawlessness in me. But with anybody, there would be sacrifices and compromises. I was ready to grow up.

When Shannon got out of the bathroom, I took my turn. I made it quick. The bathroom was tiny and full of ugly, crumbling tile; the plumbing groaned throughout my shower. I got out, wrapped myself in a towel, and padded down the hall. Our things had been stacked in the last bedroom. I supposed we were expected to share, and that was fine. We wouldn’t be here long enough for it to matter.

Unfortunately, we hadn’t been able to hide a cell phone. Glencannon didn’t give us the privacy, and they conducted a thorough search of our bodies and belongings. The spell books comprised my sole asset at this point. I’d passed them off as historical journals, and they left them with me. After curling up on the bed, I immediately went to work paging through my grimoires. There had to be a spell that could get me out of here. I hesitated to use sleep, because that would leave Jesse vulnerable. Likewise, I couldn’t confuse Clemsen and Rudd.

Shannon paused in the doorway. “Are you doing what I think you are?”

“No,” I said automatically. “Do me a favor. Keep Jesse occupied.”

“If he could move without pain, he’d already be in here checking on you. He knows you better than you think.”

“Shit. Go distract him.”

“How am I supposed to do that? Sit on his lap and call him Daddy?”

Now, there was a disturbing image. “No, but feminine distress should work. Can you summon some tears?”

“You owe me,” she muttered, stomping back toward the living room.

“Any advice?” I asked Butch.

The little dog sat perched at the top of the vermilion grimoire, watching me turn the illuminated pages. He yapped once, tail wagging.

“Really?” Intrigued, I got out the Scrabble tiles and laid them on the bed.

He bounced into motion and pawed them like crazy. When he finished, they read: Stay here dont die.

I laughed softly. “One of these days, you’ve got to explain to me how you can do this stuff.”

Butch gazed at me like that should be obvious, but right then I had other concerns. I returned to the grimoire and kept trying. I found spells to bring back a lover, for luck and health, charms to keep milk sweet and to drive away gophers.

I sighed. “ Really , Mom? Gophers?”

“What’re you doing?” Rudd stood outside the bedroom door, peering at me.

“Reading.”

“We’re making frozen pizza. Would you like some?” So this was the good cop. I could easily see Clemsen playing the other role.

“No, I’m fine.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, but it seemed irrelevant.

“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Mutely I nodded and moved on to the blue spell book. The ones in here were complex, and required will and power, not special ingredients. At last I located one but it would affect everyone equally, everyone but me.

Is this a good idea? Given how I’d overpowered the trust me spell, there was a good chance I’d screw it up. I had no training, and this was an advanced charm. Yet I didn’t see a better option. If I don’t get out of here, if I don’t end this, then more people will be hurt. So I’ll accept the consequences, however dire.