Felicia heard a soft knocking. She stood up, twisted her nipples so they’d jump out a little, and answered the door.
Amado came in first and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Then he stepped back and looked her up and down.
“Caramelo mio.”
“You like?”
“Muy caliente.”
“Gracias.”
Felicia noticed that there was something different about Amado.
“Amado, you look great.”
Amado grinned.
“I do?”
“Did you get a haircut?”
“No.”
“Lose some weight?”
Amado turned sideways so she could see that he was missing an arm.
“Chingao! What happened?”
Amado shrugged.
“Accidente.”
“You okay?”
“Sí, todo bien.”
Felicia didn’t know what else to say. Amado seemed himself, even if part of him was now missing.
“You want to meet Roberto?”
“Claro que si.”
Amado went out the door and came back with a nervous young gringo.
“Felicia, meet Roberto.”
Felicia smiled.
“Hola, Roberto.”
“Hi.”
Felicia couldn’t help herself, when she saw the trembling anglo in front of her, she giggled.
“Relax, Roberto. We’re going to have fun.”
Bob nodded.
“Okay.”
Amado patted Bob on the shoulder.
“See you in the morning.”
Amado winked at Felicia and then was gone. Felicia locked the door behind him and then turned toward Bob.
“You like?”
She watched as Bob looked at her, his eyes locking on her with the same kind of fervor she’d seen in Salvadoreños when they saw the Virgin of Guadalupe. She moved for him, walking back and forth, letting him have a good look. Packing every step with an animal sensuality, she twirled in front of him. Teasing him. Allowing her body’s movements to arouse them both. Her breasts swinging freely behind the red veil. Her hips, her ass, her pussy open for him to see. She felt her body, supple and strong, yet heavy like ripe fruit. Her skin starting to heat up, her juices beginning to flow. She was ready to be picked.
She watched him watching her. His lips trembling, his knuckles white as he clutched his hands together.
And then something happened. She saw a look in the young gringo’s eyes that she had never seen before.
Bob fell to his knees and began weeping. Felicia stopped. She was concerned, but kept her distance.
“Roberto, is something wrong?”
“No. Everything’s perfect. Just perfect.”
Tears streamed down his cheeks as he just knelt there, looking at her with that look on his face. He was grateful. He was in rapture.
She sensed a surrender in him. To what, she didn’t know, but she could tell that he wasn’t dangerous. He wouldn’t hurt her or get weird. She went over to him and stroked his hair. She spoke to him tenderly.
“Why are you crying?”
Bob choked back his tears and raised his head to look at her.
“Because you are real.”
A surge of emotion rolled through her body, taking her by surprise. She knelt down next to Bob and wrapped her arms around him. Bob responded, holding her tightly. Felicia could feel his hot, sweet breath against her neck. They stayed that way for a long time.
Norberto drove. They hadn’t even gotten off the freeway when Martin started in on his plan. He laid it out in casual, almost joking terms. Norberto listened intently, following Martin’s logic, step by step.
The plan was simple. Kill Roberto because he was a liability, an amateur who’d easily crack under interrogation. Give Amado’s arm to the police. Let them arrest Amado for murder and then indict Esteban for racketeering. With those two in jail, Martin and Norberto could move in on Esteban’s businesses, take them over like they were doing him a favor, and make millions.
Norberto recognized that the plan was a good one. Martin was a smart guy. He’d figured it all out. Letting the cops come in and do the dirty work was a nice touch. It kept Norberto’s hands clean. Made him a victim of Esteban and Amado’s stupidity. For once he would be the smart one. Norberto liked that. He liked that a lot.
He didn’t, however, like the idea of killing Roberto. He enjoyed having him around. But he wasn’t the kind of man who’d let a thing like affection stand in the way of millions of dollars. He’d gutted people for a lot less.
The only thing that gave him pause was the simple fact that he’d never trusted Martin. Never liked him. Martin had that superior anglo attitude. The same attitude that the ESL teacher had when Norberto beat the living shit out of him. But maybe all anglos had this problem. Maybe they all needed to be taught a lesson. Would the other factions of La Eme let a gringo run the crew? No way, José. What would they think of Norberto taking orders from a gringo? Norberto realized the only way to make this work was to follow Martin’s plan to the letter and then kill him. Besides, if Martin made him kill Roberto, it would make him feel better to return the favor.
Maura woke up. Her body was relaxed. Loose and filled with heat like she’d just spent the last two hours going through an intense set of asanas in her yoga class. The detective’s body was tangled up with hers. She could feel his warmth, the moisture trapped between them where they touched. She could smell the wine on his breath. She stretched and slipped her body out of the knot they’d made.
She thought about what they’d done. She’d never had sex like that. But she realized that it wasn’t like Don had done anything to her. It wasn’t his skill or expertise. It was her mood, her energy. She had fully committed to the act. She climbed out of bed and walked toward the bathroom. She saw his pants puddled on the floor where she’d thrown them. She reached down and felt around for the heavy metal.
Maura shot a furtive glance over at the detective. He was sound asleep. A big man-lump on the bed. She gently pulled the gun out of its holster and held it in her hands. She’d always been afraid of guns. She believed that they should be banned. They were dangerous. They killed people. From a politically correct point of view she shouldn’t even be with a man who had a gun. And she definitely shouldn’t be standing naked in the middle of her bedroom holding his gun.
But she couldn’t help herself. She felt something inside her. A compulsion. An urgency. She held the gun in one hand and touched herself with the other. Breathless, excited, and honestly a little worried about herself, she came in less than a minute.
No matter how deep you dug, the fucking holes were never big enough. That’s the way it seemed to Norberto. He’d buried all shapes and sizes of people out here in the desert and it was never easy. Norberto couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. It always seemed to him that he was digging in the exact same spot where he buried the last guy, yet he never unearthed an old grave while digging a new one. Freaky.
Norberto wiped the sweat out of his eyes and looked around for Martin. Their work was lit by one pathetic beam from a flashlight wedged between a couple of rocks. Luckily the stars were out, so they could see what they were doing without attracting attention. Like there was anyone around to see them.
Norberto heard the crunch of shoes on dirt and turned to see Martin coming back from the car with a couple bottles of water.
“You gonna help me, man, or what?”
“I was thirsty.”
Martin handed Norberto a bottle. Norberto drained it in a few greedy gulps while Martin picked up the flashlight and examined the hole.