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“Same hair, small build, same suit—I’m positive it’s this guy.”

Katlin handed Jesus’s gun to Cain and stood next to Lou. “If he had friends with him when you saw him, Lou, they ditched him tonight. Pepe was enjoying his enchilada all alone.”

“Bitch, you deaf or something? My name no is—” Jesus screamed so loud the veins at the side of his neck bulged. When Cain shot him he squirmed like a trout on a line.

“What’s your name?”

“Pepe.” He rocked in his seat but didn’t lift his bleeding foot. “You call me Pepe if you want.”

“I’m not interested in calling you anything, but I do want to know why you killed my man in the airport.”

Jesus continued to rock and had started to sweat and pull at his hair, messing up his neat ponytail. “I know nothing what you talking about. Por favor, you believe me, I no there.”

“Okay, calm down, I believe you. I’m sure Lou—” As Cain spoke, Lou stepped forward where Jesus could see him. “I’m sure Lou was wrong when he told me you were there, so let’s try something else. Let’s say you were there but you didn’t have anything to do with what happened. You understand?” Cain asked, and Jesus nodded so fast he resembled one of those fake dogs with the bobbing head that people put in their cars. “Just tell me who did.”

“I no there,” he screamed, sounding beyond frustrated. When Cain pulled the trigger again, the gun sounded like a cannon, but Jesus’s screams drowned out the echo. He wriggled in his chair like someone had hooked him to an electric current.

“Is your memory getting any better?” Cain asked him, raising her voice to be heard over his crying. “If it isn’t, then maybe one here,” she put the gun to his shin, “will improve it.”

“It no was me, I swear…it…it was Oscar…Oscar Cardone. He kill that guy.”

“See, you need the right persuasion,” Cain told Lou. “I just have a few more questions so try and focus. What were you doing at the airport?”

“Senor Rodolfo, he send us, but Oscar go crazy and we have to go.” Jesus’s speech was becoming more rapid and he had to stop to throw up. “It hurt so bad.”

“One more thing. Was Anthony Curtis there?”

“Who?” Jesus’s eyes widened then shut as if he realized his mistake. When he opened his eyes again Cain’s finger was moving back to press the trigger. “Esperate.”

The word “wait” was one of the few Cain recognized and she let the gun fall to her side. “It’s late, Mr. Vega, and I’m tired. Not a good combination for you, so cut the crap.”

“You know me?”

“Your mother might have named you Jesus,” she did her best to pronounce it correctly, beginning the name with an h, “but she wasted it on you.” She waved the wallet Katlin had taken from him in his face.

“Anthony, he was there.”

“Were you all waiting for Juan Luis?” The gun was starting to feel heavy in Cain’s hand as she bounced it against her thigh.

“Senor Rodolfo, he send us. I go where the patron say, and then Señor Anthony say kill that man, he see me.”

The explanation was rough but understandable enough to Cain. She kept her eyes on Jesus as she handed Lou the gun. “You need me to stay?”

“I won’t be long, but I want to finish and clean up. It’s the least I owe Rick.”

Cain picked up Jesus’s wallet before leaving with Katlin. To get back to the house quicker, Katlin took the interstate, keeping two miles under the limit. The windows on the Tahoe SUV she’d taken out were tinted dark enough in the back that Cain made no attempt to get down as they drove past the van parked across the street from the gate. In the garage Cain waved to Katlin as she headed to the pool house for the rest of the night.

“Give Merrick my apologies for keeping you out so late.”

“Sure thing,” Katlin said, her voice sounding muffled as she walked away.

“Were you right or wrong?” Emma asked a short time later when Cain got back in bed.

“A little of both, I guess.”

“Then more right than wrong, I hope.”

Emma felt like warm silk against her skin. “Do you know why Napoleon lost his last war?”

“Honey, it’s past three,” Emma said with a trace of a whine.

“Supply chain. He stretched his troops too far for his supplies to reach the advanced divisions. No matter what the other theories are about the subject, that’s my opinion.”

“That’s nice, and that has to do with tonight because?”

“I need to start figuring some of this out, or we’re going to stretch ourselves too thin. There’s no way to keep the feds on the other side of that fence and take down Nunzio Luca and the Luis family all at the same time, without falling short in one or more areas.” Cain rolled onto her back and Emma went with her, covering half of Cain’s body with hers.

“There’s a way. You just haven’t thought of it yet.”

“Thanks, lass. It’s nice to have someone who believes I know what I’m doing.”

The room was still dark, but Emma obviously didn’t have trouble finding Cain’s lips. “I happen to think you’re brilliant, but if you don’t know what you’re doing,” she teased, “then leave me in the dark.”

“That’s a deal,” Cain said, and laughed. Despite the hour she wasn’t tired.

“Since we’re both up, how about we have coffee and talk?”

“How’d you know I wasn’t sleepy?”

Emma rubbed her stomach before she sat up. “I’m your wife, so I can tell the difference between alert and sleepy. Besides, if we get up now we can fit in a nap later today.”

After Emma turned the coffee pot on, they sat together in the kitchen. Their hands were joined as they sat at the small table set in the bay window overlooking the gardens out back, and every so often they’d see one of the guards patrolling, leading a large German shepherd.

“Tell me what you know, mobster,” Emma said.

“Which part?”

“Whichever part you think has the potential to do the most harm.”

The coffee pot sputtered, signaling it was done, and Cain got up to fill the two cups Emma had set out with the added ingredients they liked. She picked them up and cocked her head in the direction of the sunroom. It was still three hours till sunrise, but they’d be more comfortable on the sofa.

“I had a talk with one of Rodolfo’s men tonight, and he admitted to being at the airport with Anthony Curtis. According to him, Anthony ordered the group they were with to kill Rick because he’d seen them waiting for someone,” Cain said. She was filling in the blanks for Emma, but by talking out loud she was seeing the information from a new viewpoint.

“Anthony ordered Rick killed?”

“If that was the case, my plan of action would be easy. No, Anthony’s an ass but he’s not dumb. He’s playing some kind of twisted game of chicken, and at the airport the truck heading toward him creamed him.” She put her cup down, then Emma’s, so they could stretch out. “But Anthony’s not out of this. He’s hurt himself and is going to be more dangerous now.”

Emma put her hand in Cain’s robe and ran her fingers along her stomach again. “Why?”

“Because I don’t believe he ordered anything, but he was there. He watched Rodolfo’s dogs take Rick away and kill him. In Anthony’s world that makes him culpable, and he knows that. But I don’t think he’s aware his employer knows he was there.”

“That’s the other thing I don’t understand. Why was he there?”

“Jesus said Rodolfo sent them, but he didn’t know for what.”

Emma lifted her head and laughed. “Jesus told you? If you got to talk to him you should’ve asked better questions.”

“Funny girl,” Cain said, pinching one of her cheeks. “I don’t buy that, but that’s the story he stuck with no matter how many different ways I asked.”