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Back in my room at the convent, aching head propped on a pillow against my headboard, I try not to flinch at the glaring condemnation in my brother’s eyes.
Hard not to do, since he’s seated on a wooden chair by my bed, looking equal parts agitated and worried. If it was only anger, I might’ve had a shot. I look away.
“I’m pulling you,” he says again.
“No.” I look back and wag a finger at him, electing to not shake my head in emphasis because this concussion has made me so woozy. That’s what happens when a two-hundred-pound man slams a gun into the side of your skull. Still, it was worth the wound. If Geraldo hadn’t hit me, Sean never would’ve been able to knock the gun from his hand. “You’re overreacting, hermano.”
“The fuck I am. Your cover is blown.”
“No, it’s not. Sean never mentioned me to the policia. He told them that, after news broke about bodies being found in the desert; he’d become more vigilant He said he’d followed Geraldo because he’d been acting oddly–-speaking full sentences when he was supposed to have a brain injury, making trips out at all hours. Now, the policia have their men, the records of the customers—thanks to Armand’s meticulous notes––and the investigators are slowly identifying the women and notifying families.”
Tony frowns. “What about Walid? He’s got no idea who you are?”
“None. And now that Sean is working directly for Walid, we have more access to the traffickers than before. Getting information will be more straightforward. I’m established here. Visiting Sylvia, as the other sisters now do to pray with her and help heal her broken heart, means I can come and go from his building without suspicion.”
“This isn’t about where you landed. It’s about where you’ve been. You got sloppy. You missed the guy.”
Verdad. True enough. “How was I to know that Geraldo and Armand were brothers? They didn’t look anything alike.”
Tony holds his arm next to mine.
I harrumph. “Eso es diferente. We’re adopted. And that wasn’t the only way they were different. There was literally no way to tell—”
“Bullshit. You missed it. Geraldo set you up. He gave Sean the coordinates, right? That’s what you said.”
“Sí. But hindsight is twenty-twenty.”
It all makes sense now that I know Armand and Geraldo’s story. Armand had his real birth certificate in his home. His real name was Ramiro Chavez. Research enabled us to find information on his mother, also listed on the certificate. She was murdered. The wordwhorewas carved over and over again on her body.
He might’ve seen the murder and been scared enough to want to align himself with the killer and not the killed, or maybe he committed the murder. Either way, after that death, the sixteen-year-old Armand carried his infant brother all the way here from Panama. The child had barely been alive when they’d gotten here. He’d anonymously given the boy to the sisters, knowing they’d take care of him, then had found a way to survive by working with the cartels in town. Until he’d met Walid.
The rest I’ve deduced myself. It seems Armand had been poisoning his brother’s mind for years. In doing so, he made another like himself. And as Sylvia—God grant her peace—became older, Armand took a greater interest in rearing his brother. Two ruthless brothers not unlike Walid. Like draws like, Momma always says.
“Admit it,” Tony says. He is very stubborn.
“Verdad. It appears Geraldo tried to kill Sean and me.”
“Appears? Geraldo led you in there, then set off the explosion.”
“Ah,” I say, holding up a finger. “So Ididn’tmiss any tripwire. That’s one thing I did right.”
“You took coordinates from the killer. A guy who, knowing where you’se were going, camped close by and waited.”
“Sí. It was a mistake. But not enough reason to pull me.”
Tony’s eyes nearly pop from his head. I’ve seen him mad before, but not like this. This is a different kind of mad. This is a “you scared me senseless” kind of mad. That is why I’m managing to hold onto calm, even though he’s being a pendejo.
Tony drags a hand down his face. “All it takes is one mistake, D. That’s it. One. You and Justice are going to be the death of me.”
That’s highly offensive. Despite her skills with a gun, Justice is a hot head that refuses to listen to others. “I’m not like Justice.”
Tony rolls his head around on his neck. “You’re more like her than you think. If you weren’t, you’d leave.”
“I’m not done here.”
“You are. Thanks to you, Momma and The Guild got Rosa and Carlos into Canada with their relatives. The legit way. Not Sean’s way.”
“Hey,” I say, on the defensive, though ‘m thrilled to hear Rosa and Carlos are doing well. She has a job at a daycare where Carlos goes. “He was doing the best he could for a woman he feared would be hurt in a very unfortunate situation.”
