Third Grave Dead Ahead
Page 35
Maybe he stole it.
“Drive up to the garage and flash your lights.”
A little surprised by the level of thought he’d put into his escape, I did what he asked. The garage door opened immediately.
“Pull in and turn off the engine.”
I’d met Amador and his wife, and they were actually quite lovely. Nonetheless, the situation didn’t sit well, like Suzy Dervish in Girl Scouts before she got on Ritalin. “I don’t think I like this plan.”
“Dutch.”
I turned to him. His eyes were glassed over and he had paled. He’d obviously lost a lot of blood. I might could outrun him now.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.
“You’re in no condition to be playing the white knight. Just let me go.”
Regret flashed across his face. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” He reached over and took hold of my arm as if afraid I would bolt.
I’d been considering that very thing. How far could he chase me with his pallor?
“Pull in,” he said.
After taking a deep breath, I drove into the double-car garage and turned off the engine, not happy at all about having done so. The garage door closed—effectively locking me in with a band of criminals. The lights came on, and an entire family of them came out the side door toward us.
Reyes sat up straighter with only a slight wince and flashed a genuine smile at the man opening his door for him, Amador Sanchez. Amador’s wife, Bianca, stood back in anticipation, holding a small boy in her arms and the hand of a little girl. She waved at me through the windshield.
I waved back—apparently Stockholm syndrome worked fast—then watched as Amador leaned in and grasped Reyes in a burly hug.
“Hola, my friend,” he said, patting Reyes’s back aggressively.
Reyes’s jaw clamped shut as he bit back a curse.
“You’re late.” Amador Sanchez was a good-looking man in his early thirties with short black hair, hazel eyes, and the confidence that seemed to be bred into the Chicano culture.
“Blame the driver,” he said from between gritted teeth. “She kept trying to escape.”
Amador glanced at me and winked. “I can understand that, Ms. Davidson. I tried to escape his company for four years.”
Reyes laughed. He laughed. It was the first real laugh I’d ever heard from him. An odd sense of happiness emerged despite my inner turmoil.
“You’re hurt.” The man stepped back to get a look at him.
“Move, Daddy! Let me see.”
The little girl, gorgeous with long black curls, pushed past her father to get a better look. Her tiny brows snapped together. “Uncle Reyes, what happened?”
Reyes grinned at her. “I’m going to tell you something very important, Ashlee. Are you ready?”
Her nod sent curls bouncing around her head.
“Never, ever, ever crawl into the back of a garbage truck.”
“I told you it was a stupid idea.” Amador stood clicking his tongue at him.
“It was your freaking idea in the first place.”
Bianca pushed forward. “Then it was more than stupid.” She leaned over him and tried to peel the blood-soaked coveralls back from the wound, worry lining her lovely face. “I can’t believe you listened to him.”
“I can’t believe you married him.”
She narrowed her eyes on Reyes, though her expression held more humor than admonition. And love. Genuine, unadulterated love, and an unusual streak of jealousy slashed through me. They knew him better than I did, possibly better than I ever would. I’d never been jealous in my life, but lately it seemed to be the only emotion I could conjure when it came to the people in Reyes’s life.
“When you gonna come to your senses and divorce him?” he asked her.
I lowered my gaze. Bianca was nothing if not stunning. Like her daughter, she had huge sparkling eyes and long dark hair that hung in thick curls over her shoulders.
“She’s in love with me, pendejo,” her husband said with a shrug. “Go figure.”
“I’ll marry you, Uncle Reyes.”
He laughed again and smiled lovingly at the girl. “Then I will be the luckiest man alive.”
Ashlee jumped into his lap as her mother screeched in surprise. “Baby, no!”
Reyes reassured her with a wink and gingerly hugged the young girl to him, trying not to get blood on her. He seemed to cherish the feel of it, as if he’d been waiting a long time to be able to hug her. Tears leapt into Bianca’s eyes as she leaned in and kissed his cheek. He reached for her and hugged them both.
When I looked up, Amador stood smiling in earnest appreciation, and I realized I was intruding on a long-awaited family reunion. I shouldn’t have been there. In a thousand ways, I shouldn’t have been there.
Reyes looked down at the young boy now standing beside his mother and offered a smile. “Hello there, Mr. Sanchez.”
“Hello,” the boy said as a set of bashful dimples peeked out from the corners of his mouth. “Are you gonna live with us now?”
Bianca chuckled and picked him up for Reyes’s inspection.
“I don’t think your dad would appreciate that, Stephen.” He took his pint-sized hand in a very official-looking handshake. “You’ve grown enough for the both of us. Guess I can stop now.”
The boy laughed.
“Okay, okay,” Amador said from behind. “Let Uncle Reyes breathe.”
“Drive up to the garage and flash your lights.”
A little surprised by the level of thought he’d put into his escape, I did what he asked. The garage door opened immediately.
“Pull in and turn off the engine.”
I’d met Amador and his wife, and they were actually quite lovely. Nonetheless, the situation didn’t sit well, like Suzy Dervish in Girl Scouts before she got on Ritalin. “I don’t think I like this plan.”
“Dutch.”
I turned to him. His eyes were glassed over and he had paled. He’d obviously lost a lot of blood. I might could outrun him now.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.
“You’re in no condition to be playing the white knight. Just let me go.”
Regret flashed across his face. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” He reached over and took hold of my arm as if afraid I would bolt.
I’d been considering that very thing. How far could he chase me with his pallor?
“Pull in,” he said.
After taking a deep breath, I drove into the double-car garage and turned off the engine, not happy at all about having done so. The garage door closed—effectively locking me in with a band of criminals. The lights came on, and an entire family of them came out the side door toward us.
Reyes sat up straighter with only a slight wince and flashed a genuine smile at the man opening his door for him, Amador Sanchez. Amador’s wife, Bianca, stood back in anticipation, holding a small boy in her arms and the hand of a little girl. She waved at me through the windshield.
I waved back—apparently Stockholm syndrome worked fast—then watched as Amador leaned in and grasped Reyes in a burly hug.
“Hola, my friend,” he said, patting Reyes’s back aggressively.
Reyes’s jaw clamped shut as he bit back a curse.
“You’re late.” Amador Sanchez was a good-looking man in his early thirties with short black hair, hazel eyes, and the confidence that seemed to be bred into the Chicano culture.
“Blame the driver,” he said from between gritted teeth. “She kept trying to escape.”
Amador glanced at me and winked. “I can understand that, Ms. Davidson. I tried to escape his company for four years.”
Reyes laughed. He laughed. It was the first real laugh I’d ever heard from him. An odd sense of happiness emerged despite my inner turmoil.
“You’re hurt.” The man stepped back to get a look at him.
“Move, Daddy! Let me see.”
The little girl, gorgeous with long black curls, pushed past her father to get a better look. Her tiny brows snapped together. “Uncle Reyes, what happened?”
Reyes grinned at her. “I’m going to tell you something very important, Ashlee. Are you ready?”
Her nod sent curls bouncing around her head.
“Never, ever, ever crawl into the back of a garbage truck.”
“I told you it was a stupid idea.” Amador stood clicking his tongue at him.
“It was your freaking idea in the first place.”
Bianca pushed forward. “Then it was more than stupid.” She leaned over him and tried to peel the blood-soaked coveralls back from the wound, worry lining her lovely face. “I can’t believe you listened to him.”
“I can’t believe you married him.”
She narrowed her eyes on Reyes, though her expression held more humor than admonition. And love. Genuine, unadulterated love, and an unusual streak of jealousy slashed through me. They knew him better than I did, possibly better than I ever would. I’d never been jealous in my life, but lately it seemed to be the only emotion I could conjure when it came to the people in Reyes’s life.
“When you gonna come to your senses and divorce him?” he asked her.
I lowered my gaze. Bianca was nothing if not stunning. Like her daughter, she had huge sparkling eyes and long dark hair that hung in thick curls over her shoulders.
“She’s in love with me, pendejo,” her husband said with a shrug. “Go figure.”
“I’ll marry you, Uncle Reyes.”
He laughed again and smiled lovingly at the girl. “Then I will be the luckiest man alive.”
Ashlee jumped into his lap as her mother screeched in surprise. “Baby, no!”
Reyes reassured her with a wink and gingerly hugged the young girl to him, trying not to get blood on her. He seemed to cherish the feel of it, as if he’d been waiting a long time to be able to hug her. Tears leapt into Bianca’s eyes as she leaned in and kissed his cheek. He reached for her and hugged them both.
When I looked up, Amador stood smiling in earnest appreciation, and I realized I was intruding on a long-awaited family reunion. I shouldn’t have been there. In a thousand ways, I shouldn’t have been there.
Reyes looked down at the young boy now standing beside his mother and offered a smile. “Hello there, Mr. Sanchez.”
“Hello,” the boy said as a set of bashful dimples peeked out from the corners of his mouth. “Are you gonna live with us now?”
Bianca chuckled and picked him up for Reyes’s inspection.
“I don’t think your dad would appreciate that, Stephen.” He took his pint-sized hand in a very official-looking handshake. “You’ve grown enough for the both of us. Guess I can stop now.”
The boy laughed.
“Okay, okay,” Amador said from behind. “Let Uncle Reyes breathe.”
