Caught in the Act Page 6

  Her roommate.

  “Oh,” he said, finding that mental picture much more palatable.

  She flushed darker, avoiding his gaze. “Sorry.”

  Adam had noticed them touching yesterday, but he hadn’t read anything into it. Women were always hugging and kissing each other. Now he found himself wallowing in speculation. Even with a boyish cap on, the maid was young and pretty. Were the lovely ladies more than friends?

  “Well,” he said, thrown for a loop, “good luck with that.”

  “Thanks.”

  He grabbed the gift bag by the side, ignoring the delicate little handles, and said goodbye. Outside, when he was thinking clearly again, it occurred to him that she was probably not having a lesbian affair. Anything was possible, and he’d enjoy reflecting on the matter at his leisure, but he suspected her of lying to get rid of him.

  Just as she’d unbuttoned her blouse to distract him.

  Again Adam reevaluated his opinion of the very sexy Ms. Strauss. Perhaps she wasn’t so innocent after all.

  Although her sister was always late, Kari rushed to get to the mall before sunset, dropping Maria off at home on the way. If Sasha showed up on time and Kari wasn’t there, she might not wait.

  The store Sasha had recommended, Smash, offered an eclectic mix of ripped jeans and punk rock couture. Kari glanced around for her sister, wincing at the ear-bleeding music an employee had turned up full blast. No one else seemed to notice the noise. Two teenage girls with pierced eyebrows were browsing the racks, heads close together. At the front counter, a young woman flipped through a magazine, her arms sleeved in tattoos.

  Sasha wasn’t here.

  Kari shifted the purse on her shoulder, feeling out of place. She liked skulls as much as the next girl—Zócalo was decorated with them—but these clothes didn’t suit her at all. Metal-studded bracelets and black leather miniskirts weren’t her style. On the back wall, there was a giant poster of a woman screaming into a microphone, her mostly nude body covered in sweat. She was wearing combat boots, black panties, and electrical tape.

  Kari slipped back outside, checking her phone. No messages.

  The smell of hot pretzels made her stomach twist, but the smoothie stand looked inviting. She was about to cut through the crowd to buy one when Sasha appeared, all smiles. Kari made a sound of delight and embraced her, holding tight.

  Sasha felt painfully thin in her arms, almost brittle. Unlike Maria, there was no hint of strength or sinew. Sasha held herself stiff and aloof, seeming uncomfortable in her own skin. She didn’t like being touched anymore.

  Kari pictured one of the fashionable skeletons on her shelves and her throat closed up. She released Sasha with great reluctance, her eyes flitting over her. She was wearing designer jeans with a low-cut tank top and a fitted jacket, the sleeves shoved up to her elbows. Her breasts were the only substantial part of her body.

  Lifting her gaze, Kari pasted on a friendly smile. Even scary skinny, Sasha was gorgeous. Her cheekbones stood out in sharp definition, and her pale blue eyes were striking, accentuated with charcoal shadow and sooty mascara. Kari didn’t mention Sasha’s noticeable weight loss. “What did you do to your hair?”

  Sasha lifted a hand to her shaggy mane, which now sported black and platinum streaks. “Just added some extensions. Do you like it?”

  “It suits you,” Kari said, feeling hopeful. Sasha experienced periods of depression, in which she didn’t leave Moreno’s compound for weeks at a time. The fact that she’d showed up at all was a good sign.

  Sasha gestured toward Smash, moistening her lips. “Let’s shop.”

  “Can we go to another store? I already looked in there.”

  A crease formed between her brows. “I thought you wanted something sexy.”

  “I do,” she said. “But nothing black. It’s summer.”

  Sasha stared at the racks inside Smash, her eyes glazed. Kari knew she was high; she always was. At one point Kari had refused to see her unless she was sober, but she’d given up on that ultimatum. Sasha’s company was unbearable when she needed a fix.

  “What about there?” she said, pointing Sasha toward another trendy boutique. Kari didn’t really care where they shopped—there was no date to go on—but she wanted to talk to Sasha, and loud music made that impossible.

  “Will you try on the slinky red dress?”

  Kari followed her gaze to the next store over, Hot Mess. There was a bald mannequin wearing crimson in the display window, but the store didn’t look half as outrageous as Smash. “Sure,” she said, compromising. “Let’s check it out.”

  The red dress wasn’t available in Kari’s size, so they kept looking. Sasha paused at another rack, making a murmur of approval. “This one,” she said, holding up a floor-length burgundy silk gown. “The color suits you better than red.”

  Kari agreed but thought the dress was too revealing for her. She couldn’t leave the house in any garment that dipped that low in the back. “Why don’t I just go naked?”

  “You’ll have to, underneath,” Sasha murmured, fingering the material.

  Kari gave her sister an incredulous look. “People do that?”

  “Sure, with certain fabrics. It’s no big deal, unless you’re a prude.”

  She glanced at the price tag. The dress wasn’t more expensive than the others, and she didn’t have time to be selective. If buying this glorified lingerie would put Sasha in an amenable mood, it was worth the investment. “I’ll try it on,” she said. “Do you like that red one? You should get it. My treat.”

  Sasha’s face brightened. “Really?”

  “Sure. See if it fits.”

  Her sister made a beeline for the red dress, grabbing one in her size, which had probably whittled down to less than zero. Kari, who’d always been curvier, no longer envied her sister’s rail-thin figure. Sasha needed to gain at least ten pounds to look healthy.

  They went to the changing room together, choosing side-by-side stalls.

  “Tell me about this guy you met,” Sasha requested.

  “Well, he came into my store twice this week. We struck up a conversation and he seemed nice.”

  “Nice? I thought you said he was hot.”

  “He is,” she said, pulling off her tank top.

  “Scruffy or clean-cut?”

  “Clean-cut.”

  “Tall or short?”

  “Tallish.”

  “Athletic, you said?”

  She unhooked her bra, picturing the hard muscles under Adam’s soft T-shirt. “He looked very fit.”

  “What was he buying?”

  “Gifts for his mom and sister.”

  “Are you sure he’s straight?”

  “Of course,” she said, affronted. “Why else would he ask me on a date?”

  “Did he check you out?”

  “I think so,” Kari said, almost certain she’d felt Adam’s eyes on her backside. She glanced over her shoulder into the mirror, wondering if he’d liked what he saw. When she noticed her panty line, her cheeks heated. She hadn’t realized the nude lace was visible.

  “I told you the bikini wax would work,” Sasha said.

  Kari slipped out of her skirt, embarrassed. Sasha had insisted that Kari would feel sexy and carefree, and attract men like bees to honey. It had the opposite effect. Being almost bare down there had only made her feel lonely and self-conscious.

  Desperate to be touched.

  The silk dress was cool against her skin, slippery smooth. A plunging neckline revealed the inner curves of her breasts. The skinny straps that held up the bodice looked unreliable. Crossing her arms over her chest, she checked out the rear view. It dipped low in back, almost to the point of indecency.

  “Are you going to stay in there all day? Let’s see it, hot stuff.”

  Flushing, she walked out to show Sasha. There was a three-paneled mirror at the end of the changing area. When Kari saw their reflections, she forgot about modesty. Sasha looked like a ghost. The crimson d
ress fit perfectly, accentuating her pale skin and spare physique. Kari could see her ribs, her shoulder blades, the jut of her hip bones.

  More important, she could see the telltale bruising on the crook of her arm, along with tiny red pinpricks. Track marks.

  “Oh my God,” Kari said.

  Sasha smiled. “Isn’t this dress fabulous? I love the color. Yours looks great, too. So much sexier than your usual style.”

  Kari couldn’t speak; her heart was breaking.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she managed, swallowing hard. “I’m just … really hungry. Let’s buy these and go to dinner, yeah?”

  Sasha’s dress was twice as expensive as Kari’s, but she paid for both without complaint, and they walked to one of the nicer restaurants at the end of the mall. They talked a little about Kari’s work, a subject that never failed to bore Sasha.

  Kari didn’t mention the track marks during dinner. Sasha needed every bite she consumed, and often refused meals when she was upset. After the plates were taken away, Kari accompanied Sasha outside to the smoking terrace. “Some of Carlos’s men came to see me,” she said, watching her sister light up.

  Sasha took a quick drag. “Why?”

  “They said you owe a lot of money.”

  Her eyes darted around the deserted terrace, making sure they were alone. Kari had been on edge all evening, for obvious reasons. Now she wondered if they were being watched. Every piece of shrubbery looked like the outline of a man’s shoulders. “That’s bullshit,” Sasha hissed. “I pawned a few pieces of jewelry. So what?”

  Kari’s head swam with nausea, although she hadn’t been able to eat much. “Whose jewelry?”

  “Carlos gave it to me.”

  Kari didn’t know how these arrangements worked, but she suspected that Carlos intended for Sasha to wear the jewelry while she was acting as his mistress. She couldn’t take it with her when she left, or pawn it for drugs.

  “They demanded that I pay your debt.”

  Sasha smoked more of her cigarette. “How?”

  “The next time I go across the border, I have to bring back some packages. If I do that, they’ll let you go, free and clear.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” She threw down her cigarette and smashed the cherry under the toe of her spike-heeled sandal. “I’m free right now. I can leave anytime I want.”

  Kari stared at Sasha. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why don’t you? Come with me, tonight. We’ll check you into rehab, somewhere far away. Maybe we can use a false name.”

  Sasha laughed harshly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Kari grabbed her by both arms, refusing to let her off easy. “Carlos is going to kill you. You’re going to kill yourself. I saw the needle marks, Sasha. You look like a skeleton. If you don’t get help, you’ll die.”

  Sasha jerked out of her grasp. “Don’t be so melodramatic. I only started shooting because it’s cheaper. Carlos has me on an allowance.”

  “Do you want to live like this? Do you want to die?”

  She looked over Kari’s shoulder, into dark space. “Sometimes.”

  Tears flooded Kari’s eyes. She wrapped her arms around her sister, hugging her thin body. Guilt overwhelmed her, because she knew why Sasha didn’t value herself. Kari took some responsibility for that. “I’m so scared for you. Please.”

  Sasha accepted the hug for a moment before disentangling herself. “Carlos isn’t going to kill me. He loves me.”

  “I love you.”

  Her sister’s face crumpled. She shook her head, sniffing back the tears. Deep down, Sasha was still that little girl who’d sucked her thumb, the towheaded toddler who’d followed Kari everywhere. “I love you, too.”

  “What am I supposed to do? They expect me to smuggle drugs for you.”

  “Tell them to get fucked. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  “I’ll go to the police, then.”

  Sasha’s eyes widened. “You can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Carlos pays them, you idiot. He won’t kill you, but they will.”

  “We can enter the witness protection program—”

  “Are you insane?” She glanced around the terrace, lowering her voice. “Threatening to testify is a sure way to die. Promise me you won’t do that.”

  “You care about me, but not yourself?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Carlos doesn’t hurt innocent women.”

  Kari thought she saw movement in the parking lot, a shifting shadow. “What about that reporter in Tijuana a few years ago? Penelope Mendes.”

  “She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “So are you, Sasha. So am I.”

  Her sister crossed her arms over her chest, closing herself off. She had only one concern: getting high. Everything else in her life, including Kari, was peripheral. “Don’t worry.” Sasha gave her a dismissive peck on the cheek. “I’ll talk to Carlos.” She left in a hurry, anxious to get back to her boyfriend, her drugs, her slow suicide.

  Kari stared after her for a long time, feeling hollow. “Goodbye,” she whispered finally, wiping the tears from her face.

  6

  Kari overslept the next morning.

  The night before, Maria had been waiting up for her when she came home from the mall. Kari was too upset to discuss the details, only saying that Sasha refused to leave Moreno. Maria seemed sympathetic but not surprised.

  She’d tossed and turned until late and was unable to drag herself out of bed on time. Missing her run made her cranky. Tears hovered behind her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. She picked at her breakfast and took a quick shower, applying minimal makeup. After throwing on a soft gray tank dress, she pulled her hair into a messy ponytail and shoved her feet into black rubber flip-flops. She didn’t feel like cute shoes or colorful accessories today. If she’d owned a housedress, she’d have worn it.

  “Maybe you won’t get caught,” Maria said on the way to work. “Maybe everything will work out for best.”

  Somehow Kari doubted it. “Officer Cortez came to the store again yesterday.”

  “Oh sí? What happened?”

  “He asked me out.”

  Her eyes sparkled with interest. “De veras?”

  Kari nodded.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said no.”

  “Too bad,” she murmured. “He is very handsome.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you like him.”

  “How do you know I like him?”

  “Your face, when you speak of him.”

  Kari glanced away, sighing. She did like him, and she felt awful about turning him down. “I told him I’d just started dating someone, and … well … I’m not sure, but I think he thought I meant you.”

  Maria frowned. “Me?”

  “I know he saw you at the store. I might have given him the impression that we’re …” She swirled her hand between them, a vague gesture. “Together.”

  After a moment of confusion, Maria smacked a palm over her forehead. “Ay, Dios mio,” she said, laughing in surprise. “My mother would be very upset to hear this. No husband, no children, and now I am a lesbian!”

  Kari laughed along with her, almost until she cried. She felt a little delirious from stress. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to say.”

  “It’s okay,” Maria said, grinning. “You own home, business. I could do worse.”

  Kari smiled, shaking her head. “How’s your new job?”

  Maria shrugged. “Very much like Mexico. Hard work, no breaks.”

  “Better pay, though.”

  “Claro que sí. Ten times better.”

  “Have you seen that man again, the one who found you?”

  “No.”

  Kari pulled into the parking lot at the Hotel del Oro, glancing around. It was a little run-down, but many
of the older hotels in this area were. “Be careful,” she said as Maria exited the vehicle.

  “You too, mi amor,” she said, giving her a saucy wink.

  Kari continued on to Zócalo, trying to look on the bright side. It was a sunny morning, breezy and warm, no hint of June gloom. Traffic was busy, as usual. Summers in San Diego were unparalleled, and the tourist season was just beginning.

  She relaxed her hands on the steering wheel, anticipating a good day of sales. Immersing herself in work always calmed her nerves. Maybe Maria was right. If Moreno kept his end of the bargain and broke up with Sasha, this could all work out for the best.

  She could also take Sasha’s advice and ignore the threats. It seemed like a risky proposition, but they couldn’t force her to cooperate. Although Kari felt responsible for her little sister and wanted to keep her safe at any cost, Sasha was an adult now. Maybe it was time to let her pay her own debts.

  When the store came into focus, Kari knew refusing wasn’t an option. Zócalo was trashed. Someone had thrown eggs at the front windows and left garbage on the sidewalk. Gang graffiti covered the side of the building, thick black lettering against the white-painted bricks. Debris littered the parking lot, and the sign at the front of the store had been demolished. The Plexiglas façade was shattered, leaving an empty metal frame.

  Her heart stalled in her chest.

  Smothering a cry of shock and frustration, she parked in her usual spot and hurried toward the back entrance. The alarm was still on and there was no evidence of a break-in. Thankfully, her inventory was safe.

  She glanced around the store, knowing how much worse it could have been. She would have to order a new sign, which was a considerable expense. But the graffiti could be painted over—she’d done that before. Her most valued pieces of merchandise were one of a kind and couldn’t be replaced.

  Taking a deep breath, she went outside to assess the damage. Smashed eggshells clung to the front windows. There were broken beer bottles everywhere. Although she couldn’t decipher the graffiti, which looked like a foreign language, its message rang loud and clear: Don’t fuck with Carlos Moreno.