Bold Tricks

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It was almost sad when we finally bid adios to Mexico. We ended up spending a few more days in the country, just lying on the beach and trying to get our lives back on track, to remember how to be real people in normal situations. The only problem was, the stint in Zihuatenejo was just a vacation, just a blip of normalcy before we had to delve back into things we didn’t want to do.

None of us wanted to take Ben like that. If there was any other way, we would have taken it. But Gus was right – either Camden would never see his son again or this was his only choice. And in any other mother’s arms, Camden would have probably let that happen.

Not with Sophia.

And it was she who was on our lips as we drove up the country and back into California. The border officials were a little suspicious of the three of us, but our passports all went through with flying colors and when they searched our vehicle – thoroughly, I might add – they didn’t find anything. We had ditched every weapon from the car in a gully outside of Tijuana. We were clean.

“So where’s the first stop for our new lives?” I asked as we drove through San Diego. I felt so much safer being back in America, back on my home turf, but I wouldn’t dare let myself relax. Not yet. “Do we need to be close to Sophia?”

“We need to find out if Sophia is still living where she was,” Gus said from the front seat. “We can use my place as a home base. I have a friend with a house up the street from me who rents it out on a weekly basis.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “Not that I don’t want you two in my house, but you know, just having the one bedroom and all it might be a little awkward.”

And loud, I thought as I felt the heat creeping on my cheeks. Just the other night someone in an adjacent room complained about how loud our sex had been. Loud and frequent. Damn prudes.

Camden winked at me in the mirror and we drove on until we ended up at the beautiful enclave of Pismo Beach. After Gus set things up with his friend and the house, which was a bit too large for the two of us but at least it was available, Camden and I headed to Target to stock up on all things wonderful and American. We had to get through the tough part first but we were still at the start of our new lives together. I even paused at the baby section, picking up an adorable tiny tee-shirt that said The Cramps on it.

“Look!” I exclaimed, shoving it in Camden’s face. “Your favorite band.”

He grinned and raised an eyebrow. “What if she’s a girl?”

“Like hell our daughter wouldn’t be a fucking rocker chick.” I threw it in the basket. “I don’t care if I’m jinxing it, we’re buying it.”

He pushed the cart along gleefully and I was hit with a sudden wham of pain. Not for my leg, no that was much better. I remembered what happened the last time I thought I was pregnant, all those years ago with Javier. I jinxed it then.

Even saying his name in my head put shivers down my spine and caused me to look around uneasily. Even though I had gotten prematurely excited with him, it wasn’t going to stop me from getting excited with Camden. Camden gave me hope and I was hopeful. He gave me strength and I was strong. We would be together. This all would work out. After everything we’d been through, it had to.

“You okay, baby?” he asked me, putting his arm around my waist.

“I’m good. Just … wary, I guess.”

He was being a bit on edge too, constantly worrying that someone was going to recognize him. Ever since we had come back into the country and had done a quick search of papers and the internet, the whole “Camden McQueen is Wanted” thing was pretty much gone. There were far worse people out there to report, including rumors of cartels coming across the borders and the Mexican Drug War flaring up on American soil, fighting for possession of local gangs and marijuana growers. It was only a matter of time before the war would come north, the papers would report, after a car exploded in San Diego the previous week. Funny how what we were experiencing south of the border was going on right here in our own backyards. Or at least the ghettos, as it seemed to be.

“I don’t think that feeling will be going away anytime soon,” he told me with a sigh. “But at least we’re working on it, right?”

I nodded and leaned into him and continued our shopping like any other twenty-something couple who was about to move in together for the first time would do.

When we got back to our furnished house – two stories overlooking the ocean AND it had a lap pool – Gus came over and we sat on the upper balcony with two of his computers and started mapping out the plan.

Our first step was to figure out where Sophia lived. The three of us would head into Silverlake and see if she was still at her old apartment. If she was, that made our plan a lot simpler. If she wasn’t, well then we had some digging to do.

“If she’s still in the LA area,” Gus said, typing in his computer, “we could at least find out where she works. She was still working as an esthetician, hey Camden?”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “As far as I know. She’d definitely have to be working. I think that was part of the reason why they tried to get the money from me. She wouldn’t have to work anymore.”

“That’s if her brothers were even thinking of sharing the money with her,” I pointed my pen at him as I jotted things down on my notepad. “You don’t know how close she is with them, really, I mean how deep into the gang she goes. Is she just a pawn getting a small cut or does she have a larger stake in these things.”

He sighed and took off his glasses, rubbing the lens against his shoulder. He had found sexy nerd glasses at Target and had the prescription put into them in no time. He still looked hot as fuck to me – the glasses and tats were a delicious combination – but I did miss his eyes a bit.

“I honestly have no idea anymore,” he said dejectedly, slipping his glasses back on. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

I gave him a wistful look. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find her if we can.”

“And we just did,” Gus announced triumphantly, turning the screen of his laptop to us so we could see. There was a spa in Burbank that said Sophia Madano worked there as one of the skin techs.

Gus picked up his cell phone and handed it to me. “Want to call and make an appointment? What’s your name again?”

I took it from him and cleared my throat, not happy about being someone else again. “I can be Elizabeth Waters.” I dialed the number on the screen and waited for it to pick up. A woman with a thick Asian accent answered. I asked to make an appointment tomorrow, saying I had a woman give me a facial once, pretty, tiny with long brown hair.

“That’s Sophia,” the woman on the phone said. “Tomorrow at two okay?”

“Perfect,” I said, giving her my fake name. I hung up, my chest crawling with nerves already. I gave the phone back to Gus and wiggled my lips. “I guess Elizabeth has a meeting with Sophia tomorrow. Hope she doesn’t recognize me.”

“Red wig, green contacts,” Camden suggested. “I doubt she would, she only saw you from afar.”

I let out a shaky breath and folded my hands on the table. “All right. Then what?”

“Talk to her, find out where she lives,” Gus suggested.

“I might sound like a creeper.”

“You’re a con artist, Ellie,” Gus said.

I frowned at that. “Was.”

He rolled his eyes and ran his fingers over the brackets that lined his mouth. “Regardless of whether you were or still are, you know what you’re doing. Have some confidence in yourself for fuck’s sake and stop beating yourself up over this shit. You’ve done all of this before. Act the part, gather the intel, report back to us. We’ll tail her, scope out the scene. Then move on to the second part of the plan.”

It’s too bad the first part of the plan relied entirely upon me. After everything I’d gone through, it was odd that I was suddenly so afraid of having to go through with this, something that was quite simple. I guess after so many close calls and being placed in the line of fire, I was scared to death that something would go wrong again and everything I’d gained would be taken away.

Later that evening we went for a drive, heading into LA and the area of Silverlake looking for Sophia’s old place. The apartment was occupied and we spent a few hours outside of it, doing surveillance. Camden had a hunch that Sophia wasn’t there anymore because the window shades were a different color and there was a doormat outside the door that wasn’t there before. His suspicion was confirmed when someone stepped outside to have a cigarette: an elderly man, stooped over. Seconds later an old woman came out and yelled at him to come back inside. Definitely not Sophia.

The next morning I was frazzled, having tossed and turned all night. I wasn’t even in the mood for morning sex. At first, anyway, but it’s hard to say no to a cock belonging to 6’2” of toned muscle. I honestly didn’t know how I was going to pull this off with Sophia. I had no problems lying to her and pretending to be a redhead called Elizabeth but I knew I’d have problems with trying not to shank her.

We had rented a car for the occasion, under my fake name so it was ironically legit, and I drove out toward Burbank with Gus and Camden in their rental car not too far behind. I had a Mini Cooper because that’s just how I rolled while they opted for a Honda Civic, fast enough but nondescript. I pulled up the Mini Cooper in the parking lot of a strip mall with its shitty-looking Chinese buffet next to the “spa” and spent longer than I should have sitting there and trying to control my breathing. I eyed myself in the mirror. The red wig I had on was real hair and fit me like a glove, flowing nicely over my shoulders. It didn’t look sex kitteny, it just looked normal, even up close. It was quite obvious I was wearing contacts though, but the natural green color worked well with my skin tone. I could pass for Elizabeth, I could pass for Elizabeth, I could pass for Elizabeth.

I wasn’t Ellie Watt.

I wouldn’t kill Sophia.

I inhaled until my lungs felt like they were going to burst and got out of the car. I was wearing a black pantsuit, sleek and professional. I worked in accounting for an advertising firm. I had my fake business card in my Marc by Marc Jacobs bag we got from Nordstrom Rack. Elizabeth Waters. Single. Twenty-seven years old. Testing out a Mini because I want to buy one but now was afraid the red color clashed with my hair. Loves getting her pores cleaned.

I wouldn’t kill Sophia.

I gathered my courage and walked over to the door and strolled inside like this was my weekly treat. The bell rang overhead and I was met with unflattering fluorescent lighting and a woman at the counter who was snapping gum. It was a busy place, with the manicures and pedicures at the front, Vietnamese women attacking feet and hands while chatting with each other. The rest of the treatments seemed to be in the back in dentist-like chairs.

“Can I help you?” the girl at the counter asked, her hair looking like it got dipped in Pepto Bismol.

I tried to keep my voice down, not wanting Sophia to hear me and see me before I saw her. “I’ve got a two pm appointment with Sophia.”

The girl eyed the computer and nodded, snapping her gum again, before yelling “Sophia!” Then she pointed at the end of the room. “She’s right there.”

I slowly turned and looked. Sophia was walking toward me, a completely blasé look in her eyes. She looked tired but still pretty, a tiny woman with mad curves, her brown hair pulled back off her face so it showed off her aristocratic nose and red pouty lips. She barely smiled, barely acknowledged me.

Which was actually a good thing. But I was so close to grabbing her by the throat and asking if she knew who I was, if she knew what she’d done, if she realized how fucking screwed she was going to get.

I didn’t, though. I just gave her a smile and said, “Hi, I’m Elizabeth,” and extended my hand.

She looked at it, looked at me, gave me a nod and said, “Right this way.”

Bitch.

I followed her over to the station and she instructed me to take off my suit jacket and put my bag on the ground. I lay back in the chair and she asked me what I wanted.

Oh, I had so many answers to that.

None were appropriate.

I told her I wanted my pores squeaky clean and to look fresh. I had a date on the weekend. With a really hot guy.

With glasses, covered in tattoos, I thought, a real fucking work of art, a tortured soul with a heart of gold, who fucks like an animal and will love me till my dying day.

I couldn’t help but smile at my thoughts, at the truth, and lo and behold, she smiled back.

“Hot guy?” she asked. “That sounds nice.”

“Oh, I bet you have tons of hot guys,” I said, my mouth snaking upward.

“Me?” she asked and then quickly rubbed the tip of her nose, sniffing. I bet she didn’t have a cold. “No, most of the guys I go out with aren’t very hot.” She laughed awkwardly.

No, most drug dealers aren’t very hot, I thought.

“Maybe it’s the area,” I tried, fishing for info. “Burbank. Too many actors.”

“Oh, no, I live in Pasadena,” she said. “Too many married men.”

I smiled. “Well that doesn’t help.”

“And they never leave their wives for me,” she continued with a non-committal shrug.

I kept smiling, thinking she was kidding. But she wasn’t.

I had to play it cool.

I swallowed down my rage and took a deep breath.

“Nervous?” she asked me. She was more astute than I thought.

“Yeah, just thinking about the date,” I said, covering up.

“What’s the guy’s name?”

Camden McQueen. Camden McQueen. Camden McQueen.

The words were dying to come out of my mouth, just to see the look on her face but I reeled them in and said, “Derek.”

Hey, why not.

“Hot name,” she said, and then she turned her back to me and started making preparations.

The thing I learned about Sophia over the next hour was that she never once mentioned her son, even when I started babbling to her about being single and wanting children and how was I going to balance working at the advertising firm with a child. She didn’t offer anything about Ben.

Not until the end.

She was slapping moisturizer on my face, hurrying because I could tell her next client had arrived and she said, “Well I hope your date goes well this weekend.”

“Thanks,” I told her, swinging my legs over the side.

She picked up my bag from the ground and got my jacket from the hook. As I slipped the jacket on over my blouse, she gave me a dry smile and said, “Listen, about the kid thing. Don’t bother. They always seem like a good idea at the time but they’ll fuck up your life.”

I knew my jaw had dropped open. I couldn’t help it.

She smiled coldly. “I’m serious. I wish someone had told me that back in the day. So enjoy your hot man. Just make sure you use a condom.”

I closed my mouth and swallowed hard, feeling angry and flustered and shocked all at once.

She motioned for me to go to the counter and then waved over the next woman, someone who was obviously a regular. I moved over to the cashier in a daze.

Had she seriously just told me that?

That definitely didn’t help sway my desire to shank her.

And it definitely made me more determined than ever to get Ben far, far away.

I paid for the treatment – leaving her a shitty tip that had the clerk eyeing me like I was nuts – and then high-tailed it out of there. I got in the Mini Cooper and drove home, my hands kneading the steering wheel through miles and miles of heavy traffic. I knew Camden and Gus were waiting nearby the salon to tail her when she went home for the evening. I quickly gave them a call, relaying the information that I picked up but left out that last part. Camden didn’t need any more ammo, and if he did, well then I would give it to him. For now, he needed to keep his head clear and his emotions under control.

I got home, poured myself a glass of wine and waited for my men to get home. Then I poured myself another glass of wine and waited some more.

Here’s the thing about being alone.

You’re not.

You have your demons with you.

Sitting in that house, the house that wasn’t mine, with the furniture that wasn’t mine, and the red wig splayed across the kitchen table, was the first time I’d been alone in what felt like a long time. There was the time in the jungle before I found Camden, but that was no time to reflect or think.

Now I truly was alone.

And it was terrifying.

Not only being in a large and still unfamiliar house with unfamiliar sounds.

And not because I still had this undercurrent of paranoia at the back of my head, this feeling of dread that followed me around in this bright Californian sunshine.

But because I was alone with my thoughts.

Alone with my guilt.

Alone with the knowledge of the things I’d done.

The people I’d killed.

So many sins.

I put my head on the table and cried. I cried for my mother, for the father I knew and lost, for Violetta, I even cried for Javier. I cried for the men I shot, in self-defense or self-preservation. I cried for the people I’d stolen from, robbed, conned, lied to. I cried for everyone who ever had to meet me.

Everyone except Travis.

For him I felt nothing at all, a stone where my heart should be.

I cried until Camden and Gus eventually came home and found me a blubbering, tear-streaked mess who’d drunk an entire bottle of wine. Camden picked me up in his arms and brought me to bed where he stayed with me until morning.

Then the sun rose and his lips lightened my soul and his heart set me free.

And I was able to move on.