Page 14 of No Sweeter Poison

This district isn’t up for negotiation and if he thinks I’m letting him turn it into the next drug hot spot, he’s got another thing coming.

Since I announced my plans to legitimize a few years ago, his efforts to sabotage me have increased exponentially. Everything from destroying alliances to intervening in peace negotiations. Not to mention the occasional hit by an inexperienced sicario. Maybe that’s why Sandro finally tipped off Garcia, hoping that Roberto would be the one to get his hands dirty.

Fucking moron. Did either of them really think that a handful of shitty sicarios surveilling the area were going to go undetected?

“I’m going upstairs.” I had my gun off to Paco. “Clear out the lounge, make sure everyone’s tab is taken care. Extend my apologies.”

He bows his head in acknowledgement. “Si, patrón.”

“Wait!” Lettie’s face scrunches up. “You’re just going to leave?”

I point upstairs. “In case no one noticed, I have company. And I’d much rather be upstairs with the beautiful woman in my bed than down here, staring at your fucking arsenic zombie.”

Lettie’s jaw drops in offense. “It’s not my fault the body started decomposing! He waited too long to eat his soup!”

“Alejandro.” Diego holds up his phone. “It’s Maslov. Says he wants to speak to you.”

I expel a deep breath and let my gaze wander to the second floor for a moment. Part of me is tempted to let my siblings handle it but I know that more than half this mess is my doing. After all, I’m the one who thought it was a good idea to go legitimate.

So I take the phone and say, “Maslov? It’s Narvaez. We have a problem.”

D ahlia

The pillows smell like fresh linen and lemon.

They’re ocean blue with white stripes so thin you won’t notice unless you’re looking closely. Egyptian cotton wraps around my body like an embrace, so smooth it feels like butter against my bare legs. The sun’s barely risen, and the sky is that strange, colorless kind of yellow where the blue and green of early dawn crash together against the horizon.

Everything in this bedroom is bright and comforting. White armoire, natural wood nightstands, light curtains. A plush rug by the wood burning fireplace and a shelf taking up the entire far right wall stuffed with books, picture frames, and trinkets collected over the years. Seashells from the beach, wedding bonbonnieres, capias from quinceañeras, baptism candleholders. It reminds me of the China closet at Karina’s parents’ house filled to the brim with memories from parties’ past.

I’ve been awake for about an hour, but Alejandro is sound asleep on the other side of the bed, wearing yesterday’s clothes, with a long pillow situated between the two of us. I’d have laughed at his attempt to protect my honor if I wasn’t so endeared by it. Not sure there was muchhonor left in need of protecting but he must not have wanted to wake me when he got back.

I hadn’t intended on falling asleep. In fact, I texted Karina and told her to meet me outside so I could make a clean get away but she told me Alejandro had already arranged her ride back to the hotel. She wrote: don’t be an epic fail—get railed! Worst joke I ever heard in my life but before I was able to text back, sleep got the better of me.

I’m sure Karina will be thrilled to see me do my walk of shame this morning but I need to find my way out of here first. I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect evening and I want this precious memory to stay intact. The awkward morning after would ruin everything and I’m not sure I want to find out what happens when the magic of a one-night stand finally fades with the daylight.

Alejandro must’ve been out late last night because when I manage to slip out of bed he doesn’t stir. With the bed sheet still wrapped around my figure, I find most of my clothes and both of my shoes. Thankfully, none of the doors creak when I open them in search of a bathroom. He has a massive walk-in closet, probably the size of my living and diningrooms back home. The second door leads to the hall and the last door I open is the en suite bathroom. I wash up, rinse out my mouth with some toothpaste and mouthwash, before touching up the remnants of my faded makeup. Removing this mascara is going to be a bitch and a half later but at least by the time I slip out of the apartment I don’t look like a disaster. Just someone with a clean face and some concealer under the eyes.

Only problem in making my grand escape? I have no idea where the exit is.

I end up taking the stairs that lead back to the lounge. All the chairs are flipped over on the tables, the lights are off, bar closed, stage empty. I tiptoe across the open space when someone says, “Can I help you?”

I spin around and a gasp catches in my throat. My hand flies over my heart as the t-shirt guy from yesterday stands by the kitchen doors, wiping his hands with a towel. They’re stained reddish-brown.

“Did you cut yourself?”

After a second, the corner of his mouth quirks. “Food dye. Knocked over a bottle and got the shit everywhere.”

“Oh…well, um…” I wave awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, goodnight.”

I stop dead in my tracks.

Good. Night?!?!

He chuckles as I scurry for the front doors. “Goodnight, Dahlia.”

I’m not sure how he knows my name. Maybe Alejandro told him last night? Or Karina. I remember she went to the bar to get another Coke and Alejandro told her the guy’s name…Daniel? David? I can’t remember. Something with a D.

As if this can’t get any more embarrassing, it’s almost impossible to open the front door. It takes some tinkering with the handle and the latch before I realize the lock is still in place. I’m halfway down the block and can still hearing him laughing behind me.