Page 65 of No Sweeter Poison

Dahlia

I spend an hour in the bathroom scrubbing other men’s blood from my body.

The clothes I was wearing get tossed into the fireplace as they’re beyond saving. Not that I would’ve kept them anyway.

They’re the clothes I became a murderer in.

Unable to sleep, I sit in my room for hours and wait for news to come but it never does. We were deep in the countryside and it took Diego a few hours to reach us. By then, we’d already taken Moises to the hospital and I stayed behind to comfort Bertha as Alejandro took care of the local police force. Diego and Lettie arrived, frantic and concerned, presumably over the condition of their brother. Cuts, bruises, a grazed leg, broken rib, and a few nasty marks around his neck but he’ll survive.

What surprised me was their concern for me.

I haven’t always been the most agreeable house guest but I was the first one Lettie came to when she arrived at the hospital. Only after I insisted I was all right did she finally grant attention to her brother, at which point Diego stopped to check in on me as well.

Alejandro stayed behind to make sure Moises and Bertha were taken care of. I drove back to the villa with Lettie and half a dozen bodyguards. We didn’t speak and when we got home she gave me the privacy I very clearly needed.

I haven’t spoken in hours.

I wish I could call Karina but decide not to. For one, I doubt she’ll answer, especially at this time. And if she did, what would I tell her? Certainly not the truth and she’ll know if I’m hiding something by the sound of my voice. So it’s just me, alone, in this dark, quiet room, sitting with the knowledge that I became a murderer today.

I’m not sure how to feel about it.

Numb isn’t the right word. Shocked isn’t it either.

Calm.

I feel uncharacteristically calm and the lack of a visceral emotional reaction—fear, anger, self-hatred, numbness—is what’s concerning to me. I killed someone today. Doesn’t matter that he was going to kill Alejandro and probably me next. Shouldn’t I feel something?

That man had a life. Parents, siblings, a wife, children, maybe. Friends. What makes him any different than Alejandro? They’re both criminals; made men who live and breathe this lifestyle without remorse or consideration. Putting a hit on someone is a part of it.

How many men has Alejandro killed? How many fathers, brothers, husbands, and friends? He could’ve just as easily been the man I killed rather than the one I saved. Nothing sets him apart from the corpses in the morgue tonight. If they’re even in a morgue. I suspect Diego and Alejandro have a way of dealing with incidents like this.

No matter how many times I try racking my brain for an answer, I come up short. Either there’s no answer to this great moral debacle or I’m lying to myself. There is something that sets Alejandro apart from the men that were killed today.

I just don’t want to admit what it is yet.

There’s noise in the hallway and a light goes on for a moment before going off again. Footsteps approach my door and a few seconds later, it opens.

I bolt upright in bed. “Who’s there?”

“Dahlia?”

I reach for the bedside lamp and turn it on. Alejandro enters the room and gently shuts the door behind him. “I’m sorry. I thought you were sleeping, I wanted to check on you.”

“Moises?”

“He’ll pull through.” He makes his way across the room and sits on the edge of the bed. “We’ll have matching scars now. It’ll really strengthen our brotherhood.”

“Don’t joke like that…you could’ve died today.”

His nose crinkles a bit. “I had him. You definitely sped up the process though.”

“I don’t understand how you can be so blasé about the whole thing.”

“Lots of different people want to kill me for lots of different reasons. Those men weren’t the first nor will they be the last.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I don’t want you to die.”

It’s an admission I know will cost me but I’ll worry about the price later. For now, I find relief in the fact that he’s here, injured, but alive. I’m glad Moises will be all right too. He and Alejandro both got hit in the leg but Moises also caught a second bullet in his side. When I left the hospital, he was still in surgery.