And he wore his seat belt, too. She regarded him with exasperation. Had there ever before been such a sober, civic-minded assassin?
At some point during the day, she had lost her fear of him. She didn’t know exactly when or why, but she couldn’t have found comfort in his arms if she’d still been afraid of him. He hadn’t changed. Had she? The past week and a half had been nothing but an emotional roller coaster, and the strain had to be taking a toll. She had to be losing her mind for her to be attracted to someone like Diaz.
She had at least kept him from realizing what she was feeling, she thought. She hadn’t responded to his light kiss; in fact, her reaction had been perfect, though unplanned.
“Are you finished?” he asked.
She looked at her empty plate. “I am unless I lick it.”
Again that little quirk of his mouth. “I mean, would you like something else?”
“No, nothing else, thank you.”
He paid for their meal, and as they were walking to the truck, she realized how much money he had spent today. “I’ll reimburse you for your expenses,” she said. Let him think Finders was reimbursing him; she intended to pay with her own money.
He didn’t say anything, and she wondered if she had offended him. He was half Mexican, after all, and had spent part of his formative years here. The machismo of the culture had to have affected him at least a little.
“Give me an itemized statement,” she continued, unable to leave it alone.
His expression was blank again. “How should I list the bribe?”
“As a bribe. We pay them all the time. How else would we get information?”
“There are other methods. But sometimes a bribe will work.” He took out his cell phone and called someone, presumably the same boy, to meet him and collect the truck. But it was a different boy who showed up, somewhat younger than the first one, and with an engagingly roguish grin. Diaz gave him the keys and some money, and the kid hopped behind the wheel and roared off.
“Brothers?” she asked.
“Not mine.”
“I mean, are the two boys brothers?”
“Probably. They live in the same house, but they could be cousins.”
Milla and Diaz walked across the bridge to El Paso and collected his other truck. “Where to?” he asked. “Back to the office, or home?”
“Home.” She wanted to change clothes, because the skirt had become uncomfortably tight after she’d eaten. “Then, if you don’t mind, take me back to the office.” She had to pick up her car. “If you don’t have time, I’ll just call a cab.”
“No problem.”
“By the way, how did you get into my house the other night? I know the doors and windows were locked.”
“They were. I unlocked one. You need a security system.”
She hadn’t before; her neighborhood was very low-crime. “Would that stop you?”
“Not if I wanted in.”
He waited downstairs in the living room while she ran upstairs to change. She didn’t bother looking for anything that would hide the bandage on her neck, because the weather was too hot. Instead she put on crisp yellow slacks and a white sleeveless blouse, and ran back downstairs.
He was examining the rocks scattered around the living room; she had used the prettiest ones as decorations. The rest were in various containers: a big blue bowl on the coffee table, two clear vases, a huge glass piggy bank. “What’s with all the rocks?” he asked, his head tilted to the side like a quizzical dog’s.
“I picked them up for Justin,” she said, going very still. “I thought he’d probably like rocks. Don’t little boys like to throw rocks, and carry them around in their pockets? I guess he’s too old for that now, though. But sometimes I’ll see an unusual rock and pick it up anyway. Habit.”
“I liked bugs,” he said. “And worms.”
“Gross!” She wrinkled her nose and shuddered, imagining a pocket full of worms. Then she sighed. “I suppose I should get rid of the rocks, but I just haven’t been able to make myself do it. Maybe one day.”
“If nothing else, you could throw them at anyone who breaks in.”
“You’re the only one who has broken in.”
“You probably throw like a girl, anyway.”
Despite herself, Milla found herself smiling at him. “Well, of course. What else?”
What else, indeed? Diaz mused as he walked back across the bridge into Juarez. She was a girly girl. She tried to be tough, and was certainly competent and willing, but her instincts were completely female. Her bedroom was froufrou, with sheets that felt like satin, mounds of pillows, soft rugs underfoot, and crystal things hanging off her lamp shades. Her bathroom smelled sweet and perfumey.
She wouldn’t like knowing that he’d touched her sheets and looked in her closet, but he’d been curious. He’d wanted to know about her, read her in the clothes and scents she preferred. She had jeans and pants and shirts, but for the most part her clothes were dresses and skirts, delicate blouses. Today, when she’d come back downstairs after changing, she’d looked neat and cool in yellow and white, with a couple of white freshwater pearl bracelets on her wrist. She’d somehow managed to make the bandage on her neck look more like an accessory than a necessity.
Because she tried to be tough but was inherently soft, he was going back to Juarez without her. Lola wouldn’t be expecting him back so soon, so now was the perfect time to be there.
He would be surprised if Lola didn’t have at least a couple of kids. Grown, now, of course, but it was possible one or more of them had still been living with her when she was taking care of the stolen babies for her brother and Pavón. Kids were nosy, and they heard things even when you thought they were nowhere around. Hers might well have overheard some conversation between Lorenzo and Pavón, something that would give him another thread to follow.