■ ■ ■
“Do I even want to know?”
I push my front door closed behind Dan as he stalks into my condo. He’s never been here before. I’m guessing, by his overly calm tone, that he’s not looking for a tour.
“I don’t know. Do you?” I ask.
Dan stops halfway through the kitchen before spinning on his heels to settle shrewd eyes on me. “Sam Arnoni’s body was found in his hotel room this morning by a maid. Beheaded.”
I force myself to take a sip of my coffee, trying to hide the wave of shock that just crashed into me.
Twelve hours.
I walked out of Sin City twelve hours ago. I’ve got to give Mendez credit. He doesn’t waste a second. The guy was probably on the phone with one of his “people” as soon as the door clicked shut behind me.
“Are you sure?”
Dan nods slowly. “I just left the hotel. Saw the body myself.”
A prickle of guilt stirs inside me. “And no one else was hurt?”
Still watching me closely, he says, “No. Looks like a professional hit.”
Passing by Dan, I make my way to my living room to look out over the bay in a dreamlike state.
Sam is actually . . . dead.
And I helped kill him.
“I’m . . . Did . . . ” Dan begins to ask and then stops abruptly. “You know what? I’d ask you if you knew he was in town, but I don’t think I even want to know that much.”
“I was at Penny’s until five a.m. and then at the gym until eight. You can check surveillance if you don’t believe me. I’m not a professional hit man,” I mutter dryly, adding, “or a murderer.”
“I know you’re not, Cain. And it’s definitely a cartel hit, by the signature.” We stand side by side in silence as we watch a sailboat pass by. It probably wouldn’t take much for Dan to find out that I had been to Sin City last night. He could probably also demand to see my surveillance footage to confirm that Sam was at Penny’s last night. If he truly wanted to know.
“With Sam gone, Charlie’s free to come home, isn’t she?” Dan finally asks. I wonder where he’s going with this.
“If she knew that he was dead. If she knew she wasn’t going to be arrested for anything, then . . . yeah, I supposed she could.” I sigh. Home. Would she consider Miami home? Would she want to come back? “I don’t know how to reach her, though. Do you think this will make the news?”
His hand scratches his chin. “Local news for sure. Maybe New York. I’ll see what I can do. If she’s in some small town in Alaska, she’s not likely going to hear about this.” He smiles. “I know a guy who knows a guy . . . who knows a guy.”