“You’re lying,” I said. “MaMaLu isn’t dead. Damian was taking me to see her.”
“He was taking you to her grave, so you could see what your father did. It was important to him that you understood why he did what he did. He goes every year. This year he thought he was finally going to keep his promise and complete her tombstone. He was finally going to find his peace, but you . . . you turned out to be the chink in his armor. I knew he was cracking. The more time he spent with you, the harder he found it to distance himself. I could hear it in his voice. So fucking torn. I should have intercepted him sooner, but I’m here now, and it’s time to end this.”
Rafael’s hands were unsteady as he took aim. I turned my face away. I wanted to go back to that late afternoon, to the dusty road, to Casa Paloma receding in the background. I wanted to part the haze, to make out my best friend’s form, to stop the car and run to him.
Esteban. I wish the rains had come.
“Let her go,” said Damian.
I opened my eyes and saw him, a dark, staggering form standing before us. He could barely stand, but he was holding his ground.
“We both know you won’t shoot. You can’t,” he said to Rafael.
“I will.” Rafael kept his gun trained on me, clamping one hand over the other. “For you, I will. I’ll get over my fucking fear of guns and shoot her brains out. It’s either you or her, Damian. She called her father. Check the log on your phone. You know what that means, right? They’re coming for you. It’s only a matter of time.”
“I said let her go.” Damian drew a gun and pointed it at Rafael. He swayed unsteadily on his feet.
We were immobilized in a tense triangle: me on my knees between the two men, Rafael pointing a gun at me, Damian pointing a gun at him. Their bond was apparent to me now. The guns were props. They were working out something much deeper, each trying to keep the other from making a wrong move. Rafael was ready to eliminate anything that compromised Damian, and Damian knew that taking a life would haunt Rafael forever. When Damian looked at Rafael, he saw the one thing that he had done right. He saw a sliver of redemption. And Damian had shielded Rafael for far too long to let him get blood on his hands now.
But there was another factor at play. Me. Damian had swung me out of the way on the boat and taken the blow himself. I knew he was also doing this to protect me. I knew why I had instinctively turned to him when I thought I was surrounded by sharks. Some part of me had recognized that soul-deep part of him, the part that was still alive but buried under layers of hurt and rage.
“We both know you won’t shoot me,” Rafael said to Damian, his finger on the trigger, eyes on me.
“Try me,” said Damian. “I told you before. You get in my way, I’ll take you out.”
Rafael didn’t look the least bit convinced. “You’re hurt, Damian. Delirious. You don’t know what you’re doing. As long as she’s alive, you’re in danger. They won’t stop until they find her. We have to cut the trail off right here.”
“I decide,” growled Damian. “I decide what to do and when to do it. This has nothing to do with you, so back the fuck off. Get on your boat, get off this island, and don’t look back. My life, my fight, my rules.”
Rafael didn’t move. Damian didn’t move. They both stood there, guns raised, too stubborn to admit that each was looking out for the other.
“I got the stuff you asked for, Rafael.” It was Manuel, back from his trip. “Your face is all over the news, Damian. The mainland was crawling with cops and private security guys hired by Warren Sedgewick.” He looked from Rafael to Damian, suddenly aware he’d tripped over a live wire. “Hey, man, what’s going on?”
Rafael and Damian didn’t respond. Manuel’s news had just added fuel to the fire. They continued warring without words, locked in a duel that stretched out into a thin, taut silence. Then Rafael broke contact.