Black Hearts (Sins Duet #1)

Tio and Nacho aren’t silent as they enter the forest. They’re huffing and puffing from the climb, swearing under their breath. Nacho says something to Tio about Javier hearing all about this when they’re done. That’s a relief. It means he probably knows nothing yet.

They charge past me, two thick shapes in the ghostly trees.

I have to be quick.

I aim the barrel at Tio, who is closest, a straight shot to the back of the head.

The gun fires hot in my hand, as if the silencer is glowing red with having to silence a scream.

There is still a distinct, muffled sound that brings Nacho’s attention around to me, his gun drawn and ready, all before Tio even begins to fall.

The second bullet gets Nacho right between the eyes. He doesn’t even look shocked. It’s like he knew I’d cause his death, sooner or later.

He falls too, like a tree, leaves scattering as he hits the damp earth right beside Tio.

If I’m supposed to feel something other than relief, I don’t.

Or I try not to.

I take in a deep breath, pushing it all down as I unscrew the silencer and put everything back in its place. Then I slip on a pair of micro-thin gloves and hunch down, searching the bodies. Any fingerprints would mean nothing to the cops but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

I leave their guns. They’re untraceable. Everything about these two men is untraceable. It’s always been that way.

So I take their wallets, phones, and the fifty one-thousand-dollar bills they both have spread between them. Emergency money that my father thought I knew nothing about. I feel almost honored that he would part with those bills, a rare currency he’s held on to for years, but I’m sure the money is better off in my hands than theirs. With any luck, I’ll have a few left when this is all over.

And when will that be? I think.

Then I head out of the forest and back down the hill the way I came. It’s better if I keep to the same witnesses. Any other route might put a new set of eyes upon me.

Not that I’m worried.

The bums aren’t even there when I reach the bottom. It’s like they knew the whole thing was bad news. Even in their drunkenness, they scattered like rats, smelling the poison.

I head out onto Haight, just a man out for a walk, and hail a cab that takes me all the way back to my hotel.

Peace at last.



The next day, after I call Sins & Needles and talk to Lloyd, cancelling the appointment, I take a chance on Ellie’s studio, hoping it will be open on a Sunday. When I find out it’s closed, I’m not surprised. She’s probably with her family. In a way I’m relieved that I don’t have to face her yet. I’m not sure what I’d say—for all my planning I haven’t thought that far ahead. It’s much easier for me to observe what I can from afar.

I switched hotels, moving to a tiny boutique one just outside Chinatown, with vivid art all over the walls and an old-fashioned elevator that only fits one person at a time. I know my father has probably contacted the W, wondering why the hell Tio and Nacho haven’t sent their daily report to him. When he finds out I’ve checked out, he’s probably going to contact every swanky hotel in the city trying to find a Vicente Rodriguez. My father couldn’t imagine me staying anywhere but the very best. He’ll never think to find me here.

Not under the name Vicente Cortez.

One of the girls I fucked in LA put me in touch with another girl who made fake IDs. I put in my order and paid her five grand in cash. She later came to my room, her equipment in her purse. Tio and Nacho never thought anything of it. She took my picture, printed out the IDs. She didn’t quite succumb to my advances, nervously citing a boyfriend, but I got what I needed anyway.

I can imagine the carnage back at home. I feel bad—briefly—for my mother, who must be locking herself in her room to avoid my father’s rage. I’m not sure if he’ll be worried that something happened to me or livid that something happened to my bodyguards.

But I can’t dwell on it. I made my choice a while ago and knew it wouldn’t be easy. I spend the day getting my supplies.

When Monday rolls around, I’m restless. The bad kind, where your mind and limbs have their own agenda. It leads to impulsive decisions, running with anything but logic.

I want to see Violet. I know Ellie is number one on my list, but Violet seems safer somehow, and my curiosity over her is killing me, especially over the way Lloyd was acting.

But the first stop is the bank. I open up a savings account under Vicente Cortez, and deposit nine grand in cash, the safe and legal limit.

Afterward, I head back to the hotel to gather my photography bag, then head up the hills to find the daughter, cigarettes a constant fixture in my hand.

The Academy of Art University is spread out among several blocks at the top of Sutter, and through some digging, I manage to find the photography building.

This is where my restlessness will get me in trouble. If I had put any thought into it, I would have checked this place out before I got here. I would have scoped out the classes to see how easy it is to slip in. I would have figured out how to transfer in as a late student.

Now it’s too late. The building is small and there’s no place for me to blend in. When I make my way inside, down corridors of studios draped in sheets and surrounded by lights, I see a classroom with only about forty people, all staring at their computers as their teacher stands at the front, demonstrating something. My eyes take in the backs of their heads but there’s no time to figure out which one is Violet.

So much for that. I’ll have to think of something new.

I quickly leave the building and grab a seat outside at a café across the street. I sit and watch. I wait. I sneak a cigarette until the couple next to me looks ready to tell the management.

Forty minutes later, fog has rolled in like a silver snake and students are starting to leave the building. I observe each one carefully, searching for the elusive Violet.

And then I see her.