He’d found Daniela on the beach in Cabo with a group of girls who’d taken the day to sunbathe on the mostly deserted beach. She was the only one who hadn’t turned away from him when he’d walked up on them skinny-dipping. It was like she’d seen in him a way out of the life she had in the slums out of sight of the tourist hotspots. The money had made her agreeable to whatever he wanted or did, and that was the way of the world as far as he was concerned.

“I want to go with you.” Daniela pressed herself to him and put her hand on his crotch.

The feeling of being in a porn film always came over him when she acted like this. There was no way she was this into him, but he didn’t care about that. Love was an illusion created by the weak as a promise to keep you stupid. He hadn’t gotten to where he was by being stupid.

“Not this time. Go back to the house and wait. I won’t be long.”

“Please, Papi. I want to go with you. You know I’ll be good.”

“Dani, don’t make me tell you again. I’m going on business, not fun, so go home.” He kissed her forehead and went back to his tie. There was a knock on the door—he was expecting Pablo—and Jerome pointed to the bathroom so Daniela would cover herself.

“Who did you send?” he asked Pablo when he opened the door. Pablo had been a peon in Gracelia’s orbit, but she’d overlooked the best thing about him. He followed orders to the letter and never complained. That was the kind of loyalty he’d demand going forward from everyone.

“Abril Rojas, señor. She say she go where she know no one looking.” Pablo handed over an envelope. “For you. This what you ask for.”

He took out the driver’s license and credit cards solidifying his identity as Jerome Curtis, since he didn’t want to go back to the Gulf Coast with an identity someone might remember. One final gift from Graciela. “She knows what to say? I didn’t get to call, so she’s sure about what I wanted, right?”

“She know, and she no let you down. The men are still there, señor?”