Free Dirty Angels 02 Dirty Deeds by Karina Halle Page A

seemed happy with that. He said there was a lot of work here for someone like me, and then he gave me his card, patted me on the back, and left.
    I’d kept in touch with him via email after that. Just a few messages here and there. Advice. Where I should go next. Every time he told me I should look him up if I’m in the area. And sometimes his area moved around too.
    One day, I was out of money and in the same place that he was.
    We met up at a bar. A casual deal was made. I’d accompany him on a few transactions, sort of a bodyguard. It was easy work and he paid me well. He trusted me and I trusted him.
    But soon I did more than just stand around and give people the stink-eye. I started doing him favors. Nothing terrible. But I knew Carlos was a drug lord and whatever package I was delivering, dropping off, handing over, to numerous nondescript people either contained drugs, weapons, money, instructions or a combination of the four.
    And still I did my job.
    And when I discovered Carlos’s sister was moving back to town and I first laid my eyes on Carmen Hernandez, I realized I had more than this job keeping me in Mexico.
    I fell in love and fell in love hard. I don’t know if I ever picked myself off the ground.
    We married. We made plans. We talked babies.
    We had a blissful year together.
    And then she was dead.
    And I lost the last parts of me that were human.
    ***
    Alana Bernal was doing something to me and I wasn’t sure if I liked it. Actually, if I was being honest with myself, I was loving it but that reaction in itself spurred on one of the opposite nature. I wasn’t used to being excited, to being intrigued, to feeling remotely good. I was used to the cold dead inside of me, to the life of monotony and that growing numbness that reached into everything I did.
    Change was frightening. Change made you weak. And I didn’t want any part of it.
    But I wanted part of her. That was a problem.
    Of course, when I met her for coffee yesterday, I had to act like I hadn’t been following her for days. It wasn’t so much that I was interested in what she was doing with her time the moment she was discharged from the hospital – because let’s face it, I was – but that I wanted to make sure that I hadn’t been replaced.
    Thankfully, from watching her apartment I came to the same conclusion as I had when watching the hospital. There was no one else still, only me. It was wishful thinking that whoever ordered her assassination had just forgotten about her. They hadn’t. Not for the price on her head. They were just biding their time. But there was no one else on the job, not that I could see.
    I told myself that’s why I was hanging around, that I was watching out for her. And I was. I was curious and after talking to her over coffee, I was even more confused as to what she could have done in her life to warrant such a thing. Such death. Such money.
    As a result, I was more or less honest with her questions, hoping that if I opened up a bit she would do the same for me. So far though, that didn’t seem to be the case.
    When she invited me back to her place afterward, my first thought was to obviously say yes. All while my mind was trying to figure out her mystery, my body was responding to her gorgeous face and slim limbs like any hot-blooded male would. Plus there was the chance at some answers, as well as sex, if I got a chance to look at her surroundings.
    But I couldn’t do it. My instincts were telling to wait, till I was in control of the situation. At her place, there were too many variables. In my hotel room, we were safe.
    My plan was pretty simple. I didn’t need to impress her, so it seemed, but a little wining and dining wouldn’t hurt. The emphasis would be on the wining. I know it’s pretty backwoods to get information out of someone by getting them drunk – I’ve done a hell of a lot worse to get what I needed – but it would still be affective.
    And, because of the company, somewhat fun.
    I