Xavier’spissed.
X Reyes: where the fuck are u, puta
X Reyes: I know this MF is spoiling ur ass right now, but don’t get any ideas, bitch
X Reyes: if u try to jump ship, ur gonna pay
X Reyes: I’m gonna give u until tomorrow AM to check in and if u don’t, we’re gonna have a problem
X Reyes: tonight u need to find out where all Ernesto’s got his $$ so I can get the techies on it tomorrow
X Reyes: u best check in no later than 9 or ur gonna get the room
I squint at the last message.
What the fuck isthe room?
Maybe a metaphor for something, but never mind. I’ve got other shit to worry about. Shit such as him mentioning “the techies.” That sounds like he’s not as fucking stupid as I thought and knows that Papá’s money is all tied up in investments and the stock market and other shit, and not just in a checking account or a vault somewhere. “Techies” might mean cyberterrorism or other computer hacking shit that just drains all of Papá’s assets without a trace. This isn’t exactly my area of expertise, so I don’t know. What I do know is, I gotta keep drugging Natalia and making sure she’s with me and occupied every waking moment so she can’t sneak off to snoop around and communicate with Xavier.
The new messages are more useful than I anticipated, but they aren’t why I pulled the phone out again. Natalia’s totally confusing behavior has me doubting what I originally read, so I scroll way back up to the beginning of the thread and reread all of it.
Ten minutes later, I realize I’m not wrong in my assessment, and that Natalia’s behavior earlier was just the work of a well-seasoned actress. In the older messages, both she and Xavier make repeated references to previous “targets,” which I deduce as other poor, unsuspecting sons-of-bitches that she knocked off.
So, yeah. I wasn’t wrong. And even though I wasn’t wrong, scrolling through these messages again causes that obnoxious ache in my chest again from my stupid hope that was completely dashed by realizing I’ve fallen in love with a woman sent to murder me.
Butagain, I can’t let myself get distracted by that. And since sleep is pretty much impossible with so much shit on my mind, I’m going to do the next best thing for being all tied up in knots—drink until I pass the fuck out.
Slipping out of the en suite, I creep toward the bed to stow the phone again, and just as I’m tugging the sheet back into place, Natalia stirs.
I freeze for a second and then cock my head at my own ridiculous reaction.
Iam not the one who should be worried about getting caught slinking around in the middle of the night in my own goddamn bedroom.
I pull myself together and start sifting through the pile of my discarded clothing on a neighboring chair for my shirt and jeans.
“No.”
The tiny, sleepy mewl from Natalia is sudden enough that it causes me to startle and drop my jeans. I stare at her for a second, quickly formulating exactly what I’m going to say if she’s about to wake up.
“No,” she mumbles again, her whole body jolting this time, and she flips over onto her side, pulling the sheet and blanket tightly around her. “No. Por favor. Por favor no. Lo siento, por favor no.”
It’s obviously just a bad dream, and I pick up my jeans, pulling them on in preparation to leave so I can drink myself into sleepiness, but then she starts thrashing. Andscreaming.
“¡No! ¡Por favor no! ¡Déjame ir! ¡Detener!”
Literalscreamingisn’t something I can just ignore, if for no other reason than she might freak out Lili, whose bedroom is only at the other end of the hall.
I hastily zip my jeans and then attempt to hold Natalia’s arms to get her to calm down. “Hey,” I say quietly. “Natalia, hey. Wake up. You’re having a—”
“¡No!”She thrashes again, jerking her arms out of my grasp and inching down the mattress while she hides under the blanket again. “Por favor no. Lo siento, por favor no.”
“Natalia,” I say louder, pulling the covers off her and placing my hands on her cheeks to stop her from thrashing. “Natalia, look at me. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare. Try to wake up.”
“Nooo…!”she howls, the drawn-out word appended by a hitch in her breath and a guttural sob. “No, por favor no. Detener. Lo siento. Lo siento.”
“Hey, Natalia.” I keep my hands on her face and hold it more firmly in place, which only causes her to thrash harder and kick her legs frantically, and I shout, “Hey! Wakeup!”
She screams and howls and sobs like this isn’t just a nightmare, rather an actual psychotic episode.
