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Lillian repeatedly pressed the button for the elevator.
Juarez dropped her off, and she was in a hurry to soak in a warm, relaxing bath. Every single time she was with him, it seemed he drew more and more out of her. On the one hand, it was immensely exhilarating, but on the other hand, incredibly exhausting.
She was so tired, she barely heard the ding of the elevator, signaling the doors were open.
Three minutes later, Lillian was standing in front of her apartment door, trying to insert the key in the lock. She heard footsteps behind her, reached into her purse and tightened her fingers around the gun inside.
“We need to talk,” Wilson said as he shoved her inside the apartment.
“Have you lost your mind? Get your hands off me.” She pushed him away and walked into the living room.
“Yeah, I lost my mind the day my sister disappeared. What’s your excuse?”
He pushed past the fact that she was one of his closest friends. “Lillian, where is Juarez?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“If you know anything about Natasha’s disappearance, we’re going to have a serious problem.”
Lillian walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window in her penthouse and stared out into the blue-black night.
Wilson followed her to the window. “What do you know?”
She glanced up at him. “Nothing. I don’t know anything.” Lillian visibly shivered.
“His sister is dead because of you. Where is he?” He grabbed her arm and glared down at her. “I need you to tell me the truth.”
She pulled free of him. “Why can’t you get it through your thick skull? No one is lying to you or trying to hide anything from you. Natasha is like my sister, too, for God’s sake. We grew up together... you’re my friend or have you forgotten?”
Wilson regained his bearings and took a step back.
“Last I heard, he was in Texas somewhere.” Lillian knew if she’d told Wilson where Juarez was—Wilson would kill them all. Besides, Juarez told her he had nothing to do with Natasha’s disappearance. But then again, he’d lied to her before. Numerous times.
She heard the door slam shut when Wilson made his exit. With a heavy sigh, Lillian locked the door, then sat down on the couch. She shuddered at the thought of being tangled into Juarez’s wicked web.
It began with Catalina’s death.
Years later, she still remembers being dragged out of her very own car in the pouring rain by Juarez and his band of merry tormentors. She’d kicked and screamed until her throat was raw and her feet and legs were sore like she’d run a marathon. She bit, she clawed, and she scratched at him until he punched her squarely in the face, causing blood to shoot out of her nose. She remembered his brutality well.
Juarez was trouble, and she knew it. She’d watched him kill before, and knew firsthand that he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.
She looked down at her wrists, remembering the rawness. Her mind pulled up vivid images of when her ankles kept knocking against the end of the micro-miniature hotel-sized cot. The first night he came to her, she rejected him, but she couldn’t deny she was curious. Lillian was not repulsed or disgusted by him in the least.
The next night he came back.
He sat in a chair staring at her.
Suddenly, he leaned in real close to her face, laying his forehead against hers, his nose directly against her own. “Lillian, I know exactly who and what you are. You’re the reason my sister is dead.”
He settled back in the chair. “You’ll do what I say, when I say, with whom I say, or you will die. No second chances; no do-overs. Do I make myself clear?” With one hand, he grabbed her tightly by the throat.
Her head rolled against the wall, as tears involuntarily slid down her face.
With the other hand, he stripped off the thin, weathered material she was wearing, and groped her roughly. “We’ll make plenty of money together. You see, you’ll be my best recruiter.”
He pulled her completely off the bed and shoved her back against the wall.
“Re-recruiter...?” she coughed out.
“You heard me, angel. Now you work for me.” He grinned, pinning her body against the wall.
Juarez licked the tears running down her face. He bit her cheek before turning her loose, then left the room, laughing.
Lillian squinted up at the ceiling trying to keep her tears at bay. She knew at some point Juarez was going to cross the line. The ringing of the phone snatched her back to reality. She sucked in a gasp, at first refusing to answer. After the fifth back to back call from the same number, she still hesitated, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear any of Isaac’s lies tonight.
~~~
The following evening, Lillian stood behind one of the potted plants in the coffee shop located in the lobby area of her building. She was fixated on the man wearing a dirty ball cap who was standing at the bus stop across the street. She’d seen this man before.
He was following her.
Mrs. Patrice, the coffee shop owner, was wiping off the recently vacated tables and throwing Styrofoam coffee cups in the trash, came and stood next to her.
“How are you doing, Miss Lillian?”
She jerked around in surprise.
“Is everything all right?”
Lillian looked down at the cup of coffee vibrating in her hand. “That man across the street—do you know him? I’ve seen him before.”
Mrs. Patrice placed the garbage bag on the floor near the trash and walked to the large window. “No. Not that I can recall. Perhaps if he didn’t have on that cap and those shades, I could see better.” She placed her face closer to the glass.
Lillian stood in place. “I noticed him the other day.”
She wondered briefly if she was making more of things than they really were—after all, Wilson’s visit left her spooked. But that wasn’t the only reason. Isaac called her and told her Wilson broke his arm and that he gave up her name. He also admitted that it was Juarez who had taken Natasha.
According to the morning news he was dead.
He’d told her that if something happened to him—use the safe key. He promised it contained enough information to put Juarez away for life.
Lillian was nobody’s fool. She wanted witness protection. She glanced out the window, studying the tall man dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks. She reached down into her purse and pulled out a small white envelope, double checking to make sure the key was still there.
Mrs. Patrice returned to wiping off the table. “Do you want me to call the police?”
“No.” Lillian shook her head. “I can’t say for sure what he’s looking for—I just feel like I’ve seen him somewhere, but can’t place it right now. It’ll come to me, I’m sure.” Maybe Juarez decided to have her watched.
“He looks like a weirdo.”
Lillian took the envelope, folded it smaller and stuck it inside her bra. She’d done a lot of things she wasn’t proud of, but she was through keeping Juarez’s secrets.
Wilson was going to kill her. He’d been her friend and covered her mess for over twenty years and she repaid him with lies to protect Juarez. Her heart pounded.
She stepped out of the coffee shop and walked around the corner to the parking garage. Lillian threw her cup of coffee in the trash and dug down in her purse for her gun.
She needed to see Wilson.
With Isaac dead, Lillian was terrified.
Her eyes darted around, checking out her surroundings. She quickened her pace.
The sound of an engine racing caused the hairs on her arms to stand up.
Lillian turned to see which way it was coming from and caught sight of a car barreling towards her.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She kicked off her heels and took off running in the opposite direction. She saw the flashing red exit sign and headed towards the stairwell.
Lillian banged the door open and kept running.