He handed her printout. A photo. She took it without much thought, on instinct. She wished she hadn’t.

Not so easily.

Clint.

It was an older photo. In uniform. He’d been so handsome back then. Was handsome still, but when
she’d met him then, she was just a stupid little girl and he’d taken her breath away. Clint and her Dad,
back from Bosnia, that first time. He’d bent down to shake her hand, and she was so shy and a little
scared, and he knew it. He smiled at her—more of a smirk, really, and winked. She’d blushed and run to
her room as soon as she could. It made her heart hurt, remembering.

She held it back out to him. “Who’s this supposed to be?”

He took it from her, handed her another one.

“Here, take a better look.”

Clint, again. With her. Where was it taken? Her graduation? How did he find it?

“It appears you know him.”

She swallowed. She couldn’t help it. She hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

“I know a lot of people. So what?”

There was a third printout. That one she knew. Director Mulvihill’s retirement party.

“This same guy that has his hand around your ass? Ringing any bells? Not-as-smart-as-she-thinks bitch?”

There was nothing she could say, so she didn’t.

He pointed to the image on the printout. “That’s Clinton Dolcemascolo, if you never got his name.”

Still she said nothing.

“Is he paying you?”

“No.”

“You doing this for free?”

“You’re paying me a decent salary.” It dripped with sarcasm. She couldn’t help herself.

He laughed, a metallic laugh, and gave her one of his little slaps to the cheek.

“Now how about you be a little more forthcoming, before I have to force it out of you? So ugly when I
have to do that.”

She was silent, so he pressed, “You with border security?”

“No.”

“Just with Sweetness, huh?”

Silence.
“That’s a yes, huh? What’s your angle?”

Silence. He raised his hand.

“This one’s gonna hurt.”

“You’re a criminal. You need to be taken down.”

He just laughed. Unkind. She cringed away. He didn’t touch her.

“I am, huh? What about you, with the company you keep?”

“I’m not here voluntarily. You can let me go at any time.”

“Now where would the fun in that be, Erika?”

It would be clear from her little twitch his use of her name made her uncomfortable.

“So besides the paychecks I was signing, what were you after?”

She knew there’s no point in lying. He’d figure it out eventually. “To watch where your money goes.”

“To count it, more likely. Sweetness is looking to see how big of a payout he can muscle his way into.”

She sneered. “You’re a liar. “He wouldn’t touch your dirty money.”

“Oh, Sweetness is always looking for his cut. I guess the human trafficking sideline isn’t working out so
well anymore, after he let those 70 clients boil to death in an abandoned truck at the border.”

She shook with anger. “You’re a filthy liar. He works to stop people like you from profiting off human
suffering.”

Gigi laughed, with little humor. “Clinton Dolcemascolo is always working the angles. He always gets his
cut. And wouldn’t I be in position to know?”

“Fuck you. You’re a criminal. You’re not fit to dust the dirt off his shoes.”

“Daddy is disappointed. Turns out you’re not a smart bitch after all. You’re a dumb as shit one. I could
call your man up right now and he’d sell me your ass for $40.”

“I’m his wife, asshole

There was just surprise, stunned surprise, then he laughed at her, it sounding more genuine this time.
“He sent his wife in here? He sent his wife? Dios mio, you’re an even dumber bitch than I accounted
for.” He started undoing his fly. “Knees.” She looked at him with hatred. “You’re not going to doubly
disappoint, are you?”

“I’ve got teeth.”

“Yes, and I’m happy to let you keep every one. Such an ugly threat to make. We’re not going to sink to
that level.”

She dropped to her knees as he caressed her hair, the side of her face. He began speaking to her in
Spanish, gentle tones. Reassurances she probably couldn’t understand. Or maybe she did. She leaned
into his touch, slightly, and closed her eyes. He knew he could move her, too. When he sensed her
yielding, he gently moved her head towards his cock.

So good. Sweet. Perfect.

After a few minutes, he nudged her head back. “What’s the number?”

Her eyes were a little dazed, puzzled. “What number?”

“The contact number for your better half.” She hesitated, so he pressed. “Such a strange saying. He’s
obviously your worse half. My apologies. What’s the number?”

She considered, then told him. He began dialing but paused before hitting connect.

“Continue.”

Her eyes took on a little spark, anger. But she yielded. She always yielded.

So so sweet.

Voice on the other line.

“Who’s this?”

“Have you misplaced a wife recently?”

Gigi could hear a shifting, of papers? Of body? He’d gotten the man’s attention.

“Who is this?”

“I think I might have found her. Can you describe any identifying characteristics?”

“Who the fuck is this?”

“I'd let you talk to her, but she's got my dick in her mouth presently.”

“You motherfucker.”

“Good guess, but I’ve never fucked your mother. I bet she’d be a lousy lay.”

“Cruz.”

“Not like your wife, Sweetness. She’s a stupendous lay.”

The voice was low, hard as steel. “This is what you’re going to do, you piece of shit. You’re going to open
your front door and let her walk out to the gate. Right now.”

“Do you have someone waiting?”

“In the next five minutes, Cruz.”

“Such a long wait, out there standing alone, and in this weather. Scorcher out there.”

“Five minutes.”
“I meant your envoy, by the way. Your wife’s skin is far too delicate to let sit for long under the
afternoon sun.”

“Okay, shitbag. We’ll do it this way: you send her out or I will personally come in there and cut your balls
off.”

“A nice offer, but I must decline.”

“Now, Cruz.”

“No offer for me this time? No personal touch to throw in?”

Clint’s voice was low and menacing. “Now.”

Gigi looked down at the woman at his feet. He tilted her head up slightly. He said, thoughtfully, more to
himself. “Such beautiful tears.” He sighed, then addressed the man on the other line. “So many tears.
Does she do that for you, Sweetness? So many beautiful, heart-rending tears.”

The voice was quiet for a few moments, then rich with barely concealed fury. “What are you doing to
her?”

Gigi sighed. “Whatever I want. It’s a long list.”

“I’ll kill you, Cruz. You piece of shit.”

Gigi felt himself nearing climax. His breathing quickened, his heart racing. He let it go, everything in him
pouring out. He didn’t usually let her continue this far, to drink him all in. He did this time.

So sweet.

He closed his eyes, his free hand burrowed in her hair.

So good.

He caught his breath and spoke. “Sorry about the delay, Sweetness. I was a little distracted.” Another
sigh. "She’s perfect, you know. So perfect.”

He could hear the unsettled emotion, the rage and fear in the man’s voice. “I’ll kill you.”

“You sent your wife in. Your wife. What a fucking fool you are. Greedy, felonious fool.”

“I’m going to kill you, Cruz.”

“You’re welcome to try. It’s not going to be as easy as slow cooking a 15-year-old boy in his own sweat
and piss.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You don’t even know their names.”

“You fucking…”

“You’re boring me, Sweetness. I’m going to let you go now. And the answer is ‘no’. You’re not getting
her back. Fucking fool.”
Gigi hung up.

He looked down. She was still on her knees in front of him. He looked at her and wanted to…Damn, he
couldn’t think. He felt something in his chest, something between a blow and…fuck. He couldn’t think,
couldn’t articulate.

It didn’t feel good, but…

She looked up at him expectantly, a little diffident. “Do you want me to get you hard again?”

“No.”

He dropped down before her and cupped either hand over the side of her face. He stared at her,
scanned her, taking measure of it.

What was it?

He got in closer. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for, but it had to be there, something…

His brows furrowed.

Her voice was small, hesitant. “Please…Gigi, what…?”

“Gael.”

Her eyes blinked, and her lips parted, then seemed to tremble.

“You’re frightening me.”

“Why?”

She tried to pull back from his scrutiny.

He pressed. “What is it?”

“I…I don’t…”

“What is it? Tell me.”

“I don’t…”

“Tell me. You know what it is, don’t you?”

“I…Please, Gael. I don’t know what you want.”

He spoke, and he heard it in his voice. The closest thing to begging he’d gotten in years.

“Tell me what it is. What is this?”

“I don’t know what you’re asking.”

He sensed her distress. He pulled back from her slightly, not so close. He modulated his tone, as if he
was talking to a small child, or animal. “What am I feeling? What is this?”

Just a hint of whiteness at her mouth, a little glint, a jewel, biting at her lower lip.
“I can’t tell you that. I don’t know. I don’t know what you’re feeling. Only you know what you’re
feeling.” At his silence, she went on, with notable trepidation. “What does it feel like?”

He pulled back from her completely and stood up, focusing his gaze out the window, to the surf.

“I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

She struggled up as well. “I’m sorry.” He turned to look at her. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

He sounded speculative. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“I don’t…”

“It is you.”

“I’m sorry, Gael. If I…if you think it’s me. Just…let me…you could let me go, if I’m causing this, how you
feel.”

“No.

He walked to the broad window behind his desk, staring out at the expanse of ocean.

“Gael, please…”

He turned to look at her briefly, them back out the glass.

“I’m going to tell you something now, that I want you to understand. You may not believe it, but I want
you to understand it. I was born here, Sonido de las Olas. When my parents died, the family I had left
gifted me to the missionaries, who sold me to a nice white family. I was 7 years old, but they told the
rich white family I was 5, so the white people would pay more. I bided my time with that nice white
family, until I knew I was old enough to make the journey back home. And that’s what I did. When I got
home, there was no more home. I looked, the most I found was a tia. Tia Mimi, who took me in. She had
a son, Eduardo. Eduardo wasn’t a brother to me, nor quite a son. Somewhere in between. When
Eduardo thought he was old enough to make his way North, he came to me. He came to me for
assistance. I was glad to offer him that assistance, but he decided he couldn’t wait for it. He took his
own trip North, with people I knew to be unscrupulous. People I warned him against.

He didn’t complete that trip. He liquified in a locked trailer when the transfer fell though.”

Erika was silent. She knew the story. The one he was relating. It’d been horrifying. Clinton had been livid.

“His name was Eduardo de la Pena Oros. He was 15 years old.

Your husband was the transfer connection.”

Erika sputtered. “That’s complete…”

But Gigi kept talking, as if she’d never said a word.

“Eddie Oros. Now you know more about that boy than your husband ever did.”
“…Clinton despises people that…” She was going to say, “like you”, but she couldn’t. Not now, at this.
Whatever had happened, and whoever had been responsible, she had no doubt this much was true, that
he’d lost someone. That he believed what he was saying.

“…that….I’m so sorry, Gael. I’m so sorry.”

He said nothing in reply.

“But if you…if you really knew my husband…”

He just held a hand up. She stopped.

The moment rested in silence, until Erika was able to take a deep breath and form the words.

“Is that why I’m here?”

“No.”

She could have kicked herself. She knew it wasn’t the reason, not that part.

“But that….that I’m here, now. The call.”

“No. You’re here because you’re mine.”

It…she shook herself. He was crazy. He was crazy, and crazy needed a soft touch. She couldn’t attempt
to process, let alone broach that statement with him, not now.

“Is it why you hate him?”

“It factors in, yes.”

He turned towards her. “You do not factor in. In any way. But if Sweetness wants to believe you do, then
we will let him. If it wounds him, we will use it.”

You’ll use me, is what he really meant. She knew it. It’s what made the most sense.

“Me, you mean?”

“Yes.”

She looked at him, and decided…it was crazy, because he was crazy. But if she wanted to take a chance,
now was it. Now was the time to try. It couldn’t make her current situation any worse.

“It’s love, Gael. What you’re feeling. What I’m causing you to feel.”

The expression on his face didn’t change. He continued to look at her. It was unsettling. She fought to
control the trembling in her hands.

He closed his eyes. Then opened them.

Again, his face betrayed nothing.

“Ah. Yes,” he said. “That’s what it is.”