Shades of Gray (24 page)

“But he’s worked with us for a long time. More than two years.

Can’t you give him another chance? Let him work off what he owes?”

“So the next person will think they can steal from me and walk
away missing only a thumb?” Hinestroza shook his head, almost as if
he were truly sorry. “No, Danny. I can’t do that.” He made an
impatient motion with his hand.

Madrigal stepped up next to Ortiz again, brandishing the razor.

“What do you think?” he asked conversationally, looking at Danny
with lively eyes. “An ear?” Madrigal ran the razor against Ortiz’s ear,
opening up a red river of blood. He moved the razor around to Ortiz’s
face, pulling his head back by a handful of hair. “Or maybe take off
this nose? The one that likes to snort up Mr. Hinestroza’s cocaine.”
Danny and Ortiz screamed at the same time—long, echoing
wails. Danny came up out of his chair, his cries ragged and wild.

“Please, no, don’t! God… don’t!”

“Sit the fuck down!” Madrigal commanded, pointing the razor in
Danny’s direction.

“Wait… now, wait,” Hinestroza said, holding up both palms. “Sit
down, Danny. And let’s talk about this.”
Danny sank into his chair, his legs jittering against the seat.

Maybe they could still get out of this. Maybe Ortiz didn’t have to die
this way. Maybe…

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“I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about Ortiz.”
Danny nodded, his head bobbing up and down like one of those
dolls they passed out at baseball games. “Yes. He’s a good friend.

Please, Mr. Hinestroza.”

Hinestroza pursed his lips, tapping them with his unlit cigar.

“The bottom line is, someone stole from me, Danny. That can’t go
unpunished.” He put the cigar in his mouth, lighting it with a gold
lighter from his pocket. He took a few deep inhales, chomping
contentedly on the end. “But I’m willing to make a deal, because
you’ve always been such
a good employee.”

“Anything,” Danny agreed. “If you want to take some of my
wages, too, or something like that, that’s fine. No problem. I’ll—”

“You take his place,” Hinestroza said, his voice fierce, eyes
burning into Danny’s.

Danny didn’t understand, his brain not able to make sense of the
words. “Wh-wh-what?” he stammered.

Hinestroza shrugged, pointing with his cigar to Ortiz. “He stole
from me. Someone has to pay, Danny. Otherwise I get a reputation as a
man who doesn’t protect what’s his. And that only leads to trouble. I
understand that you don’t want your friend to die. It’s actually very
noble of you. But you’ll have to take his punishment instead.”
The tears fell hard now, running down Danny’s cheeks and
splattering against his jeans. He was beyond the point of feeling shame
or embarrassment for his weeping, terror the only emotion in his
repertoire. “Mr. Hinestroza, I… isn’t there some other way?”

“No. That’s your only choice. Make it.” Hinestroza’s voice was
as cold and unforgiving as the razor in Madrigal’s hand.

“Danny,” Ortiz groaned, his voice alive with anguish. “Danny.”
But Danny refused to look at him. He didn’t want to hear whatever he
was going to say, didn’t want to read the pleading in his eyes.

Because Danny already knew what his answer would be. He knew
exactly the limits of his own bravery, knew precisely where his ability
to sacrifice himself ended. And he knew he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t fall
186 | Brooke McKinley

on the sword meant for Ortiz. Danny was going to let him die.

“Well?” Hinestroza demanded. He wanted Danny to say it out
loud. Hinestroza understood the power of guilt, understood that Danny
would choose to live but would never take another easy breath, would
be forever haunted by the man he did not save.

“No,” Danny whispered, strangling on his grief.

“No, what?”

“No… I won’t take his place.”

Hinestroza leaned forward across the desk. “Fine. Then stop
your whining and let Madrigal do his job.” He pushed back his chair
with a screech of metal on concrete, his cigar clamped between his
teeth. “I’ll be out in the car,” he told Madrigal. He pointed at Danny,

“You stay here and watch.”

In the end, Madrigal took Ortiz’s ear next, the one closest to
where Danny sat so he could see. Danny closed his eyes, but Madrigal
threatened to cut out his eyeballs if he did it again. “Mr. Hinestroza
told you to watch.” So Danny watched. With each new body part or
chunk of flesh that littered the blood-soaked floor, Ortiz’s cries grew
softer, but he would not die.

Danny had long since emptied his stomach onto his lap and down
the front of his shirt, his breathing coming in ragged gasps, his eyes
rolling back in his head as they tried to escape the sight. Danny cast
his mind out, away from the stench of fresh blood and the wails of the
dying. He could taste the vomit in his throat, feel it caked around his
mouth. Danny sent up a prayer that he could be struck dead alongside
Ortiz. But, like all of Danny’s prayers, this one went unanswered—he
kept right on breathing, right on seeing.

Danny didn’t even recognize Ortiz anymore; he was just blood
and gaping wounds. Danny wished they were seated closer so he could
hold his hand, so Ortiz would know he wasn’t alone.

Danny remembered the day he’d met Ortiz, how he’d smiled so
wide when Danny had walked up to the car wash, smelly and scared.

Ortiz had not hesitated, had accepted Danny as his friend and helped
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him without question. Danny remembered how they would sit outside
on their lunch break and eat cheap tacos, and Ortiz would tell stories
about his
wife.
How he’d loved her since the day they’d met as seven-year-old children. He was never embarrassed to admit his feelings; he
always spoke with pride.

Danny wished he could turn back time, press the rewind button
on his life and say “No—fuck, no,” when Ortiz came to his apartment
asking for a job. He wished he had done more to stop Ortiz from
sliding into darkness after his daughter died. He wished he’d had the
courage to save his friend.

Finally, even Madrigal grew tired, looking with disgust at his
ruined clothes, flinging the bloody razor onto the table. “What do you
think, Danny? Think he’s had enough?”

“Please,” Danny croaked. It seemed to be the only thing he could
say, the only word his brain could dredge up. “Please.”
Madrigal pushed Ortiz’s head with the flat of his palm. “Hey,
asshole, you still alive?”

Ortiz let out a low whimper, gurgling and wet, and Danny’s
stomach heaved in response. God help him, he wanted Ortiz to hurry
up and die; he wanted it to be finished. Madrigal kicked over the chair,
and Danny winced at the hollow thud as Ortiz’s head bounced against
the floor. Ortiz was looking at Danny from between bloody strands of
hair, his remaining eye filmy and dark. Madrigal pulled out his gun
and held it tight against Ortiz’s head.

“Nah,” he smiled. “Too quick.” He moved the gun lower, pressed
the barrel into Ortiz’s stomach.

Danny thought all his tears were gone, but he sobbed out Ortiz’s
name, weeping behind his hands. When Madrigal fired the shot, Ortiz’s
body jumped against the floor.

“I’m going outside for a smoke,” Madrigal said, his voice easy,
satisfied with a job well-done. “You wait here.”
Danny stayed with Ortiz until he died, crooning a wordless tune,
telling Ortiz he was sorry, even though he doubted Ortiz could hear
188 | Brooke McKinley

him. Danny hoped he had escaped to somewhere far away—a place
beyond the pain, a place where his daughter waited. Danny didn’t
bother asking for forgiveness. He couldn’t see the point of wasting his
breath begging for something he did not deserve.

MILLER was ready. He’d climbed out of bed early, showered and shaved in the cramped and steamy bathroom. He tried not to think. He wanted to disappear inside his professional shell, his mind focused solely on the goal of discovering the truth about Ortiz. He pulled on navy slacks and a white dress shirt, stopped short of wearing a tie. With one hand he smoothed back his damp hair and gazed at himself in the mirror. He looked like an FBI agent, hard and detached, a man he hardly recognized anymore.

You’re going to walk out there and break him now? Is that the
kind of bastard you are, Miller? After what he said to you last night
about never loving Griff? You know what he was telling you, what
those words meant. And you’re going to turn around and push him this
way?

But Miller couldn’t find out what he needed to know if he didn’t wear the mask. And he had to admit there was a sense of relief that came with stepping behind the façade again, putting himself beyond Danny’s reach. He’d never been so drawn to another human being in his entire life, and had never been so frightened by someone’s power over him.

Danny was still asleep, sprawled across the bed, hugging a pillow now that Miller had vacated his spot. Miller sat down in the chair near the window and waited, his elbows balanced on his knees, hands clasped. He’d picked this time and method deliberately, knew Danny would be vulnerable when he first woke up, naked physically and mentally against Miller’s surprise attack. No matter what the outcome, Miller would not blame Danny if he hated him after this.

And maybe that’s your goal, huh? It’s a lot easier for you when
the other person’s the first to walk away, isn’t it?

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Miller wasn’t sure how long he sat there watching Danny sleep, the tattoo on his back calling Miller closer. He wondered if he would ever get the chance to touch it again. A sliver of sun had poked through the break in the curtains, warm on Miller’s neck, when Danny finally woke up, rolling over with a jaw-popping yawn.

“Hey,” he greeted Miller with a puzzled smile. “What time is it?

Why are you all dressed up?”

Miller took a deep breath, kept his face neutral, his voice even. “I know about Alejandro Ortiz.”

Danny recoiled, like he’d touched an electric current, his body arching away from Miller. “What did you say?” he choked out.

“I need you to tell me what happened. How did he die, Danny? Is he the one you were talking about when you said you killed someone a long time ago? What did you mean by that?” Miller was relentless in his questions, not letting up, not giving Danny any time to think.

“It’s none of your goddamn business.” Danny leaped off the bed, grabbing his boxer shorts from the floor and tugging them on. His eyes were wild, and Miller was transported back to that moment weeks ago in the interrogation room when he’d thought Danny was going to try to run. Miller stood quickly, putting his body between Danny and the door.

“We can talk about it here or I can take you down to headquarters and you can talk to Colin.” Miller might have been speaking to a complete stranger, Danny a suspect facing him in an impersonal interrogation room, instead of across the bed they’d shared only the night before.

Danny’s head whipped around. “Fuck you, Miller,” he spat.

“Why don’t we do that, then? Head on down there, and while I’m at it I can tell him all about how you had your dick up my ass last night.” Now it was Miller’s turn to take a step back, the breath freezing in his lungs. Danny barked out a bitter laugh. “It’s not much fun being ambushed, is it?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Miller said with more certainty than he 190 | Brooke McKinley

felt.

“Try me.” Danny’s eyes were ice cold, brutal self-preservation rising to the occasion.

“Answer the questions, Danny.”

Danny’s brow furrowed, his mouth twisting up. “How’d you find out about him anyway?”

“You had a nightmare one night, at the apartment. You were calling his name. I had Colin start trying to track him down.” Danny looked away, the muscles in his throat leaping under his skin. “Why didn’t you say something?” he asked finally.

“Because you wouldn’t have told me. I had to do my job.” Danny glared at Miller with narrowed eyes. “Is that what you’ve been doing with me all this time, your
job
?”

“What? No! I just… I need to know. I need to know the truth.”

“And what if the story isn’t what you expect? What if I did kill him? Are you going to have me arrested, charged with murder?” Danny took a step closer. “You fucked me, kept right on fucking me, thinking maybe I killed a man in cold blood?”

Suddenly Miller felt like the one who’d been broken, his heart laid open in front of him. He couldn’t do it, didn’t have it in him to play the FBI agent to Danny’s criminal. Not anymore. But the realization came too late; Danny was already watching him with wary, distant eyes.

“I know you didn’t kill him.” As he spoke the words he realized they were true. He didn’t believe, would never believe, that Danny was a killer.

“You don’t know shit!” Danny cried furiously. “You want to hear this story? Pull up a chair, grab some popcorn—you’re in for a treat.”

“Danny….”

“Oh, don’t stop me now, Miller. You went to such trouble to get the answers, right?”

Miller didn’t respond, wondered how the tables had gotten so Shades of Gray | 191

turned, how he’d ended up the one in the spotlight instead of shining it on Danny.