Page 79 of Great White
“Puta,” I spit at him, then storm into the bathroom. I lock the door before kicking it. If he thinks he’s going to boss me around, he’s got another thing coming.
“Dove.” He bangs on the door, and the crappy thing shakes. Not very sturdy, but it will have to do for now.
“Go to hell, Tate.”
“You can’t stay in there forever.”
“Watch me,” I scream.
* * *
I have been movedfrom one jail cell to another.
I have spent the better part of the day holed up in another eight-by eight-room. At least I have my own shower in this one.
I can hear every move Tate makes through the thin walls. His incessant pacing has the floor constantly creaking. He has long abandoned trying to lure me out of the bathroom. Which I’m both annoyed about and grateful for. I hate splitting emotional hairs.
Being alone has given me way too much time to think. Too much time to evaluate my situation and figure out what the right decision is.
Flipping on Stefania is the worst possible scenario. And yet that’s what Tate wants. It’s what everyone wants. The big fish. She’s not even that big compared to some drug lords, but I guess that’s what made the Deltoros an easy target.
I hear a knock at the door, then footsteps, followed by multiple sets of footsteps. Tate’s “friend” is here.
“Dove, open up and come out. I’m through playing games.” Tate bangs on the bathroom door. “I’ll take it right off the damn hinges if I have to.”
“I brought a hammer and screwdriver to prove it,” a voice I don't recognize says.
“Fuck, fine,” I give in. I’m tired of being cooped up anyway. I swing open the door to a frazzled-looking Tate and an older man with white-gray hair and matching mustache.
He looks at me once-over. “I thought you’d be taller.”
“Big things come in small packages.” I march straight between them into the living area, if that’s what you want to call it.
“Yeah, like explosives,” Tate mutters under his breath.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I take a seat at the lonely table and chair in the corner of the room.
Tate and his new friend exchange a look before the man approaches me. He drops a notebook in front of me and a pen. “I’m Agent Taylor.”
“Nice to meet you.” My response is dry.
“You’re clearly charmed,” he retorts. “Now, let’s get down to some business. In exchange for the government’s protection, you’ll provide as many details as you can about the Deltoro cartel.”
“I don’t remember making such a deal.” I’m obstinate.
“Dove,” Tate scolds me.
I glare at him.
“Look, Dove,” Taylor says my name like he’s testing it out. Like he isn’t sure if it’s real. “I’m not sure if you understand the severity here. Someone is trying to kill you. You have no allies left, except us, and this chucklehead just risked his entire career to save your life. Which, he isn’t out of the woods yet, 'cause he still has to deal with me.” Taylor glances back at Tate. They sort of have this father/son vibe going on. Or maybe mentor/mentee. Either way, I pick up on the way Tate responds to him. Taylor pushes the notebook toward me. “Put your pride aside and help everyone in this room out.”
I stare down at the marbled cover of the book. “I feel like I’m incriminating myself if I put anything on those pages.”
“Quite the opposite. The deal is, you help us, we’ll help you.”
“The problem is, I don’t trust anyone in this room.”
“Well, you're gonna have to get over that, 'cause not everyone is out to get you.”
