Cadillac Payback: Rising Tide by AJ Elmore (grave mercy .TXT) 📗

her detach. If she thinks too much, I'll lose her. So I say, “Well, today we're tourists. Let's go.”

I nudge her arm with my elbow, just a little contact to remind her of the present instead of the past. It's also a safe enough gesture that this won't turn sexual. Not quite yet, anyway.

For an exaggerated stretch, I believe I've already lost her. She doesn't answer, and doesn't look away – if she was ever actually looking at me. Then she turns back toward the aquarium without ever cracking her solemn expression, and she says, “Fine.”

At the ticket booth, I ask for two tickets in my best southern accent, making sure to draw out the word “Ma'am.”

As the cashier flatly takes my money, and waits for our tickets to print, I prattle.

“This is our first time here in N'awlins, we're just so excited to see everything. Ain't that right, sugar?”

I turn to Maria with a wink. She's staring back, her lips a flat line. The cashier has been baited, and I have drawn the attention to Maria. So she mutters in Spanish, “You're a crazy mother fucker.”

She adds in English, “So excited,” and gives the woman behind the glass a big, fake smile.

“There's a first time for everything, eh?” I ask softly, so that it stays between Maria and me, and I hear her stifle a gasp.

The cashier doesn't answer, and doesn't really smile back as she shoves the tickets through the slot. I make sure the drawl is thick when I say, “Thanks so much, miss.”

If there's one thing locals hate more than any other, it's tourists.

Soon enough, we're wandering into a glimmering world of blue and sleek creatures swimming all around us. We glide among the real tourists, mostly families with a couple kids each. They pass us by without ever looking us in the eye.

If they did look, they'd never guess at our true occupations. Hell, they wouldn't even notice that we're not like them. We're not toting around the obvious signs of out-of-towners, or snapping pictures of every damn flower and streetlight we see.

Still, there's something peaceful about the aquatic life, flipping around their big tanks. There's no way they're oblivious of the presence of people, but they don't have the capacity to give a shit about them. Must be nice. Where do I sign up for “fish in my next life”?

The feeling seems to be mutual. The presence of the awesome and terrible swimmers puts something in Maria at ease. Her steps are ambling, and her eyes are wide as they lazily take in the fantastic sights. Her expression is blank, free of the sadness and stress I've seen there the last several days.

Sure, the fish are great, but they can't compare to the sight of her when she's not at war. She's so mesmerized that she doesn't notice me watching her. I'm so into the moment that I nearly run into a kid, eighteen maybe, wearing an aquarium uniform.

We notice each other at the same time. I'm quick on the dodge, stepping to the side, and I'm reaching for the gun I'm not wearing. He puts a lock on the brakes as I turn a glare on him. He stops in his tracks and begins apologizing profusely. Maria turns startled eyes on the scene, and I lift my hands in the air, a gesture of peace. We were looking at the same thing.

There was a time when I wasn't so quick on the defensive. Oh, how much can change so fast. I've come too far to choose any other life now.

Maria gives the kid a passing smile that leaves him watching us move on. It comes easily from her, like it used to, when she would catch men looking at her, and leave them a fumbling mess by flashing that goddamned smile. Charlie used to get so mad. And now I completely understand.

I let her lead our slow drift, and her languor is contagious. The primal need to protect her can rest here, among these big-eyed, exotic creatures of the depths. This idea was supposed to be for her to relax, but it seems to be working on me, too. Well, that's part of my idea, anyway.

We wander into a tunnel that goes under a massive tank, so that we're surrounded by blue light and sea life. Her steps lull to a stop and her gaze crawls around above us. The only other people here are a young couple with a child of about five.

The kid bolts toward the other end of the tunnel, and as mom goes to chase the little boy, dad notices we're here. Well, not me. His eyes land on Maria, and his expression lifts the way a man looks when suddenly confronted with undeniable beauty. He stares until his wife's voice startles him, and now he sees me. I smirk.

Caught ya, motherfucker.

He ushers his little family out of the tunnel, and he doesn't look back. Maria never even notices them. She has stepped up to the glass, and is watching some kind of shark slowly circle in front of us.

I do another quick check of the scene to make sure we're alone, then step up behind her. I don't get close enough to touch her, but I know she feels me, because she tenses. I lean my lips in her ear, and softly say, “Once upon a time, I felt like this was my world, full of sharks – waiting to devour me.”

Her breath has caught in her throat, and she's so still I'm afraid she'll shatter. I can't quite see her expression, so I can't tell which emotional trigger I'm about to fondle. Once upon a time. Ha. I would have tread lightly.

“Now,” I say. “I'm just another shark.”

She turns her head so that my lips almost brush her cheek. She wants to see my expression, too, to read me. But I've taken a position that denies her that. She's too close to the glass to turn her