dangerous stuff or nothing. She was, apparently, her parents' child.
Down the hall, plumbing shuddered. Water began to run.
Hurry, Maia thought.
She bought a few seconds showing Lucia the handcuffs she kept in her purse. Lucia seemed to think they tasted pretty interesting.
Maia cursed herself for promising Ralph she'd stop by. The sister was clearly doing fine with the baby. But Maia hadn't been able to resist. Maybe it was her exhaustion, her frazzled state of mind, but earlier that evening, for the first time, she'd actually come close to liking Ralph Arguello.
THEY'D BEEN STANDING TOGETHER ON THE back veranda of Guy White's mansion. Without the glasses, Ralph looked older, weathered, like a Native American in a nineteenth-century photograph, staring across a landscape that was no longer his.
"I screwed up," he said, "cutting Titus loose."
Maia felt so relieved she couldn't speak. Never mind that Titus Roe had tried to kill her. Ever since she pulled him out of his Volvo, she'd known he was as much of an unwilling victim as she. She'd been foolish to bring him to White's house - a sure death sentence. Ralph had spared him. He'd lifted a huge weight from her conscience, and she was completely unprepared to feel so indebted to a man she so disliked.
On the lawn below, Tres was arguing with Guy White, trying to keep the old man and his henchmen from Ralph.
Maia knew Tres would stand in front of a tank if it meant saving Ralph or her.
"Hell of a way for me to repay him," Ralph said, following her eyes. "Tres kept me going, the last twenty-four hours. I haven't done shit but cause him trouble since high school, and he still risks his neck."
"I don't think Tres would see it that way."
"Stupid bastard," Ralph agreed. "Doesn't matter what I do wrong, he still backs me up. Covered my ass a million times. He makes me nervous."
Under different circumstances, Maia might've found that funny. Ralph Arguello, nervous of Tres.
"Did Roe tell you anything?" she asked.
"He wasn't going to. Said to go ahead and kill him, knew he was dead either way. Two years, three years ago, I would have shot him." Ralph leaned against the marble railing, rubbed his face with his hands. "Having a family, Maia . . . I don't know. First day I held Lucia Jr., it was like part of me went into her. Like she tapped me out. I can't kill people anymore. Even with Johnny Zapata, I hesitated. I kept seeing my baby. Does that make any sense?"
Maia reached over and squeezed his hand.
At the base of the steps, Guy White was not getting any happier. His men were closing ranks around Tres, like they were about to put him under house arrest.
"You need to go," Ralph told her. "Tres and I will manage. You gotta get out before White decides you're his guest, too."
"I can't leave you two."
"Keep searching. Check on the baby for me." Ralph looked over, and Maia was surprised by the sadness in his eyes. "I'd do anything for Tres. Used to figure he would be the one with the normal life - marriage, kids. I figured he'd have those things and I could kind of enjoy them through him."
Ralph reached into his shirt pocket, unfolded a thin piece of printed paper, like an oversized receipt. He handed it to Maia.
One glance and she understood what it was, but she was mystified how Ralph got it.
"In Titus Roe's pocket," he said. "Gave it to me after I cut his ropes. He wouldn't tell me who he got it from, but he said I'd figure it out. Said he owed me that much."
Men were coming around the edges of the veranda now, working their way toward Ralph.
"Take it," Ralph said. "Figure out who's left that we can trust."
Who's left we can trust.
For the first time, when he used the word we, Maia realized that Ralph trusted her. He approved of her. And when he talked about Tres having a normal life, having a family, he was including Maia as a given.
She didn't want to leave, but she knew Ralph was right. She had no choice.
She pecked him on the cheek, promised to see his child, and slipped into the mansion as Guy White's men came to secure their disobliging guest.
THE BABY HAD THOROUGHLY SLIMED UP the handcuffs and was now checking out Maia's knee, tiny fingers grabbing at the fabric. Her wispy hair was braided and tied with plastic clips. The