to Liza with a gentle smile. “I understand now. Do you want me to come in with you or wait out here?”
Liza folded the sketch and put it back in her bag. “I think I should talk to him first and feel him out. You might need to stay out here the whole time.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I can watch for trouble better from out here. What about Daisy?”
Liza turned to the back seat. “What do you think, Daisy?”
Daisy grimaced. “Maybe I should wait here with Gideon until you calm him down. Text me when I should come in. I’ve got e-mail to catch up on, so it’s fine.”
“Good luck,” Gideon said sincerely. “Wave if you need us.”
Liza hoped that she wouldn’t. Please let Sergio know something. Please let him tell me.
Sergio stood behind the counter, welcoming her with a wide smile. He appeared to be in his midthirties. “I’m Sal Ibarra.” His new name. “You must be Liza?”
“I am,” Liza said.
“Please come in.” He motioned her to a sitting area.
“Can we talk a little first?” Liza asked when they were seated.
“Of course. You’ve booked out my afternoon, so you must know what you want.”
“I do.” She patted her handbag. “I made a sketch.” She drew a breath. Forward, soldier. Just do it. “I’m hoping you’ll still be willing to tattoo me after we’ve talked.”
Fear flickered in his eyes. “What is this?”
“Nothing bad,” Liza assured him. “I’m not law enforcement. I’m a normal person.”
Sergio edged forward, looking like he was preparing to bolt. “A normal person,” he repeated.
“Well, I served in the army,” Liza amended. “But I’m not a cop and I’m not FBI or ICE. I wanted to talk to you about a tattoo you did.” From her handbag, she pulled a copy of the Eden tattoo that he’d posted on his old Instagram account. “This one.”
Sergio lurched to his feet. “No. Please go. The last time someone talked to me about this, the FBI came. I am not a criminal.”
Liza slowly rose, her hands out in an attempt to calm him. “Mr. Iglesias, please, just hear me out. I don’t believe you are a criminal. I think you’re a father trying to support his family. But my family is in danger right now and I really hope you can help us.”
Sergio still looked ready to run. “Why? Why are you interested in this tattoo? It’s old.”
“Because it’s a symbol of slavery. My friend was forced to wear a locket with this design on a chain around her neck. A dog chain. Nothing pretty. Her brother was forced to get the tattoo. Both were assaulted. Both nearly died, but they were able to escape. Now they’re in danger because the people who hurt them don’t want them to talk.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sergio sank back down to the sofa and seemed to deflate. “But I don’t want any trouble.”
“You won’t get any trouble from us,” Liza promised.
Sergio tensed again. “Us?” He looked through the window to Gideon’s Suburban parked on the curb. “Who is ‘us’?”
“The people who don’t want my friends to talk tried to shoot me a few days ago, so I brought protection. We don’t care if you’re undocumented or not. I swear.”
Sergio’s jaw tightened. “But I’m not undocumented. I’ve had a green card since I was a boy, just arriving from El Salvador with my parents. But a customer of mine didn’t like the tattoo I gave her, even though she signed off on the design before I started. She threatened to have me deported. I told her I had a green card, but she said that her father was with ICE and that it wouldn’t matter. Men claiming to be ICE agents came to my old studio and threatened me. I don’t know if they were ICE or not, but they scared me. And they scared my wife.”
Liza ignored the temper that fizzled under her skin on his behalf. “The FBI showing up at your old studio must have been terrifying.”
“It was. My wife, my child . . . they were very afraid. Not for themselves. My wife is a citizen. She was born in Florida. But she was afraid for me, afraid I’d be deported.”
“I’m so sorry.” Liza considered hiding Gideon’s profession, but she was asking this man to trust her. She couldn’t lie to him. “Full disclosure: Daisy Dawson came with me. She’s the one who contacted you before. She’s waiting in the truck with her boyfriend, Gideon. He’s the friend who was forced