Shades of Gray (26 page)

Even through his grief, Danny offered what Miller needed, reaching a gentle hand up to stroke his hair, murmuring, “
Shhh
…

Miller. It’s all right,” into his ear. And Miller knew that, deserving or not, he had been forgiven.

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DANNY’S clothes no longer fit him; they belonged to a man twenty
pounds heavier and a whole lifetime younger. Fifteen months in
Marion had shed Danny of a lot of things, the least important of which
was weight.

“Hey, Butler, time to go.” The guard motioned him forward,
snickering at the way Danny’s jeans rode low on his hips, one wrong
move away from forming a puddle around his ankles.

Danny kept a hand hovering near his waistband just in case, the
other clutching a plastic grocery sack filled with his prison loot—two
letters from his mother, heavy with recriminations and “how could you
do this to us, Danny?”s, a half-filled tube of toothpaste, and twenty-one
dollars, the sum total of his prison account.

“See ya around, Butler,” the guard said as Danny eased out into
the bright freedom. His brief trips to the yard hadn’t prepared him for
the sun again, the way it burned hot circles into his closed eyelids and
left shimmering imprints behind to mar his vision.

“Thanks,” Danny muttered. He felt scared suddenly, although
escaping from this
place had been the single thought on his mind
during every day he’d spent inside. He wasn’t sure where to go or what
to do; he couldn’t afford even a bus ticket back to Texas.

He had heard nothing from Hinestroza since the day he was
arrested, sold out by a dealer busted with the cocaine he’d just picked
up from Danny. The Feds had leaned hard on Danny, offered him deals
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too good to be true, and tossed out threats like confetti. But he didn’t
give in, refusing to name a single name. His case had landed on the
desk of an over-worked public defender, weary and cynical. She’d
washed her hands of him when he wouldn’t take a plea.

“Danny!” a voice called from across the street, where a stocky
man in dark sunglasses slouched against a black car.

“Yeah?” Danny asked, not moving any closer.

“Get in. I’m giving you a ride.”

“Who are you?”

“Just get in the car. We’re not gonna talk about it out here.”
Danny hesitated, looking up and down the street. The man took a
few steps in his direction. “Mr. Hinestroza sent me,” he said under his
breath.

Danny crossed to the car and got into the backseat, sliding across
the soft leather with a satisfied sigh. “Mr. Hinestroza’s here?” he
asked, addressing the driver’s thick neck.

“No. He’s in Dallas.”

“You’re driving me all the way to Texas?”

“How else were you planning to get there?”
It took them eleven hours to reach Dallas, driving almost without
stopping except for short breaks for gas and food. The driver, who
never told Danny his name, seemed content with silence. And for once,
Danny didn’t mind. He slept almost the whole way, the first
time
in
over a year he’d been able to close his eyes without fear. He woke only
to eat, stuffing down sacks full of greasy hamburgers and too-salty
French fries—trying desperately to fill up the hollow space carved out
of him in prison.

It was near sunset when they drove into downtown Dallas, the
fading orange-pink of the sun reflecting off the glass skyscrapers. The
driver pulled up in front of a swanky hotel, waving away the eager
valet.

“He’s in room 1215. He’s expecting you.” The driver leaned one
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arm on the seatback to peer at Danny over the top of his sunglasses.

Danny scooted his way out of the car, his body screaming in
protest after being bent in half for so long. He felt like an idiot carrying
his plastic bag through the lobby, but didn’t want to leave it behind.

The elevator was mirrored on three sides, affording Danny a too-close view of his gaunt frame, the deep purple circles under his eyes
giving him a haunted look. He licked his palm and smoothed down his
hair the best he could, cringing when he caught a whiff of himself. He
definitely needed a shower.

He knocked on the dark wood-paneled door of room 1215. He
heard the shushing sound of feet on carpet and the door swung inward,
Madrigal grinning at him from the other side.

“Hi, Danny.”

Danny brushed past him into the room, the hairs on the back of
his neck bristling when their bodies shared the same space. He could
never see the man without his thigh throbbing, the reminder always
performing its intended job.

“Danny.” Hinestroza was standing against the windows, the
early evening light
blooming behind him, casting his face into shadow.

“Mr. Hinestroza.” Danny supposed he should be worried, but
knew that if Hinestroza meant him harm, it would have come to him in
prison.

Hinestroza moved forward, stopping inches from Danny’s chest,
his dark eyes pulling at Danny’s—drinking in his secrets, sipping
Danny’s pain like wine.

“You’ve had a hard time, Danny,” he said. “But you’re out now.

And I’m very proud of you.” He enfolded Danny in his arms, hugging
him with strong, thumping pats against his back.

It took Danny a moment to react, to put his own arms around
Hinestroza. They had known each other for more than five years, and
until today had not so much as shaken hands. What started as a
tentative laying of arms across Hinestroza’s back became a comforting
embrace. It had been a long time since anyone had touched Danny
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without violence or indifference. Had been so long since anyone cared
whether he was alive or dead.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing past the urge to cry.

He let Hinestroza go reluctantly and took an awkward step backward,
swiping self-consciously at his nose.

“Why don’t you take a shower? Then we can go to dinner. Talk.”

“Okay,” Danny nodded. “But I don’t have anything else to
wear.”

“I picked up some shit from your apartment,” Madrigal
interjected. “Doesn’t look like it’s your size anymore, though. You look
like hell, Danny,” he added with a wink.

“Shut your mouth,” Hinestroza commanded, snapping his fingers
with a warning pop. Danny couldn’t bite back the smile coaxed from
his lips as he watched Madrigal’s face grow dark with embarrassment.

“You were at my apartment?” Danny asked belatedly.

“I sent Madrigal there to get you a change of clothes.”

“But I thought… with prison and everything, I thought I wouldn’t
have an apartment anymore.”

“I paid for it while you were away. It’s exactly how you left it.”
Hinestroza patted Danny’s cheek, the way his own father never had.

“You do for me, Danny, and I do for you. That’s the way it works.”
How was it possible to loathe and love someone all at the same
time? To know they were responsible for the cesspool of your life and
yet live for their approval? To know they were capable of the most evil
acts and still find the humanity buried underneath? It wasn’t only fear
that kept Danny bound to Hinestroza. It would have been less painful if
it were. But there was loyalty, too, a fierce need in Danny to make
Hinestroza proud. It shamed Danny to know it, but didn’t diminish the
yearning.

“Go on. Get cleaned up.” Hinestroza smiled his cold smile, but
there was a flare of admiration in his eyes, just for Danny. “We’re
going to a nice restaurant. You need some real food.”
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“Thank you,” Danny said, and he meant it. He’d been so alone
when he’d stepped beyond the prison walls with not a single place in
the world to go. And now he had his old apartment back and someone
to eat dinner with and a place where he belonged. Hinestroza bought
Danny cheap. But the truth was, he could have had him for less.

“GODDAMN it,” Miller laughed. “Stop doing that!”

“What?” Danny murmured, his tongue stealing into Miller’s ear.

“This… or this?”

Miller bucked his shoulder, shoving Danny onto his side of the bed, both of them buried beneath the covers, head to toe.

Danny grinned. “You know what this reminds me of, being in bed like this?” His breath floated hot into the air as he talked, their combined exhales steaming up the quilted cave.

“What?”

“When I was a little kid, I used to build forts in my bed. I’d use a whole bunch of pillows and a blanket and sometimes my mom would give me a snack to take under there, too, cookies or a brownie.

Although that was always risky, because my old man would beat my ass if he found out I’d been eating in bed.”

“We used to build forts outside sometimes.” Miller smiled, his skin glowing like a rainbow from the light shining through the patterned bedspread.

“Getting the fort ready was always more fun than actually being in it. I’d get in there, but then I’d be lonely—no one to talk to, no one to share it with.” Danny twined a lock of Miller’s hair around his finger. “I like it better this way… with you.” Miller stared at Danny, his eyes unreadable in the dim light.

Then he pressed forward against Danny’s mouth, palming the back of Danny’s head as they kissed. Danny pushed back the covers with one hand, the warm air in the room feeling almost cold when it hit his overheated cheeks. They’d moved to a new motel two days ago, a nicer 204 | Brooke McKinley

place where the thermostat actually worked.

They’d been careful since their fight, stepping lightly for fear of re-opening wounds. They hadn’t revisited Danny’s revelations about Ortiz, pretended their tears had never fallen. But the aftermath pressed heavy against them, that morning still alive in all the words they did not say.

Danny nipped Miller’s lower lip to get his attention, smiling when Miller groaned softly in response. “We ever going to get out of bed today?”

“I have to soon. I’ve got that meeting with the Assistant U.S.

Attorney at one.”

Danny pulled his hand away too quickly, snagging at Miller’s hair. “Sorry.” Danny flopped over onto his back, tucking one arm behind his head.

“What’s wrong?” Miller asked, leaning over, his eyes coated with a dull sheen of worry.

“Just thinking about what’s coming,” Danny sighed, pulling against his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger. He turned his head to look at Miller. “When I testify, will I be behind a screen or something?”

Miller shook his head. “There’s no point. Hinestroza knows who the witness is against him. It’ll be a closed courtroom, so there’s no harm in having you on the witness stand.” Miller paused. “Why?”

“I wish I didn’t have to look at him when I testify.”

“He won’t be able to hurt you, Danny. He can’t get to you.” Danny didn’t answer, shifting his eyes back to where his feet drew restless circles under the sheet.

“This isn’t about you being scared, is it?”

“I’m scared shitless, Miller, don’t get me wrong. But, no, that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“Then what?” Miller was trying hard to sound understanding, but Danny could hear the impatience trickling into his words.

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“I hate letting Hinestroza down. I hate throwing all the faith he had in me back in his face.” Danny closed his eyes, not wanting to witness Miller’s changing expression.

“What the hell?” Miller exclaimed. “How can you still care about that man, about what he thinks or what happens to him? After what he did to Ortiz? After what he did to you?”

“Hinestroza didn’t kill Ortiz, Madrigal did.”

“Danny….” Miller’s voice gusted out on a wave of disbelief.

Danny was aware how his words must sound, like the ravings of a crazy man, and he wondered briefly if he should censor himself. But he didn’t want to pretend, not with Miller. He wanted to reveal all the complicated, messy parts of him that would never go away.

“I know Hinestroza ordered him killed, Miller. I’m not an idiot.

But he had his reasons for doing it. They may have been cruel and hard, but at least they were reasons. Madrigal killed him because it was fun.”

“You think Ortiz stealing some cocaine is a good enough reason to justify being tortured to death?”

“No, of course not. But Hinestroza doesn’t care about fair. He cares about results. About making sure people don’t cross him or underestimate him. Violence is the way he communicates.”