Crazy Enough

Crazy Enough: Chapter 5

"And how do you plan to do that?"

She grinned over her shoulder. "I am a very charming lady, Alex. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

She tracked Ivan to the backyard of his shop and hunkered down beside him as he changed the tire of an old truck that had seen much better days. "Ivan..."

"No, nińa," he said, cranking the tire iron to loosen a bolt. "I can loan you a vehicle if you need one that bad, but I can't take you. Not with him."

"Ivan, you weren't this biased when you met Daddy."

"Antagonizing the father of my Sophia's husband is rude," he said. "Unless he is your husband, nińa, I do not need to be nice."

"Ivan, please. We can't travel the highways," she explained. "We need to get out of Mexico without being seen."

Ivan stopped his work and looked at her. "What trouble follows you now?"

Corkie glanced away. She'd known Ivan for many years, longer than she'd known Juan. His daughter, Sophia, went to same college as Corkie on a student visa. Then Sophia gained American citizenship after marrying Corkie's middle brother, Joshua. But only Corkie, Josh and Sophia knew the illegalities of Ivan's lifestyle in Mexico. The colonel would probably have a coronary if he knew his daughter-in-law's father smuggled illegal immigrants across the border. And yet, it were those illegalities that got Corkie out of so many scrapes in the past. So, Ivan should probably know what was happening. Maybe he had some insight on the whole mess.

"Hibram Espinoza," she answered his question.

Ivan squinted at her. "So, you're the senorita he's looking for."

Corkie frowned. "What have you heard?"

"Not much," he said, resuming his tire changing. "Word came to me this day of a runaway puta of his, with golden hair...set a high price on her head."

She gasped. "Puta?! Now, that's just insulting! How much is he offering?"

Ivan chuckled. "Sixty-thousand."

"Dollars?"

He shook his head, clearly holding back more laughter. "Pesos."

"Sixty-thousand pesos?! That's...that's only..." She worked the math in her head, but Alex, who came up behind them, finished the equation.

"Five thousand dollars," he said, a wry light of amusement in his gray eyes. "I didn't realize your services were worth so much, Corkie."

"I am not a whore, but I'm worth a whole lot more than five-thousand dollars," she argued childishly. "How dare he!"

"Sixty-thousand pesos buys a lot of food and medicine for some folks," Ivan said calmly, removing the flat tire.

"I suppose it does," she groused, "but it's still insulting."

"Must be that infallible charm of yours," Alex commented, planting his boots in the dirt. He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed around the backyard of the shop. Ivan got the new tire locked into place, and then rose to his feet in front of Alex, not liking the way he spoke of Corkie.

Alex ignored him. Then a curious expression came across his face. He pointed a finger to a far corner of the lot and asked Ivan, "Is that a '39 Crocker?"

Ivan eyed Alex with interest. "You know your bikes?" Ivan asked, and Corkie scrambled to her feet to see what they were staring at. What's a '39 Crocker? Like an old Crockpot? She had two back home. One just for her cheese dip. Why would Alex get excited about a kitchen appliance?