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shock was coming across as genuine. I at least knew my concern was. “What happened?”
    She paused. “It was a hit and run. I got hit, he ran.”
    “Shit.”
    “Yeah it was shit.”
    “Did they catch the guy?”
    She nodded. “They found him.” But then her lips clamped together, signalling that the conversation was over. Interesting how she didn’t divulge any further. I wondered if she just didn’t want to get into it with a stranger – it wouldn’t be easy to talk about how the man who hit you ended up shot in the head – or if she just didn’t know. Both were possible.
    “When are you out of the hospital?”
    Luz fastened her eyes on me. “How did you know she was still in the hospital?”
    Fuck.
    I lifted one shoulder. “I just assumed. Her arm still has the tape from where the IV goes in.”
    They all looked down at Alana’s arm. Sure enough on her vein in the crook of her elbow, the clear sticker remained.
    “Playing hooky?” I asked, turning the question on them.
    She blushed then coquettishly bit her lip. “Promise not to tell anyone?”
    I made the sign of the cross over my heart. “Hope to die.”
    Her brows furrowed for a half a second before she eased back into her sex kitten grin. I wondered what that was about. She cleared her throat. “They said any day now. It’s what they keep telling me.”
    “Well, I’m no doctor, but if you’re well enough to be out at a bar, accepting drinks from strange Canadians, then you’re well enough to be out of the hospital.”
    “I agree,” she said, raising her beer. “Let’s all cheer to that.”
    We all raised our drinks and clinked again. I held eye contact with her the whole time, trying to read her while trying to tell her something. Mainly that I was a good guy. That I could be trusted.
    Even though, at the heart of it, both of those were lies.
    We sat there for another half an hour until it became apparent that the mention of hospital had taken the wind out of their sails. Dominga kept eyeing the clock on her phone and Luz monitored Alana’s alcohol intake. All the while, Alana was trying to talk with me, ask me question upon question. It was a good thing I came prepared and I knew my fake history as if it were my own. It was a lot easier that way. Some days I even lied to myself about what once was.
    “Well I think we should get Alana back to the hospital before she gets in trouble,” Luz said as she and Dominga got to their feet.
    I rose too, hoping to help Alana out of her chair. “If anyone gives you any trouble, you report them to me,” I told her with a wink.
    “I will,” she said, then gave a resigned sigh as Luz darted over to her to help, beating me to it. Then the two of them started arguing in Spanish, Alana saying she wanted to stay and talk to me, Luz telling her there are other boys when she’s good and ready for them. For some reason, what Luz said rankled me and I had no idea why. Jealously was not my thing. Caring wasn’t either. Couldn’t have one without the other sometimes.
    I walked with them as far as the door – walking them to their car seemed borderline stalkerish – but just as they were about to leave, Alana leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “So if someone does give me trouble, like a mean old nurse, how am I going to get a hold of you?”
    This was unexpected. I knew Alana was flirty and forward from what I’d seen so far, but I didn’t think this would continue beyond this. I don’t know what I really thought would happen after but it wasn’t her basically asking for my number.
    Little warning flags started going off. They weren’t as bold or urgent as the ones I’d gotten when dealing with her arranged assassination, but they were telling me my life would be a lot easier if I let Alana Bernal go and I went on with my sorry little life.
    But I guess my sorry little life felt like it was missing something.
    Stupidity, perhaps.
    So I told Alana where I was staying and the room number. And