by Rona Jameson
“Shouldn’t you have already checked?” I ask.
“Not really. Tunnels between Mexico and the US are common. Not so much here as we’re not exactly a border town.”
“Regardless of tunnels, I want the Reverend to pay for killing Mom and Roman, but my priority has changed. Wren’s safety means more to me at the moment. I need her safe.”
“I’ve told you agents are watching her.”
I frown at Jeremiah and ask, “What exactly do you mean by that?”
He winces. “The Reverend has taken her to Padre’s in town.”
“The bar!” I jump to my feet and concentrate on breathing before I say something I can’t ever take back. Once I feel calm enough, I ask, “There are agents inside, right?”
“Yes. Ken put two agents in town just in case. They’re posing as a couple. The Reverend may be aware they’re agents. Strangers stick out like sore thumbs. But he knows he’s being watched.”
“Can’t they arrest her or something and get her out of town?”
“Rafael,” Dad admonishes. “She is the woman you love. You cannot have her arrested for that reason without her prior knowledge. Jeremiah says she is not in any danger right now. She is probably safer with the Reverend while he unloads the drugs.”
Moving away from Dad and Jeremiah, I rest my hands on the windowsill in the front room. I can hear them talking about the Reverend and the opium. Having grown his own will give him a very lucrative profit. How much depends on how many kilos he’s been able to make. A more popular way is to bring in the opium from China or South America, but that costs a lot of money and his profit wouldn’t be anywhere near what he will get for growing his own.
It was the drug trail that led us to the Reverend’s location. He’d been a ghost until one of his men had screwed up. Within a month, Dad and I had taken up residence in the house Mom had left him—next door to Wren.
38
WREN
THE MOMENT we enter the bar, the Reverend makes me sit at a table toward the back before placing a cola in front of me. “Drink, and don’t move.” He turns his back, leaving me alone in this rough place. Apart from a couple near the entrance, I’m the only female in here.
My gaze drifts back to the Reverend and I catch sight of three men in the room he’s entering before the door closes. At the last minute, a different man grabs the door from the Reverend and stares directly at me. My belly flutters with fear as I go hot and cold. That man is dangerous—tall, dressed all in black. Even the scruff on his face is black, but it’s the look in his eyes as he focuses on me that I find terrifying.
“Ignore them,” the bartender says, placing a bottle of water on the table. “You look thirsty.”
Recognition dawns as I stare at the boy. “You went to my school, not long ago either.”
He looks uncomfortable, so I mumble, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I did go there,” he whispers. “I was needed here.” He shrugs. “So, I left. No big deal.” He didn’t appear as though it was no big deal. “Just drink the water, okay? You look as though you could do with something stronger, but I don’t think the Reverend would allow it.”
I offer him a small smile. “Thank you.” The bottle hasn’t been opened, so I twist off the cap and take a really long swallow. The water is cold and wet and feels nice going down my parched throat. I shouldn’t allow my nerves to get the better of me. However it’s difficult. There is an uneasy feeling in my belly because of how quickly out of the norm things are happening.
My life hasn’t been a happy one, I will be the first to admit that. But it had a steady rhythm to it. I knew what to expect. I always had food on the table, and a warm bed to sleep in at night.
All these years, I’ve ignored what has been going on under my nose, and I can’t even say there had been any signs there. It only became apparent that something was going on after Marcel and Rafael had moved in next door. The Reverend knew who they were from the start.
I glance around the bar remembering the barman’s name. Andrew Chatsworth. He rolls his sleeves up as I watch and pours drinks into glasses at the bar. Four men occupy the seats, ignoring Andrew.
The smell of cheesy nachos reaches my nose and makes my taste buds water. It’s been so long since I’ve eaten them—it isn’t a food the Reverend likes.
“Wren?”
Sighing, I ignore the voice in my head calling my name and think about Tiger Lily. He won’t be here for much longer. Another will appear in his place, but it won’t be my Tiger Lily.
“Wren?”
I wish the voice would shut up.
“Wren?” My name is shouted, followed by hands clapping in my face. I blink, snapping my eyes up to the Reverend, who looks ready to blow a gasket.
“I’m sorry. I don’t feel well,” I mumble as an excuse.
He sees through me but lets the lie go.
“Come.”
Grabbing my arm, he hauls me out of the chair, none too gently either. A beer mat falls from my hand that I’d been absently picking at before the Reverend ushers me toward the back room. My stomach rolls at the thought of being in that room with the scary guy. I try to dig my heels in, but the Reverend is stronger, and I get nowhere other than propelled forward.
The door opens and closes with me inside before I can catch a breath. I feel hot and flushed as my nerves dance. I wipe the sweat from my palms only to feel them coated again. I can’t help it. I’m scared. The man with the scar on his face, whom I think is in charge, stares at me as though he’s debating something. A sense of evilness comes off of him and I want to run. Maybe if I can get the two bricks in my shoes to move then I will be able to. I feel sluggish and I know it’s because of how scared I am.
I’m left propped up against the grungy wall so the Reverend can go and whisper to the man. They mumble amongst themselves with two other men joining in. I sense someone close and when I turn my head to look, it’s Silas. I’m surprised to see him here and when I catch his eye, I know I don’t have to say anything. Knowing what I know, he can’t be here as himself. The Reverend wouldn’t trust him at all if he knew he was my mother’s brother.
“Wren can go!” The Reverend volunteers. “I’ll go with her.”
Hearing my name, I turn my attention back to the other men in the room. They are all staring at me. My heart leaps into my throat and air rushes out of my lungs. Panic begins to overtake me, and I try to will my legs to run—only they’re not listening. Silas goes tense beside me as though he’s expecting trouble. I should be saying something right now, but nothing will come out of my mouth. I can’t even think of words to say. What am I being volunteered for? It can’t be good if these men are involved.
“Jonas.” The evil man looks at Silas. “You go with Wren and make sure she does as she is told. No funny business.”
“What?” the Reverend hisses, and I can tell he is angry.
Finally! He’s standing up for me.
“I do not want Jonas going.”
I should have known.
“He is going with your daughter.” The man has spoken and from the look of defeat on the Reverend’s face, it is clear who is really in charge in this room.
My hope has completely disintegrated for any chance that the Reverend cares about me. None. Gone. The knowledge must be clear on my face because the Reverend takes a second glance at me before he turns to the man.
“Ezequiel”—he has a name—“I do not want him anywhere near my daughter.”
The man, Ezequiel, laughs. “You do not trust Jonas with your daughter.” He laughs some more. “That is funny, my friend. Tell me.” He runs his eyes over me, becoming serious. “Would you trust me with your daughter?”
I can tell it’s on the tip of the Reverend’s lips to argue and tell Ezequiel hell no, but he stays silent.
“I thought not.” Ezequiel continues to stare at me, and I focus on a red mark on the wall over his shoulder. “You killed Wild for being obsessed with precious
Wren, you don’t have the balls to try and kill me, huh?”
The Reverend is bright red and furious, but he still does or says nothing.
Ezequiel is most certainly in charge.
Silas steps closer to me, and says, “I will protect her and get the job done.”
“I like you, Jonas. Do not screw this up.” Ezequiel moves away from the Reverend, which I think is for the best as he looks like he’s ready to do something.
Ezequiel’s men must think so too as they have their hands on their weapons at their sides.
“Are we good Reverend?” Ezequiel asks.
The Reverend swallows and breathes deeply before he answers. “My daughter won’t let you down.” He glares at me as he says this.
I see the promise of retribution in his eyes if I screw this up—whatever this is.
“I’m done with this discussion.” Ezequiel snaps his fingers. “Diego, bring the packages in here.” To me, he asks, “You have a book bag for school?”
Swallowing, I nod.
The Reverend adds, “It’s in the car.” He disappears from the room.
“What am I doing?” I ask, my words barely a whisper.
“Something very important,” Ezequiel says. “Give us a few minutes.” With that said, he walks out with his men, leaving me and Silas alone.
Finally, able to breathe properly, I turn to Silas, who subtly shakes his head. While I search his eyes, he moves them over to the desk and back to me. He does it two more times and then it hits me.
“Oh!” The room is bugged or something close to it. At least, I’m presuming that’s what he meant with the weird back and forth.
Silas offers a wry smile.
“You know what they want me to do?” I ask knowing he does. It will look weird if we don’t say anything.
“No.”
“You wouldn’t tell me if you did know.” I push.
“You’re right.”
I wrap my arms around my stomach. “Did the Reverend really kill Peter Wild because of me?”
That does get Silas’s attention. “That was the first time I’d heard anyone admit Wild disappearing had anything to do with the Reverend.”
I believe him.
“He gave me the creeps.”
Silas nods and quickly moves to lean back against the wall beside the door. A quick escape, no doubt. I want to ask other questions and it’s frustrating knowing I can’t right now. I also want to tell him about Wild’s house. I don’t exactly want him to see what Wild had done to his room, but I think he needs to know.
Frowning, I wonder about the house. Rafael had thought they planned on torching the place, but I didn’t see any signs of fire or hear any sirens. There wasn’t even a smoky smell in the air. What did they do to it? We certainly saw them dosing it with something out of cans. Trying to think of a way to ask Silas without anyone hearing me, I open my mouth but don’t get the chance.
Silas overrides what I was about to say. “They’re back.”
The door opens and in they walk.
The Reverend tosses my book bag onto the table and helps Ezequiel transfer two packages into my bag. Are they the drugs Marcel was asking me about?
Ezequiel drops my bag on the old wooden table in the center of the room with a thud.
I lick my lips as all eyes turn to me. Sweat trickles down my back as I wipe at my brow. My hair is damp with perspiration and I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“Here,” Silas says, passing me a bottle of water.
Staring at him and then the water, I ignore the smirk in his voice when he tells me, “It’s a fresh bottle. Still sealed.”
Blood rushes through my head and I can hardly think as Silas stoops so he can look into my face. “Wren.” He waves a hand in front of my face.
“What?”
He smiles. “Drink.”
I watch him twist the cap to open the water and then slowly I drink as he holds it to my mouth. The cold liquid goes down and helps to settle my thoughts. For a moment there, I felt like I was watching someone else in the room. That I wasn’t really here.
Wishful thinking!
“Get away from her,” the Reverend snaps at Silas, reminding me I really am in the room. To Ezequiel, he says, “I don’t know why I can’t go with her. She’s my daughter.”
“Stop whining like a baby.” He shakes his head. “You are too stressed, my friend. First DeLacroix moves into town, and then the DEA raids the church. Your mind is on bigger problems and that will cause you to screw up. This cannot go wrong, so shut your mouth.”
The Reverend snaps his mouth closed, and I want to laugh. This whole situation I find myself in is scary, but being witness to the Reverend being told to shut up makes me want to laugh. No one dares to talk to him in that way, but he’s taking it from the man they call Ezequiel.
“You know what to do,” Ezequiel says to Silas. “Keep under the speed limit. Do nothing wrong. Wren is your daughter for the day.” He laughs while my eyes go to the Reverend. He clenches his fists and says nothing, getting angrier by the second.
“I’ll go alone,” Silas says. “I don’t need the girl with me.”
“It is nonnegotiable. She goes. You are less likely to be stopped if she goes with you. You know this.”
“She was there when they had the DEA crawling all over the church, which her father owns. You don’t think they’ll be suspicious?”
“All the more reason to take her with you.” He slams a fist onto the table. “I am done arguing. Jonas goes. She goes. Now!”
Silas curses under his breath and swipes up the book bag before turning to me. “Let’s go.”
I don’t need telling twice and rush from the room as Silas walks beside me. “I don’t like this, Wren. Something is off.”
“We could ask Marcel and Rafael for help,” I whisper.
“No! It’s best they stay in the dark. The Reverend has a couple of men watching their house. He knows they’re watching him.” Silas opens the car door and places a hand on my arm, stopping me from climbing inside. “The Reverend knows about you and Rafael.”
“I feel sick.” The words escape before I can stop them. I don’t think I’m actually going to puke but I don’t feel too good as we get into the car and Silas drives us away from town. “I don’t get how he knows. No one was around when we were together.” My panic must show on my face.
Silas shakes his head. “There are cameras all over the place, Wren. Twenty-four seven. That’s what you nearly walked in on that day in the basement of the church.”
“Oh.” I really don’t know what to say to that bit of information while I try and remember exactly what Rafael and I have done outside. I don’t think it’s much—we may have been caught. “Oh no, they caught us at the cabin.”
“Unfortunately, yes. They were planning on torching it until one of the guys watching the footage called the Reverend to warn him.”
All color drains out of me at the thought of the house still standing. “The photographs,” I whisper.
“Hey, what’s wrong? What photographs?”
Sitting back in the seat, I concentrate on breathing in and out slowly, waiting for my panic to go so I can think clearly. Silas turns the air conditioning up, which helps, except I’m left with my skin feeling clammy.
“Wren?”
Slowly turning, I look at my uncle, and use my mouth but not my voice to question, “Is the car bugged?”
He shakes his head. “No. If it was, I’d have gotten a notification on my phone. There is GPS tracking, so they’ll know if we deviate.”
Nodding, I whisper, “Wild had photographs of me.” Tears blind my eyes but don’t fall. “They were all over his bedroom.”
Inhaling deeply, I curl up in the seat and watch Silas.
His body is tense, and anger radiates from him. A few moments later, he curses and bangs his fist on the steering wheel. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll get this job done, then we’ll swing by Wild’s house and m
ake sure they disappear.” He grabs my hand. “I promise, Wren. We’ll remove the images and burn the things. I won’t let anyone else see them.”
I tangle my fingers with his. “When this is all over, can we spend some time together? You’re the only family I have other than the Reverend, and I don’t think he likes me being his family.”
“You’re wrong. I don’t think he knows how to be a father, but he stands up for you with the men.” He pauses. “The Reverend had promised Wild that on your eighteenth birthday he could marry you. Wild didn’t want to wait. I had no idea the man was more than infatuated with you. Makes me wonder if that’s why the Reverend killed him. But he didn’t like the idea of me coming with you today. He doesn’t like any man being close to you. The only reason he hasn’t put a stop to you and Rafael is because of who Marcel is. Doesn’t appear to be making any difference, though. The DEA still raided the church.”
My head hurts with everything turning around inside of there, But I wouldn’t go back to a time when I didn’t know Rafael existed and I was clueless. I’ve changed because of him. My eyes are wide open.
Or maybe not. I straighten in the seat, and ask, “Are there really drugs in my bag?”
“Wondered if you’d ever ask.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “The less you know, the better.”
“You’ve just answered my question,” I announce. “We’re delivering drugs for them. Where?”
Silas sighs. “The river.”
“We’re meeting buyers at the river.” I shudder.
“It’s abandoned. Secluded. The best place.” The car starts bouncing over potholes in the old side road. “Stay close to me, and don’t forget to call me Jonas.”
“I’m nervous,” I whisper. “Scared to death.”
“You’re safe, Wren.” He frowns. “Having the Reverend as your father makes you safe around anyone in town.”
“They’re not from town, right?”
“No, they’re not.”
39
RAFAEL