by Rebecca Shea
I position myself between Trey and Alex in an attempt to end this pissing contest. “We lost Antonio. He’s cleaned out the compound in Mexico. We’ve frozen all the bank accounts and seized all his property. So where the fuck is he, Alex?”
Alex lets out a condescending laugh. “He has millions stashed here and there and God knows where. Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Don’t fuck with us, Estrada,” Trey warns, stepping out from behind me.
“I have no idea where he is, that’s the truth. And if you two assholes are here, who’s with Emilia?” Alex looks like he’s on the verge of losing it.
I ignore his question. “Alex, you’re in danger and so is Emilia until we can find him. If we can get him, Emilia won’t need a deal or protection. She’ll be safe and can leave all of this behind her. Isn’t that what you wanted? To give her a life? For her to be safe and happy?”
A flash of regret crosses his face. It’s brief, but I catch it, and it makes me wonder. Maybe Emilia is the best route. I should’ve played this card a long time ago.
After a moment, Alex turns his head and stares out the window, his one good hand now balling the white sheet like it’s his lifeline.
I take a calmer approach. “We’ve got the account set up for her with the money you told me about. That’ll last her a lifetime. She’ll be able to go back to school, buy a house, and never worry. You’re giving her a life, Alex, but we need Antonio.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw, and I know I have him now. There is no doubt she’s my golden ticket.
Tension hangs thick in the room. For several long seconds, the only sounds are the light beeps from the machines Alex is still tethered to. The quiet and the sterile smell of this room are enough to make anyone go mad, including me. I’m ready to finish this conversation and leave. Trey is quiet, his eyes bouncing between Alex and me.
Clearing his throat, Alex finally speaks. “I want her with me. I don’t want to let her go.”
I almost scoff. Of course he doesn’t want to let her go, although his admission may be the first honest thing that’s rolled from his tongue in years.
“Do you think of anyone other than yourself, you selfish prick?” Trey fires off in a tirade next to me. “Let her go. Give her and that baby a fucking chance. Don’t drag them down with you, you piece of shit.” Fuck! He did not just say that.
Alex’s head snaps to Trey, his eyes full of rage. “What did you say?”
“Everyone calm down,” I say, but their voices carry over mine.
“You’re a fucking death sentence, Estrada. Give them a chance. Emilia got tangled in your web by chance. Now be a man and let. her. go.”
Alex is turning red with seething rage. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. “Agent Hoffman, get the fuck out of my room. I need a few minutes to talk to Agent Cortez… alone.”
Fuck, fuck!
I want to strangle Trey. My hands are clenched into tight fists at my side and my shoulders rise and fall quickly as I breathe. This is not how I wanted Alex to find out about the baby—in fact, selfishly, I didn’t want him to find out at all. Fuck!
Trey remains rooted in place, and I want to punch the fucking smirk off of his face.
“Now!” Alex growls and, in one swift motion, throws the pitcher of ice water on his hospital table directly at Trey. The plastic pitcher bounces off Trey’s chest and falls to the floor, water now dripping off Trey’s suit. “You fucking—”
Before he can finish, the hospital door flings open and the guard steps in. I take matters into my own hands before this gets ugly, and grab Trey by the shoulders, pushing him back. “Not now, Hoffman,” I bark at him.
He tries to shake me off of him, pointing a finger directly at Alex. “You will pay for that, Estrada!” he hollers over my shoulder. Shrugging me off of him, he stalks toward the door. The guard holds it open and Trey steps out into the hall with the guard right behind him.
I inhale sharply and turn around. “Let me explain,” I say, raking my hands over my face in frustration.
Alex’s eyes are full of rage. “When were you going to tell me?”
I shuffle nervously from foot to foot and finally just tell him. “I brought her to the emergency room the other night to have her head looked at. She hit it pretty good when everything went down. I guess it’s routine that they check for any signs of pregnancy before a CT scan, and that’s when we found out.”
“We? Like you were there?” He flexes his hand, open and closed, open and closed, like if he weren’t chained to the hospital bed, he’d lunge at me and strangle me with that one hand. I’d like to see him fucking try.
“I just told you, I brought her to the hospital,” I bark in frustration.
One of the machines he’s attached to begins to beep loudly, and Alex takes a deep breath. The beeps begin to slow and finally stop all together. “How is she?” he asks.
I run a hand over my face, pinching the bridge of my nose and then my chin. “She’s scared. She’s fucking scared to death. She believes she has no one. She’s worried about money, and she can’t go to work. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do about the baby. She’s holding it together, but barely.”
“She’s considering not keeping it?” His voice breaks, and he tries to conceal it by clearing his throat.
“She’s not sure,” I say honestly. “The hospital gave her paperwork with all of her options.”
Alex lays his head back against his pillow and shifts in his bed, wincing as he adjusts his bandaged arm. His head rolls to side, and he stares at the grey wall in front of him.
“She’s doing the best she can,” I tell him quietly. “I’ve told her money wasn’t an issue, and I promise I’ll do everything I can to keep her safe.”
Alex doesn’t respond, but I see the muscles in his neck move and shift as he swallows.
“I’ll keep them safe, Alex.” It’s a promise to the brother I’ve hated for years, and it’s a promise I worry every minute that I won’t be able to keep. “I need to find Antonio to make that happen, though. As long as he’s free, none of us are safe.”
He nods his head slowly and turns back to me. “I don’t know where he is. I really don’t,” he says honestly, his eyes glistening.
Shit, I believe him. I wish I didn’t.
I rake my hands over my face and look at Alex who, for the first time ever, looks defeated. “I have to plan your funeral. I’ve already told Emilia she couldn’t go. I told her it would be small, formal, and quick. She’s obviously upset, but understands that for her safety, she needs to stay away. I’m hoping this might draw Antonio out.”
“It won’t,” he grinds out, sounding more hopeless than angry now.
I can’t let myself believe that. “Don’t be so sure of yourself. If he thinks Emilia will be at your service, he may show up—and if he doesn’t, he’ll send someone on his behalf. Someone we can pick up and will hopefully lead us directly to him.”
“Sam?” Alex says my name somberly. “You’re not going to find him. I guarantee you he’s gone. His connections in South America are extensive. There are names in the files, but there are people he’s connected to that even I don’t know. My bet is he’s setting up shop in Southern Mexico or Columbia.”
I nod and take that in. It’s not something I haven’t considered. “We’ve got every agency on the case. We’ll find him if it’s the last thing I ever do.” I shift uncomfortably as the heavy silence weighs on us.
Alex’s eyes are glossy and red, and I can see he’s lost in thought. “If I take the deal, what does it mean?” His eyes are fixed on the window again. He won’t look at me.
“The details were outlined in the document I gave you. Once you’ve accepted the agreement, you’ll be briefed by the U.S. Marshall Service and be taken to secure housing. You will remain there as long as we need to meet with you while we build the case, and maybe even once we go to trial. Could be a few weeks, could be months. Once we’ve established our case, you’
ll be given your new identity, a housing subsistence, and medical care. If you need job training, we can arrange for that too. You’ll meet with the prosecutor and can request that in the final details. The most important thing you must follow is you cannot, and I mean cannot, have any contact with unprotected family or business associates. That means Emilia. You cannot find her if you accept this agreement.”
He swallows hard and his jaw ticks. I feel for him, I do. But he needs to know the severity of the situation.
“You need to let her go,” I say quietly.
He clears his throat and moves to speak, then closes his lips and just looks at me. I give him a moment to collect his thoughts and respond, but he shakes his head slowly and remains quiet.
“Another part of the agreement is that you cannot return to Phoenix. You’ll be set up in a new city, a new state, and once you’ve acclimated to your new city and your safety is ensured, you’ll only need to check in with the government once a year, or if you move. You won’t have twenty-four-hour protection like you will while you’re in secure housing. It’s a top-notch program, Alex. And the U.S. Attorney’s office doesn’t agree to this often.”
“I know,” he mumbles almost incoherently. “If I agree to take the deal, to walk away from this, I need to see Emilia first. There’s a lot I have to explain to her and things I need to tell her. Things I didn’t get a chance to say before.”
I shake my head. “Alex, we can’t do that, you know that. You’ve given her what she needs for a fresh start. The baby and her will be fine. I’m going to recommend she change her last name, and I’m sure we can get the court records sealed for her protection—”
“I need to see her!” he bellows.
I take a calming breath, hoping that Alex will also take note and get his rage in check. “Stop. Think about her for once. Think about your baby. Let her grieve you and move on. If she knows you’re alive, she’ll never move forward. Alex, if you love her, give her this. Give them this gift.”
I can’t imagine how he feels right now—the information received today and how he’s processing the decisions he needs to make, but I can’t let him risk her. Or the baby.
“I’ll sign the agreement,” he replies, his voice reluctant and almost heartbroken, twisting with pain. “Bring it to me in the morning and I’ll sign it.”
I look at him for a moment, genuinely surprised, even though this is exactly what I wanted, what we needed. The one person I swore didn’t have a heart or a care for anyone other than himself just made the most selfless decision of his life.
I nod once at his anguished face, keeping my own emotions in check, then I slip out of the room. The walk back to my car is long, and my heart feels heavy. For the first time since taking this case, I want to quit.
TEARS POOL IN my eyes, and I fight the urge to blink. It’s such a foreign feeling; the sting, the burn. I can’t remember the last time I cried.
Actually, I can—at my mother’s funeral.
The lump in my throat is so big, it’s hard to swallow, and I finally stop fighting it when Sam steps out, the click of the latch telling me he’s gone.
I rest my head back against my pillow and inhale a shaky breath. Traitorous tears slide down my cheeks, and I brush them away aggressively with the back of my hand. The taste of salt in the back of my throat chokes me, and I finally swallow. I wonder how many times Emilia has cried. Sam said she was scared, and I fucking hate myself for the pain I’ve caused her.
I should’ve left her alone that first day. I never should’ve stopped my car. She’d be safe right now.
But I wouldn’t trade the time we had together for anything. My chest clenches when I think of how much I love her… and a baby I’ll never know—my baby. Lying here in this goddamn hospital bed, I wrestle with the choices I’ve made in my life. Some good, most shitty. Not that I had a huge say in my career choices. Still, nothing scares me more than the decision to leave Emilia and our baby behind and never look back.
My hospital room door clicks again, and I quickly brush away any evidence of my emotion. I was trained to always have a poker face. Never show my emotions. I’d mastered it until Emilia came along.
An older doctor with grey hair sticks his head in the door. “Mr. Estrada?” I nod. “I’m Dr. Rusten.” He steps inside room. “Is now a good time?” he asks hesitantly, possibly sensing my emotional breakdown.
“Yeah, now is fine.” I take a deep breath.
He sets his laptop on the side table. Sliding the sling off my shoulder, he gently guides my arm out. “I was reviewing the notes in your chart,” he says as he begins unwrapping the gauze from my arm and shoulder. “You’re healing quite nicely. Everyone is in disbelief that you’ve rejected all your pain meds, and depending on how your wound looks, you may be out of here sooner than we expected.”
“How soon?” I cannot wait to get out of this damn bed.
“The next day or two?” He raises his eyebrows when he says it. “You’re young and healthy, and with the right physical therapy, you’ll be as good as new. You’ll have a few scars here along your shoulder, but with proper care, even those will fade.” He points to the incision along the front of my shoulder where they opened me up to pull the bullet out. “Are you able to lift your arm at all?” he asks as he props my elbow in his fingers.
“A little,” I wince in pain as I try to lift my arm.
“I expected it to hurt,” he smirks at me. “You’re doing great. Another week or two of rest and we’ll get you into physical therapy. I’m going to recommend a release date of tomorrow as long as you feel up to it. Does that work for you?”
I nod as he begins rewrapping my arm and shoulder in fresh gauze, and my mind wanders to everything coming for me. Sam said I’d be put into protective housing until they’re done with me, which is when the witness protection and my new alias would take effect.
“You’ll be as good as new in no time.” Dr. Rusten slides the sling back onto my arm and over my shoulder. He reaches for his laptop, pulling it under his arm, then leaves me to wonder what my new life will look like once I’m free of protective custody and the Estrada cartel. I should be ecstatic that freedom is just around the corner, only it feels like a noose around my neck because I won’t be with Emilia.
I shift uncomfortably in the hard bed and reach for the call button, then wait for a nurse to appear. A minute later, the door opens and an older, heavyset woman enters.
“Everything okay?” she asks as she visually inspects me.
“Yes. I’d like to try and shower.” I press the button on the side of my bed, raising the back.
She gives me a regretful smile. “No showers yet. I can bring a small bowl of water, and we can give you a sponge bath, but you can’t get your bandages wet.”
I sigh loudly in annoyance. I know it’s not her I should be annoyed with, but I am.
“I can bring you a razor and shaving cream if you’d like,” she says kindly.
“That would be great. And if it’s okay, I’d like to remove this blood pressure cuff and try to walk for a bit.”
Another regretful smile. “You can’t leave the room, but you’re free to move around here.” She waves her hand through the air of my small hospital room as if it’s some grand space. Sure, sounds like a fucking party. “Just push the cart with your IV bag with you. We’re not ready to detach that yet. I’ll be right back with some water for a sponge bath. You can shave in the restroom.”
She flips on the light of the attached bathroom on her way out, and I slowly dangle my legs off the side of the bed. I struggle to sit up straight, the weight of my bandaged arm and shoulder causing me to lean forward. But for the first time in days, I’m able to inhale deeply, my lungs stinging at the sudden intake of air. I slide forward until my toes touch the cool tile floor, and I finally balance myself as I stand. Damn, that feels good.
I take two steps forward and lean my forehead against the window. The setting is beautiful. The late afternoon sunset is lighti
ng up the Phoenix sky, a fiery bright orange, and the outline of palm trees line the horizon.
“Whoa,” a voice says from behind me, and I turn slowly to see the nurse juggling a bowl of water and an armful of towels. “You should not have gotten up without help,” she scolds me.
“I’m fine.”
She frowns at me in disapproval. “Yeah, I know, tough guy. I read your report. You’ve refused all pain meds, which is crazy. You need to rest to be able to heal. The meds will help you sleep.” She sets the bowl of water on the side table. “Sit down on the edge of the bed.”
I stifle a growl as I obey her order, sitting down and wincing when my arm shifts in the sling.
“See.” She raises her eyebrows indignantly at me. I shake my head as she scolds me.
Reaching behind me, she unties the hospital gown and pulls it carefully down over my shoulders, resting it around my waist. Squirting something into the water, she swirls a sponge around and goes to work, gently wiping my free arm, my neck, and my chest. I close my eyes and let her help me. She works quickly and quietly, paying special attention to my injured shoulder.
“You want to clean yourself?” She gestures to my waist and below.
I smirk and shake my head again. She’s funny and doesn’t take any shit.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen a million times, tough guy. Won’t embarrass me in the least,” she says gruffly.
I like her. I like her no-nonsense attitude. “I got it,” I say, taking the sponge from her.
She shrugs and shakes her hands dry. “I’ll go run a sink of water and get all set up in the restroom to shave you.”
“Just leave it on the sink. I’ll do it,” I say as I lean forward and wipe my legs.
“No can do. Not allowed to leave the razor.”
“Seriously?” I quirk an eyebrow at her.
“Seriously,” she says over her shoulder and she lays out a towel on the edge of the sink. Discreetly, I wipe myself down, tossing the sponge into the bowl when I’m done. Surprisingly, I feel a little better. I hold on to the hospital gown so it doesn’t fall down.