by K. A. Ware
Three men mobbed into the living room, their huge frames taking up too much space in the tiny apartment. I reached between the cushions for the .22 we kept there, but my unfamiliarity with the weapon made me clumsy and cost me precious time. By the time I wrestled the gun free and held it in my shaky hand, one of the massive guys was on me.
I didn't have a chance to react or brace myself for the blow. His heavy fist came down on the side of my face, and I heard the bones in my cheek snap before the searing pain came. The gun dropped from my hand and clattered to the floor. I listened to the sounds of scuffling, but I couldn't see anything past the mammoth who was continuing to rain down blows on my body.
I'd managed to curl myself into a ball so that his punches were mostly isolated to my left side. He must've gotten bored beating the shit out of a girl in the fetal position because he grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me off the couch. I tried to kick out, punch, scream, anything, but my body wouldn't cooperate. Each shallow breath I was able to take sent a stabbing pain through my chest. I absently recognized that my ribs were probably broken.
As he pulled my limp body across the dingy carpet, I caught a glimpse of my brother fighting with the biggest of the men. He wasn't landing any significant hits, but he was still on his feet, which was more than I could say for myself. I tried to search for Luis, but the man's grip on my hair made it impossible to move my head. Belatedly, I realized he was dragging me further away from the others and down the hall.
Tears that had been absent during the beating sprang in my eyes as I understood what he was doing. The fear of death was nothing compared to the horror of knowing you were about to be raped. Apparently, pulling a lifeless body by the hair took too long because the man reached down clasped his giant paw around my bicep and yanked so hard and at such an angle that I felt it dislocate. The scream that I hadn't been able to manage before came ripping through my throat so loudly that my capture actually paused.
The reprieve didn't last; he paused just long enough to backhand me across the face, before gripping my other arm, this one slightly less violently and pulling me the rest of the way into the bedroom. He dropped my arm, letting my upper body collapse to the floor haphazardly.
My head lulled to the side, and I caught the glimmer of the dull kitchen knife I'd been using as a screwdriver to fix my drawer, underneath my dresser. The pounding in my head, coupled with the fact that one of my eyes had completely swollen shut, made it difficult to focus, but I managed. The man looming above me began unzipping his pants. Panic seized all coherent thoughts, and I was frozen in place, my body too broken to move.
The man got down on his hands and knees, crawling over me, his thighs straddling mine. His breath was hot against my face as he leaned in and spat out the first words he'd said during the entire attack.
"Your daddy doesn't want you dirtying his name, so he sent us to take care of you."
He leaned back on his knees and focused his attention on my belt and pants. I bit my swollen lip in an effort to stop myself from crying out as I inched my sill working arm under the dresser. The pain was so intense; it was a miracle I was able to stay conscious.
I felt my hand wrap around the hilt of the knife just as he got my belt open and started to yank at the waistband of my pants. I only had one shot at this, if it didn't work, I was dead.
Gathering the last of my strength I raised my knee up as hard and fast as I could, catching him squarely in the balls and pulled the knife out from under the dresser. I'd known I wouldn't have the strength to stab him and do any damage, so I brought the blade to my side and held it there upright with the hilt to the floor as he doubled over and fell directly on top of me and the knife. His weight was enough to cause the dull blade to sink deep into his abdomen.
I twisted the handle, trying to inflict as much damage as possible. He screamed in agony and rolled off and away from me. Free from his massive size, I sucked in a deep breath, which caused me to start coughing. The taste of blood filled my mouth, and I was momentarily distracted. I didn't see the man get to his knees or the bloody knife in his hand until he was bringing it down over me. A scream caught in my throat as I watched the blade come closer, and then in a blur of movement, it was gone, and so was the man.
Unable to move my heavy limbs I turned my head to see Luis' back as he crouched over the man, the gruesome gleam of a bloody knife in his hand as he brought it down over and over again, stabbing into the lifeless man's torso. He only stopped when Santi came running into the room and pulled him off. Luis was shaking and covered in blood, it was terrifying.
Santi and Luis were bruised and bloody, but other than that, okay. I, on the other hand, was barely conscious and coughing up blood. Santi insisted on driving me to the hospital, but I made him drop me off on the street and hobbled into the emergency room. I told the doctors that I'd gotten jumped on my way home from school. They called the police, and I stuck to my story, giving them a false account of the attack.
The worst of my injuries were two broken ribs and a punctured lung, which kept me in the hospital for several days with a chest tube. The day I was released from the hospital Santi, and Luis picked me up with all of our stuff crammed into the car, and we left L.A. driving straight through to Portland.
They wouldn't tell me what they did with the three dead bodies, just that they had taken care of it and cleaned the apartment. We never discussed it further or told anyone about what had happened.
Santi and I changed our names, and the three of us started a new life in Portland. Edgar didn't even know what had happened. We'd simply told him that we couldn't get anyone to talk to us and moved north for a better opportunity. In the thirteen years since I hadn't heard my father's name again.
I pulled in front of my uncle's house, the one Luis and I had bought for him when he was released from prison. Turning off the engine, I sat there for a moment, shaking off the bad memories and preparing myself for what might come.
I wasn't the same naïve kid as I was then, I had experience and enough classes and training under my belt to ensure I was never that vulnerable again. The only thing that I wasn't prepared for was the pain I felt at the knowledge that the man who'd raised me had also been the one to stab me in the back. I knew it was foolish to hold onto the version of him from when I was a kid, especially since he'd proven time and time again since my aunt died that he was no longer the same person.
Reaching into my center console, I pulled out my Glock and checked the magazine before tucking it into the back of my pants and stepping out of the car. I could already imagine what I was going to find as I walked up the stone path that led to the front door. It was only seven in the morning on a Tuesday; he was probably still sleeping off the night before.
Using my key, I unlocked the door and let myself in. The house stank of stale beer and something sour. There were blankets tacked up over the blinds to blot out the sun; I imagined to elevate some of the pain from his constant hangover. With only the light from a small lamp in the corner to guide me, I picked my way through the living room and into the kitchen.
Edgar was slumped over the dining table snoring, his limp hand still slightly curled around a bottle of beer on the table. I kicked at his chair, but he didn't move, if anything, his snoring got louder. Taking a page out of my Aunt Vera's book, I walked to the sink and filled a glass with water. Turning around, I stalked over to my uncle and threw the contents in his face.
He sat up sputtering and cursing. I pulled out a chair opposite him and spun it around, making sure the metal legs scraped against the linoleum as loudly as possible, before straddling it.
"Mija, what are you doing?" he asked when his puffy eyes finally focused on me.
"Don't you dare ‘mija' me."
His eyes narrowed at me briefly, before he attempted a confused face. "What's the matter?" His blood alcohol level must've still been through the roof because he wasn't even the slightest bit convincing.
I rolled my eyes and cut to th
e chase; I didn't have all day. "You want to tell me why you've aligned with the Salcedo cartel to undermined my business?"
"I don't know—"
I raised my hand to cut him off. "Don't try to lie. I know it was you, what I don't know is why."
His eyes sharpened, and I watched as his face grew redder by the second. "You stole my business!"
I reared back at the absurd statement. "Santi, Luis, and I built this shit from the ground up. You had nothing to do with it."
"I taught you everything you know, and you stole my legacy. You were never supposed to become the boss, that's a man's job. You stole my son's dignity when you took over."
"Luis never wanted the responsibility. We each have a fifty, fifty cut of the money, we’re partners."
"But you're La Patrona." The disgust and contempt painted across his face was enough to have me taking a step back. I’d seen my uncle angry before, but I’d never seen him flip the switch that fast.
"He doesn't want to be the boss!"
He spat on the floor at my feet. "Even so, he can never have the opportunity now. No one will take him seriously after he's let a puta push him around."
I felt as if I’d been slapped in the face. "Are you even listening to yourself? You raised me like a daughter, and now you're acting like I'm the fucking enemy."
His heavy fist came slamming down onto the table, causing a half empty beer bottle to fall over. "A daughter of mine would know her place! You're an embarrassment!"
"Is this about you or Luis? Because I'm not following."
"This is about you being a disgrace to this family."
"So that's why you went to Salcedo? Because I'm such a fucking blemish on your family tree?"
His answering laugh was more of a wheeze. "I didn't go to them. They came to me."
Fear. Ice cold fear chilled the blood in my veins. "My father came to you, why?"
He scoffed and waved a dismissive hand in my direction. "Ignacio wouldn't bother with something so trivial. He's got his own problems. No, my old friend Jesus came to me with a proposition that could make us both rich and put us back in the Salcedo's good favor."
Just as my nerves began to thaw, the front door banged open. "Pops? Vic?"
I turned my head in the direction of Luis' voice. It was a mistake. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Edgar reach under the table. My hand shot behind my back, and I pulled my gun at the same time he leveled his own at me.
"What the fuck?" I heard rather than saw Luis come into the room.
We were frozen, pointing our guns at each other's faces.
"Someone want to fill me in?" Luis growled. I couldn’t be sure who his anger was directed towards.
"Your father has been working with the Salcedo cartel to take over our territory."
Luis took a step further into the room so that he was in plain sight of both of us. "That's fucking insane. What bullshit has that gringo been filling your head with?"
"It's true. He just admitted it. Come on, Uncle Edgar, why don't you tell us how you did it."
I watched as his leathery face folded in on itself in a crude impression of a smile.
"Pops?"
His wheezing laugh made another appearance. "It was so easy. All I had to do was find the right people who were sick of getting pushed around by some pinche puta. Jesus gave me the drugs, and I passed them along and waited."
"Why would you do that?" This time it was Luis asking the question.
Edgar sneered at his son. "The better question is why didn't you?"
"Why didn't I what? Betray my family?"
He slammed his free hand against the table, causing the bottle that had fallen earlier to roll off the edge and crash to the floor. "Why didn't you take over when Santiago died? It was your rightful place!"
"Because she's smarter than I am, she always has been. I wouldn't have been able to do what she did. She built a fucking empire."
I was momentarily stunned. I hadn’t known that was his reasoning for letting me take the helm. He’d always told me it was because he didn’t want the headache of making all the decisions.
He got to his feet and aimed his gun at Luis. "You let her lead you around like a dog on a leash. Do you have no pride?"
Just as he was about to pull the trigger, the back door flew open, and chaos erupted.
Chapter Twenty
Antonio
I tried calling Victoria several times while we drove to Edgar's house, but each time, it went straight to voicemail. As Enzo turned the SUV onto Edgar's street at a crawl, I spotted Vic's Tahoe.
"She's here."
"Go around the back," Carlo ordered. He tapped the screen of his phone and zoomed in on an aerial image of the house Frankie had sent. "There's an alleyway along the back fence."
Enzo did as instructed and we all readied ourselves. The sounds of magazines being slipped into guns and rounds chambered filled the small space.
As we passed the house, I recognized the S-10 parked in front of Vic's Tahoe. I'd seen that truck a hundred times.
"Damn it! Luis is here too." My hand itched to reach for the door handle and jump out. I hadn't quite figured out Luis' role in everything or if he was oblivious as Vic had been. Either way, it meant that there were a different set of variables to consider. Even if Luis had been loyal to Vic and didn’t play a part in the conspiracy against her, his father did. There was no way to tell how he would react to that knowledge.
Carlo shifted in his seat to look at me. "We'll go in through the back door and hopefully catch them by surprise."
"Maybe I should go in alone." If we all came in guns blazing, there was no telling what could happen. I didn't want to risk Victoria getting hurt in the crossfire.
Angelo twisted around in the front passenger seat. "Like we'd let you have all the fun."
We parked behind the house and piled out of the car careful to keep our footsteps quiet as we moved along the side of the fence and towards the front. Finding the gate to the backyard is it open and enter the property in single file with me at the front.
I could hear raised voices through the back door as we approached. I turned my head to look at the men behind me, locking eyes with Carlo. He nodded his approval to go ahead, and I didn't waste time rearing back and kicking at the door with a heavily booted foot. The frame splintered, and the flimsy door burst open with a loud crack.
I rushed through the opening, with Carlo right behind me, into a kitchen. My eyes immediately fell on Victoria and the gun being wrench from her hand by Edgar. He had a gun pointed to her temple and his beady little eyes were peeking up from over her shoulder as a cowered behind her.
“Take another step gringo and I’ll blow her fucking brains out,” Edgar growled.
Victoria was eerily calm, her eyes blank as she stood stoically in front of him.
“Pops, what the hell are you doing?” Luis asked. His hands, free of weapons, were held up in a placating gesture.
“I'm taking back what you stupidly gave away, what was rightfully ours.”
Keeping the gun in his right hand firmly pressed against Vic’s temple, he raised the gun he'd taken from her with his left and pointed directly at me.
“And you,” he barked. “You had to come here and stick your nose where it didn't belong. If it weren’t for you, this would’ve been done a long time ago.
"He has nothing to do with this, Tio. This is family business. You have a problem with me remember, not him."
If there wasn't a gun pointed to her head I would've reached out and strangled her.
"It was, but then you had to go spread your legs for the enemy."
My eyes shot to Luis. He looked stricken. He was the only way his father would've known about the nature of my relationship with Victoria.
"Pops, you gotta stop. This isn't you. We're your family."
"You're no family of mine. You're a traitor!" He bellowed and lifted the gun from Vic's temple, pointing it directly at his son.
"Duck!" I sc
reamed and dove for Victoria just as Edgar opened fire.
Bullets rained down from all directions as I crashed into her, knocking us both to the floor. I rolled, covering as much of her with my body as I could. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime before the echoes of gunfire ceased.
"You okay?" I asked into her hair.
"Yeah, you?"
"Fine," I answered in disbelief. I'd run straight at the barrel a gun and escaped even a scratch.
I lifted my head to see Edgar's bullet ridden body slumped on the floor in a growing pool of blood.
"Luis!" Vic screamed as she tried to squirm out from under me.
I rolled off of her and she scrambled on her hands and knees to where Luis lay a few feet away. Grabbing onto his shoulders she shook him. “Luis? Wake up!” her voice quaked with emotion.
"Ow fuck!" He groaned, batting her hand away. I watched as her body visibly relaxed, his words instantly deflating her panic.
I got to my feet and turned to see Carlo and Enzo crouching over Angelo who was propped against the broken door. A steady stream of blood truckling from his shoulder.
Hurrying over, I dropped to my knees and examined the damage. A bullet had pierced the top of his right shoulder, a through and through shot from the look of it.
"I'm really fucking sick of getting shot," Angelo groaned as he tried to sit up straighter. I moved to help him up, but he shrugged me off. "I'm fine; it's just a flesh wound."
"Is everyone okay?" Victoria asked, guiding Luis over to where we were huddled. He was bloody and cradling one arm, but otherwise looked okay.
"Damn, you weren't kidding. She is hot," Angelo said, looking Victoria up and down with a sleazy grin.
I glared at my brother, plotting seven different ways to kill him. "I thought you said you were sick of getting shot? Watch your mouth."