Violent Delights (White Monarch Book 1)

by Jessica Hawkins

  The stoplight changed to green, but he just scratched his chin. “Which won’t matter if Costa kills me for taking you to the warehouse.”

  “He thinks I’m still at the movie theater for a Star Wars triple-feature.” I checked the clock on the dash—half past nine. “Right about now, Pilar and I are finishing Attack of the Clones. The next episode is almost two-and-a-half hours.”

  “Dios mío. You know the runtime and everything?” He reached over to squeeze my knee in the exact spot I was ticklish. I laughed as I squirmed. “Are you this devious in the States?” he asked.

  I leaned over the console, batting my lashes up at him. “You’ll soon find out.”

  Someone honked behind us for sitting at a green light before swerving past. Diego barely noticed.

  “Mmm.” He nuzzled my nose with his, then kissed me softly, sweetly. “You make a good argument, my little C-3PO, but I don’t want to risk it.” He brushed my hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. “Even if nothing happens, I don’t want anyone to see you there. If it gets back to Costa, or if the wrong person sees you unguarded—”

  “I just faced off with Cristiano by myself,” I pointed out. “I’ll be fine. I’ll wait in the car. Just go. It’ll take five minutes.”

  “Not even. I’ll have Jojo come out and get the keys.” Diego sighed, resigned. “You’re tough.”

  “This is good practice for when we’re married and I win all our arguments.”

  He scoffed, seizing my leg again. I squealed, grabbing his wrist as I backed against the door. “Tickling is off-limits.”

  “I don’t think so, princesa,” he said but smiled and released me. He checked his rearview mirror and swerved into the next lane. Ignoring the red arrow, he flipped the car around to zoom back the way we’d come. The men loitering outside the tienda were gone, but as we whizzed by, I could’ve sworn I heard the echo of mariachi music.

  In under ten minutes, we were at the edge of town and approaching a sprawling concrete block. Surrounded by desert, it seemed to have risen from the ground.

  “I’m going to park in back so nobody sees you,” Diego said, slowing to turn down a dark road. “Do you see a black fob in the center console?”

  I opened it and sorted through several sets of keys until I found the one he needed. He rolled down his window and stuck it out as we pulled up to an industrial looking metal gate. As it slid open, Diego killed the headlights and parked in an unlit backlot. He quickly sent off a text, then reclined the driver’s seat a little and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  It was the second time I’d noticed him do it since we’d gotten in the car. “Do you have a headache?”

  “Yeah. I’m just tired and feeling queasy.” He squinted through the windshield. “I’ve barely slept in days. Every time I close my eyes, I think of what’ll happen if tomorrow doesn’t go well.”

  “Come here.” I unfastened my seatbelt to give him the best sideways hug I could and kissed his cheek. “You’re almost there. By this time tomorrow, the shipment will be on its way and you’ll be that much closer to pulling off the most impressive deal the Cruz cartel has ever seen.”

  He turned his head to graze the tips of our noses. “And then?” he asked.

  “And then it’s you and me with nothing ahead of us but our future.”

  He tilted his head and kissed me gently. “I love the sound of that. I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I said. Enough to die for you, a voice in my head said. The fortune teller. Why did she still haunt me when I knew her words held no truth?

  A knock at the driver’s side made me jump back with a gasp. I clutched my throat, my heart pounding.

  “It’s just Jojo,” Diego said, patting my thigh. I could barely make out a figure until Diego rolled the window down.

  Jojo, one of Diego’s foremen, nodded at me. “¿Qué tal, Talia?”

  Even though my heart pounded from the scare, I nodded. “Todo bien. All good.”

  “How’s it going in there?” Diego asked, passing Jojo the keys.

  Jojo wiped his hairline, leaving a grease mark on his forehead. “One of the semi engines is fucked. We’re working on it.”

  “Where’s the mechanic?” Diego asked.

  “Not picking up his phone, but don’t worry, jefe. We’ll get him here.”

  “You checked the fuel and oil levels? The battery?” Diego asked, his brows cinched.

  “Yeah, I didn’t, but Tomás knows all that shit and I think he—”

  “Did he disengage the lock?”

  Jojo showed us his grimy palms. “I dunno.”

  “Tell him to try that,” Diego said. “If it doesn’t work, check the ECM ground wire.”

  “What the fuck is that?” Jojo asked, wetting his finger to rub grease off his wrist.

  “Come on, cabrón. Like I don’t have enough on my plate?” Diego blew out a sigh. “I’ll text Tomás.”

  Seeing the veins pop in Diego’s hands and neck as he gripped the steering wheel, I caressed his right forearm. “Go look at it,” I said. “I’ll be fine here for a few minutes.”

  “Maybe if I didn’t hire such dumb motherfuckers,” Diego muttered.

  Diego didn’t mean it—he cared a great deal for his men—and Jojo knew it. Jojo smiled with a shrug. “Sorry I couldn’t afford to go to college for engines.”

  Diego rolled his eyes. “Wait there,” he said and raised the window before turning to me. “Are you sure? It’s dark out here, and you can’t turn on the lights or someone might see you. I know that scares you.”

  Nothing happened in the dark. That was part of why it frightened me—not knowing whose footsteps were coming or going, or who might be at my back, or whether the right or wrong person had found me until it was too late to do anything about it. When Barto had come rushing down the tunnel ladder for me, I hadn’t known who he was until he’d held the flashlight under his chin. The shadows had created a ghoulish, haunting mask that hadn’t looked at all like the Barto I’d grown up around. I’d gone with him willingly, relieved to have been found, but part of me had questioned him—and everything—until we’d emerged from the tunnel into the closet. Doors had been broken down, my mother’s body had been covered, and Papá had crushed me to him for a breathless hug.

  I wished there were at least lamps in the lot, but if I said that, Diego would stay when he was clearly needed inside. “I’m not nine anymore,” I told him. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll just go talk to Tomás and come right back.” He leaned over to peck me once more. “Okay?”

  “Go.”

  The dome light came on as he switched off the engine and handed me the keys. “If you see anything—anything at all—get the fuck out of here.”

  “Without you?” I asked.

  “Yes.” He shut off the light and the car went pitch dark. Not even a sliver of moonlight touched the area. He passed me the keys with the fob. “These are for the gate and the warehouse. Nothing will happen, but I don’t care if a jackrabbit hops by and looks at you funny. Just go.”

  I nodded, gripping the keys. “Got it.”

  “Lock the door after me and keep the lights off.” When he ducked out, I hit a button on the roof to plunge the car back into darkness. I barely made out his shadow as he met Jojo at the back door and disappeared inside the warehouse.

  With desert all around me, it might’ve felt as if I was in the middle of nowhere, but I had to remember there were many people here. Specifically, men with guns who’d been hired by my father. They wouldn’t let anything bad happen. They were on our side.

  Then again, Cristiano had been too when he’d left me in the dark.

  Even though it was hard to see, nothing would ever be as pitch-black as the underground tunnel. At least now, I wasn’t covered in blood and on the precipice of a future that’d been dimmed significantly. I’d hugged my knees to my chest and tried to stop picturing all the vibrant colors of my mom’s dress darkened with blood. What if I’d been t
en minutes earlier? Or had heard the shot? Would it have changed anything?

  The only thing I’d actually seen in that tunnel had been Barto’s shadowed face. All I’d heard was his voice, oddly as cajoling as Cristiano’s hours earlier, my own sobs, and the pests scampering around me.

  As my chest tightened with panic, I coaxed myself to breathe through it. But no matter how many times I told myself I was too old to be afraid of the dark, fears as deeply rooted as mine knew no age.

  With a piercing screech of metal scraping metal, I spun in my seat to look out the back window but saw nothing. My heartbeat echoed in my ears. I turned forward again. The time on the dash changed. In an alternate universe, Pilar and I were starting Revenge of the Sith. I closed my eyes and hummed the opening bars to Star Wars.

  Like a clap of thunder, rumbling motorcycle engines jarred me back to reality. As two bikes pulled up to the driver’s side, I ducked into a ball on the floorboard. It went silent again. A large shadow passed Diego’s window. My heart pounded as the other biker approached. Keys jingled from somewhere. A silhouette peered into the car. On what looked like a beanie or hat, I made out the small but distinct glowing outline of a white sugar skull. A calavera.

  They were Cristiano’s men.

  At Diego’s warehouse.

  Which held every last gram of the Maldonado product.

  Diego had been right—Cristiano did have something to do with the robberies. And it looked like he was back for more.

  Diego had told me to go if I saw anything suspicious, but he had to know I’d never leave him stranded. I had an opportunity to warn him, and I needed to take it.

  13

  Natalia

  The Maldonados wouldn’t hesitate to kill Diego if he lost any more of their shipment. That was why this deal had been haunting Diego’s nights since the first theft. I had no idea how the Calaveras had found the top-secret warehouse, but I knew why they were here—for the drugs.

  As soon as the skull-adorned bikers stepped away from Diego’s car, I opened the glovebox to get my cell. I sent Diego a hurried text that some Calaveras were out back. The keys to the Mercedes dug into my palm, but I wouldn’t leave him here.

  I stared at my screen, praying for a response. I couldn’t take the chance that these men would ambush Diego and turn the situation with the Maldonados critical. Or worse—hurt him. When a minute had passed without a response, I stuck my phone in the neckline of my dress and sat up. I didn’t see the men anywhere, but I couldn’t see much to begin with.

  I could help. I had to. I knew what it was to feel helpless during and after a tragedy, and it was a form of torture, especially paired with grief. Tonight, I could move soundlessly and use the element of surprise to my advantage to hopefully reach Diego before they did.

  I fumbled for the fob to make sure I had the right set of keys, then quietly opened the car door. I ducked behind the side panel, listening as my eyes adjusted. The area seemed clear, so I tiptoed toward the back door, where I deftly tried each key until the lock finally gave.

  The door opened to a wide, dark hallway with a light at the end of it. I tugged down the hem of my dress and felt my way along one wall, stepping carefully over boxes. I almost rolled my heel on some screws but managed to steady myself against a crate. As I got closer, men’s voices and the clink of what sounded like metal tools carried through the doorway. I listened for yelling, threats, or arguing but heard nothing of the sort.

  When I’d reached the end of the hall, I inhaled a deep breath and peeked in. It was a garage with two eighteen-wheeler trucks parked side by side. The one closest to me had its hood popped. Diego worked underneath it, standing on a stepladder with a tool belt around his waist and his sleeves rolled.

  I scanned the room for the men I’d seen. I recognized my father’s soldiers as they unloaded cartons from an armed vehicle, but others didn’t look familiar at all. Hadn’t Diego said only their most trusted men were here?

  When I returned my eyes to the semi, Diego had his phone out. After reading the screen, he looked toward the doorway, and his eyes widened when he saw me. Wiping his hands on a rag, he nodded for me to get back in the hall. I hid as he said something about the engine to the other men. Moments later, he came around the corner and nearly knocked me over.

  He grasped my shoulders. “You okay?” he whispered.

  “I saw men in Calavera clothing outside,” I rushed out. “I think they were sneaking in the back door.”

  “Yeah, I know. They’re with us.”

  I blinked twice as my mouth fell open. “What?”

  “This is Cristiano’s warehouse.” Diego took his suit jacket from over his elbow, put it around my shoulders, and moved me farther from the doorway. “We decided to store everything here after our locations were compromised.”

  I leaned in and spoke softly. “But what if Cristiano is behind the attacks?”

  “It wasn’t my decision, believe me, but we’re in a crunch.” Diego frowned. “I had no other option. I just hope Cristiano has enough of a reason not to sabotage us.”

  I eased back. “You mean because he might be planning to take it all over.”

  “Right.” Diego glanced over his shoulder. “Jojo says everything’s been quiet. They’re even getting along with Cristiano’s guys. But you still shouldn’t be in here.”

  “I don’t want to go back to the car,” I said. “The dark . . . it just takes me back to being down there.”

  “I get it.” He pulled the jacket closed and kissed my forehead. “I actually feel safer with you inside. The engine isn’t fixed yet, but I see the problem. Tomás can probably take it from here.”

  “I have two hours before I have to be home. I’d feel better if you guys just fixed the problem,” I said. “Because if you can’t get the truck to start . . . then what?”

  “Then I can’t make half the delivery tomorrow,” he said. “And all our plans go to shit.”

  “Then you should handle it. I’ll just stay hidden.”

  “Not here. People are coming and going.” He glanced toward the ceiling. “We take breaks on the roof. You could go up there, because I assure you, no one’s taking a fucking break tonight. There are lights too. You still have those keys?”

  I held up the set. He picked through them until he found the one he was looking for, then walked by me to open the door to the expansive warehouse. He flipped some switches and fluorescent lights flickered on as I entered.

  My heels echoed through the building that stored stacks of massive wooden crates and heavy-duty machinery. Attached to one wall was an office with storage lockers. “What is all this?” I asked.

  “Calavera contraband. Artillery. Semi-automatics, grenades, drones, IEDs—that kind of thing.”

  I turned in a circle. No wonder this place was so dangerous. “Where’s it all going?”

  “Most of it is coming. Smuggled from up north so criminals like us can organize and protect our product. From each other and from law enforcement.” He pointed across the warehouse to a staircase. “Just take that up to the access door on the roof. Up there, you’ll see lounge chairs and stuff.”

  “What if someone comes up?”

  “Nobody else has keys to this side of the warehouse except me and Cristiano’s right-hand man, who’s not here tonight. But the door locks automatically behind you, so just in case, take the keys.” He kissed me quickly. “I’ll be up shortly.”

  I held Diego’s jacket closed as I crossed the room, climbed the stairs to the second level, and continued up a short access hall. At the end stood a single door with a long glass window big enough for me to glimpse the sky.

  I stepped out onto the roof. Outdoor LED lights guided me through rows of solar panels and across a helipad.

  I found an area of loungers and camping chairs where the men must’ve taken their breaks. I found a sarape blanket and sat under it near a portable grill. Clusters of stars were the only light in the black, horizonless desert. Behind me, the town twink
led. In that direction, light and life thrived in the dark while the desert had killed the most resilient of men. Why had I chosen to face the direction that was nothing but desert? Why confront Cristiano when being on his radar could only lead to trouble?

  Darkness called to me.

  That didn’t mean I had to answer.

  It’d been too easy to enmesh myself in Cristiano’s game. Too natural to succumb to the shadows that swarmed my nightmares. Cristiano had said this life lived in me like a heart. Maybe that was true, but hearts could be replaced. A brain couldn’t. I wasn’t going to walk toward darkness like my mother had.

  I leaned my head back. As adrenaline from my emotional and mental warfare with Cristiano wore off, I drifted in and out of consciousness until my phone dinged with a text from Diego that he was on his way up.

  I went to meet him at the door. He slipped his arms inside my jacket and scooped me up by my waist, walking us backward. “Nice up here, isn’t it? You wouldn’t expect it to be.”

  “I can count every star.”

  “Funny, I’m seeing stars too . . .” He captured my mouth for a kiss. “Put your legs around me.”

  He lifted me by my ass, and I locked my ankles at his lower back. “Did you fix the engine?” I asked.

  “It’s all good.” He pecked me. “Everything’s on schedule to leave late-morning.” His lips brushed the underside of my jaw. “Border patrol is expecting us. Law enforcement is standing by to escort us.” He moved his mouth down my neck, warming me with his breath. “We’re closer and closer to freedom.”

  That explained his sudden good mood. I raised my eyes to the sky as he sucked and nibbled the tender skin along my throat. “We’re so close,” I said, nearly moaning.

  “We are.”

  “And we’ve been so good.”

  I felt his smile against my skin. “We have.”

  “Almost saintly.”

  He laughed hotly into the curve of my neck. “I didn’t know saints kissed this way.”