by LP Lovell
Closing my eyes, I think of my Tor. Of the last time I saw her. God, that woman. My chest goes tight at the thought of her. She is undoubtedly my fucking weakness. I pull a deep drag from the cigarette into my lungs. The sound of Cayla crying for me, that pitiful sob that broke over the phone has been etched into my memory, and the longer I think about how scared she must be, about what they may be doing to her, my rage begins to bubble over. All I see is red and then suddenly, I'm plunged into this awful darkness because I can't do a fucking thing about it. I'm her father. Her protector and I can't do anything. I push up from the couch and pace, fighting the swarm of emotions threatening to fucking drown me. Anger and rage and grief cycle through me at lightning speed. I pace and smoke. Smoke and pace, trying to calm the anger tearing through me like a fucking F-5 tornado.
"Ese..." Gabriel’s voice comes from the doorway and I turn to face him. "Tomorrow morning we meet them in Chihuahua to trade Andrea for Cayla."
I comb my hand through my hair, my jaw ticking. "Tomorrow?"
"Si. It's the best Jesús would do." His eyes narrow. "I think he's going to try some sneaky shit, try to find Andrea so he doesn't have to hold up his end of the deal. We need to move Andrea from that house to another."
"We?"
He heads toward the door and I follow him. "I don't trust anyone but the two of us with Domingo's son."
***break***
I watch some of Gabe's men cram a drugged Andrea into the back seat of his Hummer, his hands bound behind him.
"By tomorrow, it will be over," Gabriel says, clapping his hand over my shoulder. “You will have your daughter back.” But I can see the doubt in his eyes. The line that settles in his forehead. Nothing is ever certain with people like this. There is no honor. No loyalty. Words mean nothing.
I nod and walk around to the passenger side, yanking open the door and sliding inside. Gabriel climbs behind the wheel and starts the engine. Classical music blares through the system.
"Jesus, what the..."
"I like to have that refined edge to me when conducting business," he says as he unlocks the console and pulls a gun, clutching it in his palm as steers with his free hand.
Sweat dots his forehead as he drives along the road. The fact that he's on edge makes me nervous. I hold my gun with my finger on the trigger as we weave our way through the hillside and down into the city. This place is filthy as shit. Rundown buildings, stray dogs everywhere.
"Ah, look at that cholita, ese," Gabe laughs as he nods out the passenger side window. There's a woman in a halter top and a blue jean skirt on her knees, sucking some man off on the street as people walk by.
We head down a hill toward on overpass. The sun is high in the sky and I can just make out three shadows underneath the bridge. The closer we get I notice those shadows are bodies swaying in the breeze. "What the..." I mumble and duck down to get a better look as we drive underneath. A drop of blood splatters the windshield. "Fuck, in broad daylight?" I ask.
Gabriel shrugs. "It's cartel land, ese. The murder capital of the world."
Andrea moves around in the backseat, mumbling around the gag. "Sleeping beauty woke up," Gabe chuckles. "Don’t worry, Andrea, I'll come back and kill you in your sleep once this is all over," he whispers. Andrea mumbles louder and Gabriel reaches over, turning up the radio.
The music blares over the speaker and then. Bang! Glass shatters, tiny cubes landing in my lap. I glance in the backseat and Andrea's laid out on the seat, blood pouring from a bullet hole in his skull.
"Fuck!" I shout at the same time as Gabriel pulls over to the side of the road, brakes screeching.
"What the fuck?" He pounds his fists over the steering wheel. "You've gotta be kidding me." He reaches into the backseat and shakes Andrea’s lifeless body. "Fucking shit, ese!"
I watch the blood trickle over the edge of the seat and puddle in the floorboard. What the hell just happened. Reactions set in and I raise the gun, turning and aiming out the window as I search for someone. People are walking the street like nothing just happened. "Who the fuck shot at us?"
Gabriel stares out the window, his hand on his gun. "I don't know. This is bad. This is bad, ese. Very, very fucking bad." He glances back at Andrea. "Ah, that's Domingo Garcia's dead son in my fucking backseat, and I didn't even have the pleasure of killing him." He looks at me as he puts the car in drive. "We don't speak of this."
"What?"
Shaking his head, he pulls back onto the road, flooring the accelerator. "No, we have to keep this between us as long as we can—until we can figure out some other plan, because the second Domingo finds out Andrea's dead..." he trails off, but I know where that sentence was going. The minute they find out he's dead, Cayla is dead. My heart sinks to my stomach like a stone and fear churns its way through me.
"How the fuck are we supposed to hide this shit?" I ask, resting my head against the window.
“Get rid of the evidence.” He shrugs, swerving off onto a deserted dirt road.
23
Tor
We sit in bumper to bumper traffic at the border, inching our way to the little toll with a sign that reads: Mexico. There is a brown metal fence on one side, dark hills rising behind it in the distance. The Mexican agents stand at the checkpoints, dressed in green and wearing black masks. I swallow, reminded of the men who took Cayla.
“Why do they have on masks?” I ask Marney, my nerves bunching in my gut.
He peers out the window. “They don’t want the cartels to know who they are. It’s for their own protection.” A bolt of fear fires through me. The cartel is feared by everyone and they have my baby… We pull up to a checkpoint, the brakes squeaking as we come to a full stop. I roll my window down as the masked man approaches my window. My heart goes haywire and I attempt to calm it, but I can’t.
“I need to see your vehicle registration and a credit card with the same name, señora,” the man says. I swallow because I don’t have either.
“I…uh, I don’t have—”
“What’s your name?”
“Victoria…” I fumble, trying to recall one of, any of my alias’ Jude has given me. “Perry.” He turns his head toward a walkie-talkie on his shoulder and calls in my name as he eyes Marney.
“Can you pull over please? Pop the trunk.”
I do as asked, anxiety rolling through me. When I pop the trunk, he walks around to the back and I hear him rummaging around. He comes back to the window, his dark eyes the only thing visible underneath the mask. “Do you have any weapons you’re trying to bring into Mexico?” he asks.
“No.” I swallow. I can feel the gun beneath my seat literally burning a hole in my arse. His walkie-talkie crackles and someone says something in Spanish. His eyes lift to mine as he talks back into the speaker. “I’m going to need you to get out.” He glances at Marney. “Both of you.” I glance at Marney and open the door, cautiously climbing out. "Follow me," he says as he grabs my arm.
Another agent comes over and takes hold of Marney. I want to ask why they are detaining us, but I don’t. Sometimes it’s best to not ask questions. They lead us to a building and when I step inside, the chilled air conditioning makes my skin flush with goose bumps. Maybe I should be worried, but I'm not. If Jesús Lopez knows I'm here then surely he'll want me, which means he'll come and get me and take me to Cayla.
We’re taken down a long corridor before the man stops in front of a metal door. He opens it and steps back, waving us in. Inside, the temperature drops by several degrees. People are sitting on benches, huddled together and glancing nervously towards us. Marney bumps into my back as the door shuts with heavy finality. I whip around and hear a bolt slide home. "What the hell?" I ask
He shrugs. "The cartel's got ears everywhere."
Okay, this is fine. This is what I wanted, isn't it? I swallow down the nerves gnawing away at me. Cayla. I need to get to Cayla. And this is the only way. There’s an empty spot on one of the benches and I approach it. The woman sitting ne
xt to it scoots over a little more when I go to take a seat.
"It's cold as balls,” Marney says, sitting next to me.
I nod, glancing at the faces around us. Women and children, families that I guess are trying to make a better life for themselves. A little girl with long, dark hair sits huddled against the chest of a woman across from me. The woman wraps as much of her clothing as possible around the child, rubbing her hands over her arms. It seems so wrong for someone so young and innocent to be locked up in here. And then I think of Cayla locked up somewhere like this, cold and completely alone. At least that child has her mother. A hollow pain radiates through my chest, reminding me that something vital is missing, that a part of me is gone.
I swipe at my tears and turn towards Marney. He flashes a sympathetic smile and places his arm around me, pulling me to his pudgy side. "It'll be alright, little darlin'."
I shake my head, resting my cheek against his shoulder. "How can it be, Marney? Nothing will ever be right again." I know it, he knows it, and Jude knows it. We've been clinging to this hope, but like Gabriel said, there is no hope in this world we are now unwillingly immersed in. All we have is action. All we have is sacrifice, and there is no fairytale in which we all walk out of this. That is the cold reality.
"You forget your dealing with Jude Pearson," he chuckles before falling into a hacking cough.
"He's not god, Marney."
"Nah, that boy’s the devil."
24
Jude
Andrea's body falls to the ground with a thud and a cloud of dust flies up into the air. A goat runs past and Gabe kicks at it. "Get out of the way, you bastardo."
I glance at my watch. It's already one 'o clock. Time's running out. We were supposed to have Andrea there by eight tomorrow morning. And we have no Andrea. Panic grips me, my mind goes into gridlock because what the hell can I do now? Gabriel bends over, stripping Andrea’s clothes off his body.
“I can use these,” he says.
I shake my head and pace in front of a wooden fence as I try to come up with some type of solution to this shit show we’ve fallen into. When I spin around, Gabriel’s standing over Andrea's body, a golden stream of piss raining down on his bloodied face. "Yeah, ese, how does my piss taste?"
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"Taking a piss. I always wanted to piss on his face." Gabe laughs.
Anger seers through me. "We have less than twenty-four hours to figure out what the hell we are going to do about this shit and you're pissing on him?"
Gabriel shoves his dick back in his slacks and zips his fly with a shrug. "We're fucked, ese. What else am I gonna do?"
"Fucked—we're dead Gabe. Cayla, me, you, Tor. We're all fucking dead." I point at Andrea's body. "This is about as bad as it gets."
Gabriel taps his finger over his chin and nods his head. "We just need to buy some time."
I pull my phone out. "I'm calling the fucking Russian."
"Yeah, I guess call the white devil." He groans as he leans over and grabs Andrea’s arms, dragging him across the lawn.
I walk away from Gabriel because he's not going to like this shit, but fuck him, I didn't ask him to intercept my ass at the airport. The phone barely rings once before someone picks up.
"Zdravstvuj."
"Cole," I say as I light a cigarette.
"Ah, American..."
"We got a fucking deal."
"We do?"
"Yep," I take a deep breath from the cigarette and hold the smoke in my lungs. "Gabe's in. All the fucking blow you want. I'll clean your money, but we got a problem."
"There is always a problem where the Mexican's are concerned," he laughs.
"Domingo Garcia—"
"The man you ratted on? Yes, I know who he is."
My pulse skyrockets. The Russian knows I sold Domingo out. Fucking hell.
"Ventanas are everywhere. I know everything and I wonder, how much do the Sinaloa know?" He sighs. "You should have stayed dead. They are very angry with you, American."
"Are you gonna fucking help me."
"What do you take me for?"
I groan. I'm not trying to stroke his cock right now. “You could get blow anywhere. Gabe may think you want his cocaine, but I see it for what it is, a declaration. You want a fucking horse in this race and that’s why you want a deal with him.” My pulse clangs in my ear. “Well, if I don’t get my daughter back from Jesús, your horse is getting a fucking bullet. So are you gonna help me?”
There's a pause and I hear him blow out a long breath. "I always did like Juárez City. I am, after all, rather found of the snow.” What the hell is he talking about? “You didn’t laugh?” he says.
“No, it wasn’t fucking funny.”
“Ah, American, there’s so much blow there it could make the desert look like Santa’s grotto.” He sighs. “My jokes are lost on you.” He shouts something in Russian. "I have my friends on their way to your little Mexican's casa. Figure out a way to buy your daughter some time." And he hangs up.
I shove my phone inside my pocket and turn around just in time to see Gabe dragging Andrea's naked body into a pen. I watch as he shoves him inside a dry trough and dusts his hands clean.
"Now..." He walks to the side of the yard and lifts a gate.
Hundreds of swine come stampeding through, grunting as they head straight to the trough. Gabriel hops over the fence and comes to stand beside me. And here we stand at the edge of the trough, almost in a trance as we watch the pigs tear into Andrea's flesh. A sick feeling of dread worms its way through me.
"Well, they won't find him," he says. "What did the fucking Russian say?"
"That they are on their way to your casa."
Gabriel cocks a brow. "I'm not letting the Russian into my house."
"Well," I clap my hand over his shoulder, "you're working with the Russian now," I say and Gabriel turns to glare at me.
"I'm not working with the fucking Russian."
"Yeah, you are.” I lift both brows. “I made a deal with him so," I exhale, "you need to start shipping your coke up to fucking Narnia."
Gabriel's jaw drops and his eye twitches as he paces, clenching his fists. The noise of the swine slurping fading into the background. "Dios, dame la fuerza para no matar a este maldito gringo. Jodido culo mudo. Debería derramar su sangre en la calle y—"
"Gabe!" I shout and he stops pacing. "You're not spilling my fucking blood anywhere...you hate the Sinaloa. Use the Russian as an ally and fucking end them."
Gabriel glares at me, his tanned cheeks red with anger. "You had no right—"
I storm toward him and jab him in the chest with my finger. "I had every fucking right. As far as I know, you're half the reason I'm knee deep in shit right now. The reason my family was almost slaughtered," I say with a growl.
"Your fight with Domingo is of your own making," he says through clenched teeth.
"It was all fine until you killed Jesús’ guy in my yard and then all fucking hell breaks loose. It's working with you that has them after me!"
He has a look in his eye that reminds me exactly who he is. He may be my friend, but he's ruthless. Cold and calculated. He lets out an aggravated sigh and drops his chin to his chest. "The fucking Russian!" Gabriel swipes his hand down his face and shakes his head. "I swear to god, if I didn't like you, I'd kill you."
"Yeah, yeah. Feeling's mutual, trust me."
Gabriel groans. "So did the fucking Russian say what we do about this shit?" He points at Andrea's body.
"Buy time."
"Buy..." Gabriel throws his head back and grabs both sides of his head. "Ai, ai, ai. Why don't we just fucking kill the men we're supposed to meet?"
I stare at him, a small smirk slowly working its way across my face because that's exactly what we'll fucking do. "Why don't we?"
"Have you lost your mind? You fucking loco gringo. We kill them, Jesús kills everyone before you ever leave Ciudad Juárez."
"So don't let him know it
was us."
"What the hell are you on? Did you find some peyote and eat it?" He shoves his hands in his pockets and paces, mumbling in Spanish.
"There are ways to kill them without ever touching them," I say, and Gabriel stops pacing, looking at me with a flicker of curiosity. "Poison."
"Poison?" He rolls his eyes. "It's a fucking pussy way. The woman's weapon."
"Gabe!" I shout.
"You're trying to make me soft, ese."
I swipe my hand down my face. "They have my daughter, Gabriel. They have Cayla!"
Closing his eyes, he sighs. "Fine. And how do you suggest we poison them?"
"Just give me a minute to think this through."
"Time's something we're a little short on.”
"I know." I fucking know... We start toward Gabriel's car and my phone rings with a call from Marney.
"Yeah?" I answer as I make my way around the back of the Hummer.
"So, uh..." Marney huffs a slow breath. "We're at the border. Detained.”
"What the fuck, Marney? I told you to fucking watch her."
"Yeah, yeah and she's just as stubborn as your ass. You gonna leave us here to rot or what, because she said she ain't leaving?"
"Fucking hell. Just..." I groan, wiping my hand over my face. "Just wait there." I hang up.
I climb inside the SUV and chuck the phone on the floor. "How far is the border?" I ask.
"Fifteen miles, why?" Gabriel laughs. “Let me guess, your woman showed up?”
"Of course she fucking did because, you know,” I toss my hands in the air, “she’s gonna take on the cartel.” I sigh. “I’ve gotta go get her.”
We pull out of the farm and turn onto the highway. "As much as I'd love to see Tor angry at you," Gabriel laughs, "I try to stay away from the border as much as possible, so I'm going to drop myself at my house and let you have the car to go get her."
I throw my head against the headrest, watching the shitty little houses whizz past, wracking my brain on how the fuck to poison a handful of cartel members.