I feel my insides flutter and tears burn at the back of her eyes. I tell myself that I’m being a fool. It was four years ago, and Juan isn't even my boyfriend. Right now, we’re both being held hostage in a gang’s headquarters and might not live to see the next day. How the hell I can find the energy to feel hurt and jealous, I really don't know, but the feelings are there all the same.
Destiny continues. "The only reason he did it was because he was going away the next day. I knew that, but I didn't care. It was my only chance. I guess I'm telling you just ‘cause I'm saying he's special, you know? I hope you treat him right. If you really are Juan's girl, you're lucky." Destiny gives me a small smile and turns to look out the window that faces a small lawn.
I clear my throat, not sure how to respond to the ill-conceived confession. "He's a good guy," I agree. "Do you think… Do you think he'll be okay? I mean, your dad won't hurt him, will he?"
Destiny stands up suddenly. "I don't know. I don't know nothing about Jefe's business. That's how he likes it. But you can't do nothing about it anyway, so you just don't worry about it. You let the men do what men do. Me and my girls, we have fun and party, and some of us got babies, so that keeps us busy. We don't worry too much about the rest."
I’m about to argue the point when suddenly a loud noise echoes from the far side of the house. Three sharp pops.
"Fuck!" Destiny cries out.
"What?" I ask, my heart racing. "What is it?"
"Gunshots. In the house. Get in the closet."
"Guns? Those were gunshots?" I ask, some part of my mind thinking I never would have expected gunshots to sound like that.
"Yes. Quit asking stupid questions and get in the closet," Destiny instructs brusquely as she shoves me toward the closet door.
My pulse speeds up. Gunshots. And Juan is out there somewhere—in another part of the house where guns are being fired.
I look at Destiny frantically. "Juan," I say, my voice wobbly and fearful.
"You have to stay here," Destiny warns
"Not a chance," I counter, steeling myself for a fight.
Voices can be heard now, shouting in Spanish, feet pounding through the house, and then more gunshots.
"You'll get killed," Destiny says looking exasperated.
"I love him."
Destiny studies me for a few seconds then sighs. "Ay, I'm going to regret this." She starts toward the door to the bedroom. "Come on then."
* * *
1 Gracias a Dios = Thank God
I stand staring at my father for a few moments, my peripheral vision taking in the bodies of Jefe, Lobo, and the other RH bleeding out on the floor.
"Señor Ybarra, we need to get you and Señor Juan off the property."
I notice that the guy is holding a finger against his ear and I realize that my father's men have earpieces like the fucking Secret Service.
"Señor," the guard says again. "Are you ready?"
My dad is watching me like he's waiting for me to make the decision. Then we hear men running through the house, Spanish being shouted, and more guns being fired.
Fuck. Beth.
I'm out the door before any of them can stop me. I head for the kitchen, stepping over a body on my way through the living room. I don't take the time to see if he's RH or Santos Mexicanos.
As I turn the corner into the kitchen, a shot slams into the wall next to my head. "Fuck!" I shout as I slide down the wall and crouch, looking out from under the legs of the kitchen table I'm behind.
If I had a gun, this would be different. I'm not afraid to blast my way out of any shit, but without one, I'm completely vulnerable, and I can't help Beth if I'm dead.
I hear more shots fire outside the house, so I scurry across the kitchen, heading to the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. My guess is that's where Abuela would have taken Beth.
I reach the doorway to the hall and flatten up against the wall, listening carefully before I charge into the poorly lit tunnel. When I'm relatively sure there isn't anyone at the far end waiting to blow me away, I turn the corner and edge down the narrow corridor. A door suddenly flies open next to me and I pull my fist back ready to coldcock whoever it is before they can shoot me. When I register the face in front of me, I'm able to redirect at the last second but not stop the momentum, so my fist slams into the doorframe right next to Beth's head.
"Fucking shit!" I grind out as Beth throws herself on me, wrapping her slender arms around my neck.
She knocks me back into the wall on the other side of the hall, and I put my arms around her waist, holding her as she sobs into the crook between my neck and shoulder.
"Shh, shh, linda," I whisper. "It's okay. I got you now. I got you." I look over her shoulder, and there stands Pretty Boy's girl, Destiny. My stomach does a little flip when I see her, when I remember the last time I was with her. How she comforted me before I went inside. How I let her be unfaithful to Pretty Boy in order to make myself feel better. I feel guilty and grateful all at once.
She gives me a little wave.
"Thank you for helping my girl out," I say softly.
"Anything for you," she answers. "It's good to see you in one piece."
"Thanks." I set Beth away from me a couple of inches so I can see her face. She's working to get the tears under control. "You going to be okay?"
She nods, sniffling. The noise of gunfire from outside has stopped, but I hear men stomping through the house.
I remember Jefe dead on the floor and realize that my father has just killed Destiny's. "You got a place to hide, Destiny?" I ask in a whisper.
She nods. "Dad made sure my room was set up."
"Good. Go, quick!"
She hesitates for a second.
"Please," I tell her.
She turns back into her room, quietly shutting the door behind her.
I grab Beth's hand and head farther back into the hall toward the master bedroom, where I know there's a door to the outside and a small, walled garden that might be safe until I can figure out some other way off the property.
I haven't taken more than three steps before I hear his voice. "Juan Miguel."
I freeze. Beth looks at me with eyes full of questions. Slowly, I turn around, keeping Beth's hand firmly in mine and pulling her as far behind me as possible in the narrow space.
He stands with his hand outstretched, and I hear Beth's sharp intake of breath as she sees him.
"The property's been secured," he says. "It's time to go." Then he seems to notice Beth. "Who is this?" he asks, a glint of interest in his eyes.
"She's with me," I say sternly. "Only me."
He tips his head slightly to the side as if trying to understand my meaning. "Of course, son. No one would ever dream of touching your woman. Is she coming with us?"
I look at Beth. If I leave her here, there's no telling who might get to her before she finds a way out. She'll be completely unprotected, alone with the remains of Jefe's men, who will be out for blood. The entire neighborhood is likely to erupt in gunfire as soon as word of Jefe's murder gets out, which won't take more than ten or twenty minutes tops.
I have to make a decision and I have to make one fast. Even though I'd rather die than take her into whatever disaster I'm headed for next, I can't bear the idea of leaving her alone here. Not under these circumstances.
"Linda," I say softly. "I can leave you here—"
"No." She shakes her head vehemently. "Please don't leave me again."
"Are you sure?" I say, pressing my lips against her forehead. "I don't know what's going to happen next."
She nods, wrapping her hands around my biceps.
"Okay." I look back at my father. "She comes with us," I tell him firmly.
"Let's go then." He turns and strides down the hallway.
When we reach the kitchen, four of his men are waiting. They surround us and we start moving en masse out of the house. Outside, we're hustled into a waiting Mercedes SUV. It's flying the Mexican national flag a
nd has diplomatic license plates. Apparently, I have the Mexican government to thank for my extraction.
As we pull away from Jefe's compound, another SUV in front of us and a big sedan behind us, Beth turns to look back through the tinted windows.
"No!" she screams suddenly.
I whip my head around to see what she's looking at. There stands one of my father's men with a gun to Destiny's head. I grab Beth and bring her face to my shoulder so she can't watch as Destiny's skull explodes in a spray of red and her body falls to the ground.
My father sits in the front seat motionless, as if none of it has even happened.
We travel through the streets of Austin, our path smooth and rapid. My dad and his men are like ice creatures. Even as common as violence was in the RH, the guys were never calm about it. A gun battle always left everyone jittery and usually meant we went underground for a day or so afterwards. But my dad's crew just drives on as if they really are embassy officials out for a look around town.
When we get outside the city limits heading south toward San Antonio, the SUV ahead of us turns off the highway onto a desolate exit. We follow, and a mile or two later, we've moved to a dirt road where we stop in front of an old, abandoned limestone structure that was probably a state highway department storage building at some point.
My nerves ratchet up as I look at how isolated our location is. No other cars in sight, no homes or businesses for miles. If I were going to dump a body, this is just where I'd do it.
Beth looks at me with her brow furrowed. Even though she hasn't lived the life, she has to be thinking the same thing I am. It's like a scene from a thriller movie, the ending is so obvious.
"Come with me, Juan," my father says as he exits the car, his men in the other two cars already striding around the area, checking its security.
I whisper to Beth, "It'll be okay. Just stay here. I'll be right back."
She nods, not looking even remotely convinced, and I give her a kiss on the cheek before I slide over and get out of the car.
Once we're outside, I walk to my father and stand next to him.
"I have waited twenty-two years for this moment," he says.
I look at him, waiting for more. If I've learned nothing else in the last seven years, at least I know that you're always better off letting the other guy talk more. Nothing will get you killed faster than the wrong words.
He takes his jacket off and hands it carelessly to one of his nearby men then starts to roll up his shirtsleeves as he talks.
"When your madre took you from me, I was loco for a few months, mi corazon. It was the greatest pain I have ever felt in my life. The woman I loved had betrayed me and taken the single most important thing in my life—my son. The day you were born, Juan, was the day that my purpose on this Earth became clear to me. I knew then it was my job to ensure you held the place you were destined for. You were born to be a king, son. Everything I've done was to create your kingdom, and now you're here so that I can teach you rule it."
My head is swimming, and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to respond to this guy who is obviously not operating on all four cylinders.
"I know you have been through a great deal, mijo, and I apologize for not being able to get to you sooner. What that piece of filth at the Reyes Hispanos put you through disgusts me. But all of that is behind you now, and you have learned from it. You've learned how to be a man, to survive. I couldn't be more proud of you."
"Um, thank you, sir." At least it doesn't appear that he's going to kill me. If I could be sure he wasn't going to kill Beth, I'd feel a lot better.
"Now," he says, motioning to his lackey. "Let's get this piece of trash off of you so the policía won't be following our every move."
His guy hands him the tool that unlocks electronic cuffs. He kneels carefully in front of me and looks at the big chunk of plastic. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head before he inserts the wand into the slot in the cuff. The cuff opens and my father hands it and the wand to his guy, who then takes them and walks to the abandoned storage building.
As he rolls his shirtsleeves back down and puts his jacket on, my father gestures to the dirt road. "Walk with me a moment, mijo?"
I nod, and we start down the road. I can hear the SUVs start up behind us and they're soon slowly following but at a distance that ensures no dust will blow on us.
"The girl," my dad says. "She has a family?"
"Yes," I answer. "A very close family."
"Here? In Texas?"
"In Floresville, where I grew up."
"Ahh. So you knew her when you were young?" He seems particularly interested by this.
"1Todo mi vida. Her older brother was my best friend. She was visiting me when Jefe's men came. I didn’t want them to take her too, but they did." I shrug, not wanting to make too big a deal of it. If he's anything like the RH, then indicating that I care very much about something or someone will only ensure they're used against me at some point. On the other hand, I want him to know that I'd be fine if he sent Beth home.
He nods, seeming thoughtful for a moment. "But she is with you now, and she is familiar. Something from home, yes?"
"Yes, she's from home." I feel a sliver of pain worm its way through my heart as I think of the home I haven’t seen for years.
"And I see the way you look at her," he continues. "I think it will be good for you to have her along. If you tire of her, we can deal with that when the time comes."
A chill rips through me.
"For now, you will tell me how to find her family so that, when we get home to Mexico, we can assure them she is safe. And if they cooperate and don't involve the officials, I will allow her to speak with them when she wants. This is agreeable to you?"
I nod. Under the circumstances, it's not a bad deal, and honestly, it's not like I can say no.
The cars pull up next to us When we stopped walking. My father puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it slightly. "This is the second greatest day of my life, Juan. After the day you were born, this day you've been reborn to me is the greatest. I can finally rest, knowing my legacy is safe and you are returned to your kingdom as you should be. We will go home now, yes?"
I swallow, the icy chill I feel being around him snaking down my spine, but I stiffen my posture, lift my chin, and look him in the eye. If I'm going to survive this, I need to pretend to be who he wants, just like I pretended to be what the RH wanted all those years. Yet another iteration of Juan. No longer Juan the straight-A student, nor Juan the felon, and not even Juan the gangbanger. This is Juan the prodigal son, heir to an organized crime empire. This is Juan the King Pin, and I will be him just like I've been all the others. I'll be anyone I need to be in order to survive.
* * *
1 Todo mi vida = all of my life
I wake and, for a moment, forget it all, focused entirely on the warm, solid body I’m resting on. I sigh and snuggle closer into his chest. I’m so happy Juan is finally home.
Then it all comes back in a rush. I sit up with a start, blinking and taking in my surroundings. I’m sitting on a plush, leather sofa, Juan's arm wrapped around me.
"Hey," he whispers. "It's okay. We’re landing in not too long."
I lean back a touch and look up into his eyes. He gives me a small smile. I swivel my head to look around the cabin of the obviously very expensive private plane. Juan and I are at the back, in a lounge area with a sofa, two armchairs, and a coffee table. The front portion is more traditional, with several rows of seats, only two to a row. It’s there that Juan's father and his men sit, some sleeping, some reading or playing games on their phones.
I shift, trying to get closer to Juan. He’s warm and the closest thing to comforting I can find. His other arm comes around my waist, and he buries his nose in my hair, setting off little pings of heat and light throughout my body.
"You smell like cinnamon," he tells me, inhaling deeply. Then he pauses before continuing the hushed conversation. "Linda? I'm so sorry.
No matter what, I'll get you home. Once we get there and I see the place, learn how everything's set up, I'll figure out how to get you out. You believe me?"
I turn my face up, pausing to brush my lips across his. "Of course I do. We're both going to get out of this. Together. We'll figure it out and we'll get home somehow."
I notice that he doesn't answer. He just strokes my shoulder as he holds me.
Two hours later, we’re buckled into yet another expensive SUV, rolling through the dark to what Miguel refers to as "your new home." I’m rapidly tiring of feeling helpless. I’ve never been helpless, never pretended to be, and the silent-mob-girlfriend act is wearing on me. Juan's father has yet to speak to me, and Juan and I can hardly say anything to one another with Miguel and his guards everywhere around us.
When we finally pull into the gates of the enormous estate that Miguel calls home, I think I might crawl out of my skin. I want to rage, yell, hit, scream. How can everyone be so calm? I’ve been kidnapped for Christ's sake. Forced into cars and planes against my will then taken out of the country. I was in a shootout, nearly saw a woman murdered. What now? Am I going to be locked up indefinitely? Will these armed guards be watching me dress, use the bathroom, sleep? And ultimately, what is the end game here? What does Juan's father think is going to happen with me after a few days or weeks? Is he just humoring Juan so he'll cooperate and then they'll kill me?
From what I can see of the grounds, they’re heavily landscaped, and I’m guessing we’re in southern Mexico. The vegetation is tropical and the air humid. The house rises up above a semicircular drive that fronts it. It’s lit up outside and in, the white stucco surface glowing. The high, red-tile roof is two and a half stories above the ground level, and the structure has a central section with two large wings jutting out from either side of the middle.
Buried (Hiding From Love #3) Page 10