by Mia Flores
“I’m just so happy to see you,” Junior said as he hugged him.
“I can’t believe they let me go, Junior. I thought they were going to kill me.”
“You’re safe now,” his brother reassured him, but it wasn’t enough. Peter was dying to know something else.
“Where’s Mia?” he asked.
“She’s at home, waiting for you,” Junior answered. “And that’s where we’re going right now.”
Mia
The sun had just come up when Peter and Junior walked into the house.
I saw Peter from the top of the stairs, but I had to look twice to realize it was him. He looked like a ten-year-old boy. After I ran down and pulled him close to me, I felt him start to heave. He was frail, his eyes were sunken, and he was so cold it was almost like he’d died. We stood together like that for probably ten minutes, and I knew he was never going to be the same again.
I led him back up the stairs, and we walked into the bathroom. I tried turning on the light, but he stopped me. “Don’t, please. It hurts my eyes,” he said. When we took off our clothes and got in the shower together, a smell like sweat, garbage, and death overcame me. Then I began to wash him gently so I wouldn’t hurt his wounds.
“You’re home,” I said. “And I’m going to make sure you never leave again.”
When we finally got out of the shower, Peter started talking.
“The whole time I was gone, I prayed. I asked God to protect my brother for the rest of his life, and I prayed for Olivia, that she would stay strong and love Junior forever. I thanked God for causing her to be so good to him, and I apologized for always giving her a hard time. I prayed that my daughter would live a long, healthy, and happy life and find someone great to love her, as much as I do. And I asked God for your forgiveness.”
“For what?”
“For leaving you like I did.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“And I promised God that if he brought me home, I’d marry you and be a devoted husband and father. Mia, you saved my life again.”
We didn’t exactly get engaged then, but it was coming. Something fundamental had changed in Peter—something that was rooting him to me and to life in Mexico—and I felt deep in my bones that life was about to get a lot more complex.
I was ready for it. Sure, I was terrified that the man I loved had stared death in the face, but I was prepared for life with a man who I loved without question, despite the job he did every day.
But was I ready to risk my life for that world? Were any of us?
It was a dilemma we’d be forced to figure out sooner rather than later.
PART THREE
IN TOO DEEP
CHAPTER 11
Sinaloa
Olivia
Chapo had been expanding the Sinaloa Cartel’s reach into the United States for years. But to keep his machine going, he needed trustworthy associates who knew the US drug trade inside and out. After Junior’s meeting with him, Chapo realized, without question, that those men were the Flores brothers.
Mia
Chapo liked Peter and Junior’s neat, tidy ledgers, especially the way the numbers added up and kept getting bigger and bigger. He marveled at the fact that Junior and Peter complemented each other—while Junior was a natural at building business relationships, Peter excelled at handling logistics—and he was thrilled that the twins had repaid him more quickly than he’d expected.
Olivia
El Chapo knew he’d caught two big fish, and to reel them in, he summoned Junior and Peter to a meeting in the mountains not long after Peter came home in May 2005.
Mia
Peter was so skinny before he and Junior went to Sinaloa to meet with Chapo and Mayo. He wasn’t himself at all, still squinting when the light was too bright and waking up at all hours because of nightmares. I’d hear him cry in his sleep, and all I could do was hold him and tell him, “It’s going to be okay. You’re home, and you’re with me.”
I was scared for him, but I didn’t try to change him. What he did for a living was hard to swallow, but quite frankly, I was so in love I didn’t care. I knew being with him meant accepting every part of him.
Besides, I could have told him he’d just won the lottery and could move to Europe and be anyone he wanted to be, and it wasn’t going to alter the course he was on. He was about to meet with the biggest drug lord in the world, and that was going to change everything.
Olivia
I don’t think Mia realized that fully at the time, but I knew it. Once you were working with Chapo, you weren’t going to say, “I changed my mind,” because he owned you. You had to do whatever you could for the Sinaloa Cartel because, otherwise, you’d be shit out of luck. Chapo’s people would break down your door and kill your whole family.
That’s why when Junior and Peter went to Culiacán for their meeting with Chapo, I was truly scared for them. I didn’t want to leave Junior’s side, but he insisted I wait at home.
“It’s my job to protect you,” he said. “So, please, stay here and just be my girl.”
After three long days, he and Peter returned, and the first picture they painted wasn’t pretty.
Mia
Junior had warned Peter about the Cessna landing uphill on that big-ass mountain’s dusty airstrip; however, he didn’t expect they’d see what they did when they stepped out of the plane.
Probably thirty feet in the distance, there was a man tied to a scrubby tree. The sun was beating down on him, and he couldn’t wipe the sweat off his face because his hands were shackled behind his back. Honestly, Peter couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive, and he couldn’t really see his features because he had so much blood on his face.
“He looked about how I felt,” Peter remembered.
Olivia
Just like on Junior’s last trip, they were escorted to Chapo’s palapa by a bunch of guys wearing military garb, carrying backpacks full of grenades and strapped with semiautomatic weapons. Junior and Peter were trying to shake off the image of the man they’d just seen, but it wasn’t easy. You’ve got to be heartless not to feel affected when you see someone dying.
But once they got to Chapo, things couldn’t have been more different. His palapa was clean, cozy, and ready for business. The roof was covered in moss, and the floor was concrete, so even though the sun was beating down, it was cool inside. El Chapo was wearing a military-style hat and a cotton button-down, not a silly silk shirt, like in that photo he took with Sean Penn. He never dressed like that. He looked simple, like a rancher, not a drug lord.
Instead of acting serious and skeptical, like he did when Junior had visited before, Chapo seemed happy. “It’s so nice to see you,” he said as he extended his hand. “Now on to business.”
Mia
The mood of the meeting surprised Peter and Junior. Chapo made them feel welcome and relaxed, as if they had nothing to worry about. Chapo had the most amazing chefs—there were four of them who worked fifteen days on and fifteen days off—and they’d laid out a spread of fresh, homemade food. Sinaloa’s on the coast, and most people from there love seafood, so there were grilled lobsters, shrimp, and oysters, plus carne asadas, filets, T-bones, and homemade tortillas. Chapo didn’t really drink alcohol, so he passed Peter and Junior what he was sipping: ice-cold glasses of agua fresca, infused with watermelon, pineapple, and strawberry.
Olivia
“Eat, eat! You’re so skinny, Pedro!” said Chapo. “We just want you to feel at home here.”
Junior and Peter dug right in, then got to talking.
Mia
Peter started first. “My kidnapping really changed me, Señor. I almost died because of someone else’s mistakes. Someone else’s greed. I never want to put myself in that situation again.”
Chapo said, “I can understand that.”
“If my brother and I are going to do business here, we’re only going to work with you. We want a direct line to you. No middlemen. We can only respond for our
selves.”
Chapo stared at them both, and Peter couldn’t stop looking at his lazy right eye. He felt like it was almost piercing right through him. There was dead silence for a minute, then Chapo spoke up.
“That’s absolutely fine. I’ll also offer you the same prices I give my other high-level associates.” Then he stood up and shook Peter and Junior’s hands—a gesture that meant everything. He didn’t even have to think about it; they were in, right then and there.
Olivia
The drug trade is so cutthroat. People work for years and years to get the best suppliers, the best workers, and great connections. Pretty much everyone just tries to find somewhere they can fit in, and they stay in that same place forever, making a good living but never really reaching the top. During Junior and Peter’s meeting with Chapo, a handful of his associates were sitting in the room, all of whom had sweated blood and probably gotten on their hands and knees and crawled across the desert to work directly with Chapo. Like Uncle Pablo, they probably sold out their own family just to sit in that comfy, cool palapa with its huge platters of gourmet food ready for the taking.
Then here come these two American boys, on their first and second meeting with the boss, and suddenly, they’re working directly with him, no questions asked. When Chapo shook their hands, Peter and Junior looked around at the associates and could see their envy. They were standing in two lines next to Chapo, Junior, and Peter, literally on the sidelines, looking like they wanted to spit on them.
Mia
Peter wasn’t done, though. After they went through their cuentas with Chapo one more time, Peter spoke up.
“Señor, we’ve satisfied our debt to you.”
Chapo nodded. “Yes, and you paid it fast.”
“You charged us $10 million. As you can see from the cuentas, that’s more than we owed you.”
“True, but given the circumstances…”
“I’m not going to argue, especially here, in your beautiful home and with all you’ve done for us. I’m not going to be petty. But there’s one thing you have that I want back.”
Chapo paused. “We’ll see. What’s that?”
“I want my girl’s ring. It’s the only thing you have that’s special to me. To her.”
Chapo laughed. “You make enough money to buy her a hundred rings!” Then he motioned for one of his lieutenants, whispered in his ear, and nodded his head. “It’s yours. You don’t owe me anything for it. I’ll arrange to get it back to you.”
And with that, Peter and Junior were dismissed.
Olivia
The next day, they flew back to Culiacán, where they were set to meet El Mayo and his son, Vicente Zambada, who handled all of Sinaloa’s logistics. Two of El Mayo’s other sons, Mayito Gordo and Mayito Flaco, were also there. They were called narco juniors because they’d been given their power by their father. Vicente and his brothers were young and hip, and they looked more like pop stars than drug lords, Vicente especially—his nickname was El Vicentillo, which translates roughly to “Pretty Boy Vicente,” and he was always dressed in Armani or Tom Ford suits. He was handsome, in his mid-thirties with a movie star smile.
In Mexico, it was unheard of for someone to have made it to the top without being born the son of a cartel boss. Yet here were these two American boys, coming out of nowhere.
“Who have you been working with?” Mayo asked. Apparently even in the drug world, everybody needed references.
“We have our own organization,” Junior said. “We’ve been working with your associates for years distributing throughout the Midwest, but we’ll be working directly with you now.”
After hearing them out, Mayo was excited. “You’ve got to be kidding. You moved this much work all alone?”
“Yes,” Peter said. “We’ve done this all ourselves.”
“Then, welcome, amigos.” Mayo shook their hands. “Welcome to my family.”
Mia
At the same time that Peter and Junior made the relationship with Chapo and Mayo official, they also became associates with one of Mexico’s other major drug syndicate: the Beltrán Leyva Organization. The BLO had worked alongside the Sinaloa Cartel for many years, and the two organizations gave each other work and connections. The BLO had a hierarchical structure; its founders were the five Beltrán Leyva brothers, and its leaders were Arturo “The Boss of All Bosses” Beltrán and Alfredo “Mochomo” Beltrán Leyva. They had their lieutenants and employees below them, but they also worked with subcontractors, or associates.
When Junior first met with Chapo, it was Mochomo who paved the way. Well before that, the Beltrán Leyvas helped Chapo’s brother run the business when Chapo went to prison in 1993, then they helped him escape in 2001. El Chapo’s niece, Patricia, even married Mochomo. The two organizations were so closely intertwined that working for both wasn’t a conflict for Peter and Junior. In fact, it was good for everyone: more drugs into the United States meant more money all around.
Olivia
Peter and Junior needed more money, fast. After all, they’d suffered over $30 million in losses over the past year. Peter’s ransom hadn’t been paid with a handshake and a pat on the back; they’d forked over almost $10 million in cash, jewelry, and properties, including both Guadalajara houses; the San Juan ranch; Rolex, Chopard, and Cartier watches; several pairs of diamond earrings; a diamond necklace; diamond skull pendants; and Mia’s promise ring from Peter.
Mia
Peter’s Chicago kidnapping had put them in the red $3 million; the warehouse hit had cost them $8.4 million when their worker Gustavo Campos was arrested; a theft by an associate named Pacman had chipped away $2 million; Sergio Gomez had put them out another $6.2 million; and Jerry had taken $600,000 when he left for Puerto Rico.
The losses were all part of business, though. We couldn’t put a price tag on our lives.
Olivia
Now that they’d shaken hands with Chapo and Mayo, they were sure to make the money back. Not just that; they were ready to work their asses off to make their business grow beyond their wildest dreams. But it wasn’t going to happen immediately. They’d spend most of 2005 pouring all their energy into their enterprise, preparing to see it explode.
I knew that was going to change everything for them, but what I didn’t fully realize was that it was going to turn our home life upside down, too. Believe me, it did, because after Peter and Junior came back from their meetings with Chapo and Mayo, drug lords started appearing out of freakin’ nowhere. We met hundreds of new names and faces who were so deep in this cartel world. Suddenly, there were guys driving up in Ferraris and Lamborghinis at all hours, then staying all day.
None of it felt normal. Junior, Mia, Peter, and I grew up in a different culture, and sure, the cartels and our husbands were chasing the same thing, but we were Americans, not Mexican narcos.
More than that, it all freaked me out. I thought, What is going on? What is our life coming to? Yet I couldn’t do anything. I’d pushed for years for Junior to leave the trade, but when the cartels started coming by, I stopped asking. I knew Junior and Peter were in so deep there was no way they could get out. Now that doors were opening up, word was spreading, and connections were being made, so much money began pouring in that it was clear they were becoming one of Sinaloa’s biggest assets.
By the middle of 2005, Junior and Peter were in too deep. And when bad things started to happen in our personal lives, it became clear there was no way in hell they were getting out.
CHAPTER 12
For Better or for Worse
Olivia
When I was in middle school I was always asking my mom permission to go out. I hung out with older girls who were allowed to go to parties all the time, but I wasn’t, so I had to beg my mom whenever something came up. I’d say, “But, pleeeaasse, Mom! Tonight’s gonna be the biggest, baddest party!”
“Maybe next time,” she’d respond.
Every weekend I’d get a new flyer advertising some huge event, w
ave it in front of her, and say, “But it’s the biggest, baddest party!” Sometimes, she’d let me go and my dad would pick me up, but when she didn’t, I’d act like it was the end of the world. I’d lock myself in my room and tell her, “I can’t wait till I’m eighteen and can move out!” It pissed her off to no end then, but that’s all in the past. Now, my family’s favorite saying is “It’s gonna be the biggest, baddest party!”
A memorable celebration was exactly what Junior and I wanted for our wedding on June 12, 2005. It was his birthday and exactly one year after we’d gotten engaged. The theme was all-white, and I’d flown to New York City to pick out a Versace wedding dress and a Ferragamo suit for Junior. While I was shopping, I got so caught up in the moment that I bought an all-white Burberry suit for Peter, too. Junior and I planned to get married in Puerto Vallarta, right on the beach, near where we’d gotten engaged, and we’d hired an over-the-top wedding planner to put together all the details for the ceremony and reception. We’d bought hundreds of white butterflies and white doves, and we were setting up a fireworks display that would last for almost an hour. We’d flown about a hundred family, friends, and associates down from Chicago, and we rented a block of rooms in the Four Seasons. We had an itinerary that lasted all weekend. We had dinner restaurants picked. We were going to go swimming with the dolphins one afternoon. There was the wedding, then the reception. It was going to be the biggest, baddest party anyone had ever seen!