I open my door, but Vincent tells me to stay inside and closes it. He resumes watching the interaction between the men.
Giovanni goes right up to the man, there’s not a second of hesitation. The man says something and stands immobile beside the sedan with its dark-tinted windows. I wish I could hear what was being said. When I see Giovanni poke a finger in the guy’s chest and lean in close, I know he’s issuing a threat. My mind can’t help but wander to what he said to his father.
“If you touch her, I will cut off your hand.”
If he touches me, Giovanni will cut off his hand. Is this because of what happened with his tutor? Because his father slept with her?
A few minutes later, he’s back and in the car. I feel the rage coming off him. I remain silent, watching him. His face is set, eyes straight ahead. He’s fuming.
“Take her home,” he says, giving the instruction to Vincent.
“Home?” I guess I don’t expect him to let me walk away like that.
I don’t want to say I’m let down. I’m not. It’s not disappointment at all. Just surprise.
But maybe he’s already tired of me. I should be glad. It’s what I want.
He glances at me. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to go home.”
“Yes, but… What happened in there?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“You threatened to cut off your father’s hand if he touched me.”
He just watches me.
“Why would you do that?”
“You don’t know our history, Emilia. What you think you know—that’s not it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
He takes a long time before he answers. “Trust me, this is in your best interest.”
“I don’t understand—”
“It’s not for you to understand.” We don’t speak again until we’re parked outside my building. “Pack a bag. I’ll send someone for you in a few hours. In the meantime, you’re not to leave your apartment.”
“What? Why not? You can’t just bring my world to a standstill.”
“Believe it or not, Emilia, it’s to keep you safe.”
“What, this is in my best interest too?”
He reads a text message on his phone, ignoring me.
“I need to work,” I say.
“Pack your work things, then.” Vincent opens the door. Giovanni is busy with whatever new message he’s reading. “Vincent will walk you up.”
“That’s it? You’re not going to tell me anything else?”
He stops reading, looks at me, and cocks his head to the side. “Do you tell me anything, Emilia?” I don’t reply. “Exactly. Don’t leave the apartment, understand?”
I just snort and step out of the car.
Vincent walks me up to my apartment and even sweeps it before leaving. I’m surprised he’s allowing me to stay here alone because part of me knows I’m safest at Giovanni’s house. But then again, he probably has a man stationed outside.
Once I’m alone, the first thing I do is search through my kitchen drawers to find the old phone I keep as a backup. I’ve never had to use it before, but since I don’t have my purse, I’m glad I always kept this one. But it’s a couple of years old, and it needs to be charged before I can even turn it on. I plug it into the wall and locate my spare keys. I make some food while I wait, wishing it were later in the day, wanting the cover of darkness.
I do as Giovanni said and pack some things, then change into running clothes and put on a baseball cap, pulling my hair through it. I tuck some cash into my armband. Once the phone is charged, I stick the headphones onto my ears, but nothing is playing. I just want the man Giovanni has following me to believe I’m going out for a jog. It was easy enough to lose him last time. I doubt I’ll have an issue now, even though it’s daytime.
I walk out the door and tuck the key into the pocket in my shorts. I look up and down the street when I get outside, pretending to stretch as I scan for the soldier. He’s in his car a little ways down the street.
A few minutes later, I hop down the stairs and move into a steady jog, warming up my muscles gently as I navigate the pedestrian-filled streets. I know the man in the car is following me, but I’ll lose him at the next street.
When that light turns green, I drop down, pretending to tie my laces. I take my time as cars honk their horns, forcing the driver through the intersection. He’ll wait at the next block, I’m sure, but when the light turns red, I pop into the coffee shop on the corner and exit through the side door, where I hurry through the narrow alley and come out on another busy street. From there, I cross two more city blocks before hailing a taxi and giving him the address. I’m out of breath when I glance behind me, but I’m pretty sure I’ve lost him. And if I haven’t already, I will in the sea of yellow taxis. I take out my phone and dial Nan. I never make this call from home. It’s a rule for myself. Even if Alessandro found me, I won’t take the chance he’ll find what I’m hiding.
Nan answers on the second ring.
“Emilia, honey? Is that you?”
“Hi, Nan. How are you?”
“Oh, honey, I’m so glad you called. I’ve been so worried all day.” She’s alarmed, which immediately makes me nervous
“What is it? Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know, baby. There were some men here today.”
“Who? Is dad—”
“He’s fine,” she stops, corrects herself. “Same.” Because he’s not fine. “I tried to call you.”
“I didn’t have my phone. I’m sorry. Was it Alessandro?” To say his name makes me shudder. To think of him finding our father in the state he’s in terrifies me. It terrifies me more than him coming for me does.
“No. I don’t know who they were, but they’re gone now.”
“Did they hurt him?”
“No. He’s the same, honey. They didn’t touch him. But they know it’s him. I’m sure.”
“Okay. I’m heading out there right now. Sit tight.”
“No, baby girl. Don’t come here. If it’s your brother—”
“I’m not leaving you alone there. If it is Alessandro’s men, then he’s on his way too. I’m not leaving you unprotected.”
“Who will protect you?” Her tone is sharp.
“I’ll see you soon.”
The taxi pulls up a few blocks away from the old house, and I pay the driver. This is a quiet part of town on the outskirts of the city. Not much foot traffic here and fewer yellow cabs. I look around cautiously as I exit and go around the block, breaking into a jog and having to work hard not to sprint. I don’t want to attract attention to myself, although I know my secret is no longer safe. Someone’s found me out. I just have to hope it’s not Alessandro.
Who else would it be though?
Nan is waiting for me at the door. The lights downstairs are out except for the kitchen, which is around back. We go directly there. I take off my cap and the armband that holds my phone and set them both on the table.
“I made us some tea.”
“Thank you. I’ll be right there.” I take a look around the house, although I’m not sure what I’m expecting to find. It doesn’t look like anyone turned the place upside down, but there’s no reason to be here but to find him. And he can’t hide. He can barely move on his own.
The door to my father’s room is open a crack. The window shades are drawn and the lights from the machines cast a dim, unnatural glow over him. I push the door open, listen to the familiar squeak of the hinges, the low hum of the machines. I step inside, smile a bittersweet smile when I look at him, even though he can’t see me. He’s sound asleep. He’s always sound asleep. I tuck the blanket up a little closer, ignoring the tubes, pretending they’re not there at all, and lean down to kiss his forehead, then brush a few wisps of white hair back from his face. He looks so much older than he is. We just celebrated his fifty-sixth birthday. But for anyone who doesn’t know him, to look at him now you’d think a man of eigh
ty lay in the bed.
I feel Nan enter behind me. She rubs my back and gestures for me to go with her. I do, and she closes the door behind us.
“He’s okay. I don’t think they even touched him,” she says. We speak in English, we always have, the breaks in her words are familiar and comforting. Nan has been in my life for as long as I can remember. She was our surrogate mother. She raised Alessandro and I, traveling with us between Mexico and the states. Nan only left when we were in our late teens and didn’t need watching. By then her daughter had had her own baby, and she’d come to New York City to help her. I don’t think she ever expected things to end up like this. My father helpless and in her care. My brother the one responsible.
The night of the shooting, I’d been home. I wasn’t supposed to be, and I am sure that’s what saved us both. Masked men broke into our house, killing most of the staff before going after my father. I’d been in the attic, looking for old birthday decorations to surprise him the following morning. I wasn’t expected until two days later, but I’d finished my work early. I’d decided to surprise my dad.
I remember the sound of gunfire, automatic weapons mowing down every man, woman, and child in the house, on the property. They even killed the unarmed women and the smallest children. No one thought to check the attic where I hid. Where, I’m ashamed to say, I cowered. But I had no weapon, and I too would have been killed if I’d come out of hiding.
I still don’t know if it was Alessandro himself who shot my father. I don’t know if it was him or his men. And although I had no doubt that Alessandro was behind the assassination, him telling me what he did, admitting that it was him before he did what he did to me, it made me hate him. I don’t think I did hate him until then.
By then he’d been gone for three years. I knew of the bad blood between him and my father but never suspected it had gone so far. Never realized it was different than when we were kids. That the damage Alessandro could do was much more deadly now.
But when they set the house on fire, the house where we grew up, that’s when I came out of the attic. My father, miraculously, wasn’t dead yet. I found him on the floor behind his desk in his study, gunned down but breathing, and somehow, I got us both out of the house, glad the assassins had run off to celebrate. They hadn’t waited to watch the house burn, watch all those memories turn to ash. That was a godsend. I managed to get us to safety, to a doctor who my father trusted. He kept him hidden and tended to his wounds. We knew right away there was no hope for him. He would live, but the bullet to the head, it had taken away the essence of the man I knew as my father. Still, I couldn’t abandon him.
Nan and I sit down at the kitchen table, and she pours us both a cup of tea. The smell of it takes me back. Back to a happy time. But a look at her face tells me she’s afraid.
“Tell me everything.”
“They came in the morning. Three men. Americans, or at least they spoke English like Americans. Dark hair and olive skin, but not Mexican.”
“You’re sure?”
She nods.
“Then not Alessandro’s men?”
“I don’t know. Italian maybe?”
“Italian?”
“Maybe. They rang the doorbell, and when I opened the door, one man smiled at me, said his name but too quickly and they all move inside, the man smiling taking my hands and holding them but making sure I know I should do as he says.” She stops to sip her tea, and I see how she’s aged today. How the lines on her face are a little deeper. I can’t do this to her. I can’t expect her to put herself in danger to take care of my comatose father.
“I’m sorry, Nan. I shouldn’t have left you here on your own unprotected. I’m so sorry.”
“No, child. I love that man like my own family.” She cups my head, strokes my hair. “You are like my own daughter.”
“Go on with your story, Nan.”
She nods, takes another sip of tea before continuing. “The men, they looked around the house. They all wore dark suits, and I knew they had guns because I saw one under the jacket of the man who was sitting with me, talking about something but I don’t know what. He was trying to keep me calm, I think. They don’t want a hysterical old woman shrieking, I suppose.”
“I suppose.”
“When they found your father, I started to tell them he was my brother. Asked them what they wanted with him. But they ignored me and take a few photographs and the whole time, your father just lay there like he does. God bless him. I thought they would hurt him, but they left. They simply said good-bye and told me to lock my doors tight and left.”
I rub my shoulder, the back of my neck. I’m tense, everything feels stiff. “They never said who they were? Didn’t leave anything?”
She shakes her head.
“I think if it was Alessandro’s men, they would have hurt him.”
“But who else? We have to get him out of here. I’ll make arrangements as soon as possible. I’ll stay here with you tonight. Do you still have the gun I gave you?”
She points to the kitchen drawer and nods. “I won’t use that. And you shouldn’t either.”
I get up, open the drawer, take it out, and check that it’s loaded. “I will if I have to. I’m not going to let anyone hurt us.”
I spend the day thinking about all my options, weighing everything, knowing I have exactly one. By the time I decide to do it, we’ve already had dinner and it’s late. “Why don’t you go up to bed. I just need to make a few calls.”
I have to think about this as an acceleration of my own plans. I meant to come here today to tell my father and Nan that I’d be leaving. That I’d be having my father moved as soon as I settled somewhere. But now, I have to do things differently. I have to get him to safety first. Get Nan to her own family. And maybe I can’t leave. Maybe I have to pay the devil. Maybe I have to accept Giovanni’s help. His protection. But will he help me when he sees what I’m hiding? Who I’m hiding? Even if my father is no longer the head of the Estrella cartel, they are far from friends.
But I have no choice.
I get up, say a silent prayer in the hopes that I’m doing the right thing, and pick up the house phone to dial Giovanni’s phone number. He answers on the second ring, and I’m surprised when he knows it’s me.
“Good run?” he asks. He knows that too.
But it doesn’t matter anymore.
“I need your help.”
10
Giovanni
I’m standing outside the house at the address I found in John Diaz’s pocket. It’s where Emilia has been keeping her father hidden for the last four years. I wonder how she’s done it. How she’s kept her secret. Saved his life. What’s left of it.
The door opens, and Emilia stands there looking reluctantly up at me.
I smile down at her. I like her like this. In my debt. Needing me. Needing my help. My protection.
She steps aside, and I enter along with several of my men, who split up throughout the house. She closes the door, and I glance around the large, old space, then back to her. I cock my head to the side.
“Don’t gloat,” she says.
“That’s not a very nice welcome, considering I’ve just driven across town at your request.”
“We need to talk terms before I accept any offer.”
I chuckle. “I make the terms, Sunshine, and you already made the offer. Now first, thank me for coming out of my way especially when I clearly told you to stay put.”
It takes her a long minute, but finally, she drops her gaze and says it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Just know there will be payment later. Where is he?” I move around her, but she catches my arm. He eyes betray her alarm.
“You’re not going to hurt him, right? I mean, he’s harmless. He’s not the head of the cartel anymore, Giovanni.”
I look down at where she’s gripping my forearm. “Where is he?”
When she turns, I notice something bulgy in her tight running clothes and h
alt her by grabbing her arm.
“You can’t think I’m this stupid,” I say, tugging her shirt up and taking the pistol.
“I didn’t put it there for you. I wasn’t sure who’d been here this afternoon. If it was Alessandro.”
“Still, I’ll hold on to this. You don’t have a good track record. Do I need to strip search you? Are you hiding anything else?”
She looks down at herself and gives me an incredulous look. “Where do you think I’d manage to hide something?”
I give her a one-sided grin. “I don’t know. You’re a tricky one.”
“I’m not hiding any more weapons. I promise.”
“Take me to your father.”
I follow her to a room at the back of the house, making a mental map of the property as I pass through. Once we get to the door, she stops, turns to me, and looks like she’s going to say something. Instead she changes her mind and pushes the door open.
The room is simple with not a single picture or poster on the walls. The curtain is drawn over the one small window, and a large hospital bed sits in the center with an old man sleeping on it, hooked up to several machines. He doesn’t stir when Emilia enters. She goes to him and takes his hand.
I follow her in. Earlier today, I’d seen the photos my men sent. It had taken us some time to confirm it was him. He’s a shadow of the man he’d been. Emil Estrella was a force to be reckoned with. This sleeping man is simply an old man. Not a threat. Not even close.
When I look at her, she’s watching me.
Just then, there’s a commotion in the hallway. Instinctively, I draw my weapon and push Emilia behind me as she tries to slip past me and into the hall. An old woman is standing half-way down the stairs. Emilia exhales and closes the door as quietly as she can before going to her.
Giovanni Page 9