Corrupt

by Elena M. Reyes

  “Just had a lovely conversation with the traitor. Nothing more.”

  “Get him out,” I hiss through clenched teeth, my body shaking with a mixture of rage and pain.

  “You heard the lady, Viejo. Up you go.” There’s a veiled threat in my father’s words and Signio jumps into action, helping the older Quintero male out of the room, but not before giving me a look full of hunger and contempt. Of hate-filled desire.

  Signio mouths the word later and sends me a wink that makes me shudder.

  The door clicks closed behind them, and then it’s just my father and me. It doesn’t make me feel any more comfortable, and I move closer to the bathroom door, an action he takes notice of and shakes his head.

  “I’m not going to lay a hand on you, Mija. Relax.”

  “And yet you want to sell me to the highest bidder?” My voice betrays me, the hurt palpable. “Why? How could you ever do this to your own flesh and blood?”

  “I could ask you the same, don’t you think?” He mimics my pose on the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest and face unreadable. “Why sleep with the enemy of your father? Why help him destroy those who’ve always been there for you?”

  “When have you ever been selflessly there?” Tears gather at the corner of my eyes and I blink rapidly, fighting to not let him see how much hurt he’s caused over the years. “Tell me, Dad. Give me a single example where you were, when it didn’t benefit you in one way or another.”

  “This is silly. I don’t need to prove—”

  “Because you can’t. It’s that simple.” Wiping my face, I let out a sarcastic chuckle. “But then again, I doubt you care if I’m upset or disappointed that I’ll never have any kind of daughter/father relationship with you.”

  “That statement is a bit melodramatic, Solimar. Grow up and act your age.”

  “You mean, do as you say?”

  Pushing himself off the wall, he stalks across the room and grabs my face in his hands—his grip’s tight, and my jaw hurts from the strength he’s exerting. “You’re walking a fine line with all this talking back. Don’t test my patience.”

  “If you care about me at all, please let me go.”

  “The wedding is this Saturday. Make peace with it.” Then he’s gone, and I crumble into a heap of nothing on the ground. Saturday is only three days away, and I pray that Alejandro comes for me.

  “Hello, dear cousin,” comes from the door, and I shift my eyes in her direction. Laura’s standing there and she’s not alone; Signio’s with her and holding a possessive hand over her stomach. She’s pregnant, the small bump showcased by her tight top, and the daddy is the man my family is forcing me to marry.

  This is so messed up. Why would they do this?

  “What can I do for you, Laura?” It’s lifeless—you can hear the exhaustion in my tone, and yet she invites herself to have a seat across from me. I don’t say anything and neither does she, but after a few minutes, it’s the jerk beside her that breaks the ice.

  “How’s your mother, Sol? Will she be back in time for the wedding?”

  His idiocy pisses me off and my eyes narrow. “That’s a stupid question to ask. Why would she ever come back to this hellhole?”

  “Don’t be rude. He’s just trying to—”

  “Why are you here, Laura? What could you possibly want?” The less I’ve been around her, the more I notice how selfish she is. Self-absorbed. Only a selfish person would get involved with a man engaged to her cousin, of all people, and then ask said cousin to cover for her while sleeping with him.

  She never kept it a secret. She never asked me how I felt or thanked me for sticking my neck out.

  Laura used me over and over without a single crap given.

  “What the hell has gotten into you?” she snaps, having the nerve to look offended. “Why are you being so hostile when we drove here to visit you and explain a few things.”

  “Get on with it.”

  “I’m going to ignore your bad mood for the time being.” My response to that is to twirl a finger in the air in a whoop-de-doo motion. “I swear you were never so obnoxious before. That man sure did a number on you.”

  The way she says “that man” grates on my nerves and I stand from my seat, walking across the room and opening the door for them. “Leave.”

  “Quit being so prissy, prima. No sense in getting stuck in your feelings, when it’s a lost cause.”

  “Get. Out.”

  “Watch your tone with the mother of my child,” Signio hisses, moving to stand quickly and then groans in pain. He’s suddenly spasming and cursing Alejandro’s name. How brave when the man in question isn’t here.

  “Look at what that animal did to him.” Laura goes from flapping her arms to being in my face within seconds, her pointer finger digging into my right breast. She’s furious and looking at me as if I were scum beneath her shoes. “How could you let it happen?”

  “I’m going to suggest you remove your finger and remember you’re pregnant.”

  “I hate you,” she sneers while removing her hand, only to attempt to slap me. Before her hand can connect, though, I grab her wrist and push it back none too gently. “You fucking—”

  “It’s nice to finally see the truth after all this time. You’re jealous.” I’m laughing again, and it’s not a sound I’d call pleasant. My heart is breaking all over again, and all I can do is laugh with them like they’ve been doing at my expense for years.

  I’m the butt of the joke. The naïve, stupid girl who’d gone to bat for her when in reality, my flesh and blood could care less about me.

  “Of you? Never.” Signio is watching the exchange from the floor and not complaining about being in pain. Now, he’s smirking and when catching my stare—winks. “I have everything you will never have. He loves me and not you. Will never want you.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  “Liar.”

  “Christ, you’re blind.” Shaking my head sadly, I step back and once again motion them toward the door. “But for once, it’s not my problem. You’ll figure it out one day.”

  “I’d be bitter too if I were in your position.”

  “Out.”

  “Have you asked yourself yet how Uncle Matias found you in Miami? Living it up on South Beach?” In that moment, the ground beneath my feet becomes unstable and I use the wall closest to me for support. How could she give me away? How could she put my family’s life at risk? There’s so much I want to say—the urge to knock her teeth in is overwhelming—but nothing comes out. I’m lost inside the pain her betrayal causes. “I recognized the area during our call, Solimar. I’ve been to that same eatery with girlfriends in the past.”

  “Why?” That’s all I can manage. My throat feels raw.

  “Because having him on my side means I can keep Signio. We’ve worked out a deal that appeases both sides, and all I had to bargain with was your location.”

  “Leave before I forget you’re pregnant, Laura.” The anger in my voice catches her off-guard and she takes a step back. “Now.”

  “You wouldn’t—”

  “There’s a lot of thing you don’t know about me.” I take a menacing step forward, fist clenched at my sides. “Get the fuck out of my room. Last chance.”

  With a huff, she leaves the room while dragging Signio behind her. I don’t look at either of them as they cross the threshold, but I do slam the door closed and then sink to the ground. My breathing is choppy and tears are threatening to spill, but I won’t give them—any of them—the satisfaction of breaking me.

  If my time with Alejandro taught me anything, it’s to not show weakness and fight back.

  When the times comes and if I have no choice, I’ll marry the jackass. I’ll sign my name on the dotted line and play pretend while building a false sense of control.

  I’ll bide my time.

  I’ll wait to get my revenge.

  It’ll be me who walks away a widow.

  I’m not giving up on my ha
ppiness with Alejandro, and I’ll do whatever I have to for it.

  He’s coming for you. I know he is, and he’ll be proud his Preciosa didn’t bow down.

  32

  “WHERE IS SHE?” I ask the two guards eyeing the gun in my hand and shaking in their seats, while my mother and sister cry a few steps away.

  Three hours.

  Three motherfucking hours since my little flower disappeared without a trace, and the nonexistent security feed at the restaurant is partially responsible.

  Because I'd be the dumbest motherfucker on this planet if I buy the coincidence claim. She disappeared when their cameras were turned off for scheduled maintenance by their provider.

  “Patron, we parked as Carlos requested, near the back exit, and didn't see anything.” The male of the two shifts his eyes toward his coworker nervously. “No one came in our out from our end.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes...shit!” My hand is wrapped around his neck now, lifting him from his seat while the other guard whimpers in fear. “Please, we did—”

  “I have a critically wounded guard and a missing fiancé.” Mom gasps—says my name lowly, but I pay her no mind. Not now. Not until Solimar is back in my arms. “So, I'll ask once more. Where. Is. She?”

  “And my mom, Mr. Lucas? Can you search for her too?” Christ, I'd forgotten her baby brother is here. He's too young for any of life's cruel reality to touch him, and I loosen my grip—the man crumbles to the floor, but young Matias shakes his head. “I've seen worse. Just, please...please find them.”

  His unshed tears—eyes so much like hers—cause my chest to ache and I nod. “You have my word. I'll bring her back.”

  “Thank—” The door to the penthouse our family’s sharing is thrown open, and in the doorway stands a disheveled-looking Mrs. Quintero.

  Sweaty, eyes bloodshot, and with her hands stained in blood.

  “Veronica.” I say, and those wild eyes settle on mine, crumbling into a painful wail as her son rushes forward. He doesn’t care about her state or the red markings on her body. Instead, he hugs her hard and whispers something that’s almost too low to hear.

  But I do. I catch it.

  “Was it him? Is he here?”

  “Si, Mijo.” Veronica begins to shake, the shock of whatever transpired hitting her. “Now, please go to the room and bring me the small red cosmetic bag on the vanity.”

  “Okay.” No arguing. No questions asked.

  Once he’s out of earshot, her focus turns to me. On unsteady legs, she walks over and grips my arm tight. “Matias took her back to Colombia, Alejandro. He threatened to kill me where I stood after showing us pictures of my Carlos, shot and left for dead.” A broken sob passes through trembling lips. “My little girl sacrificed herself for me while I stood frozen and in shock. I blanked, and it wasn’t until they’d left that I came to. I rushed out of the restaurant, searched for any sign of our guards, and all I could find was Carlos fighting to climb out of the SUV. He’s the one that told me to run when I rushed to help him. He warned me that this asshole shot him and since we didn’t know who else was working with my husband, I needed to get out and not lead anyone back here.

  That son of a bitch just signed his death warrant.

  “Thank you, Veronica. I apologize for this...for what my—”

  “No.” She’s shaking her head vehemently, clutching my arm tighter. “This is on him. He’s a power-hungry asshole and if it weren’t for my kids, I’d curse the day we met.”

  I’m nodding, my fury growing with each beat of my heart. My veins throb and muscles are coiling tight. “How long will it take your son to find the bag?”

  “It’s our cue for him to exit and wait elsewhere.”

  Very smart. “Close your eyes.”

  “I trust you.” Veronica does as I ask, blocking one of her senses a few seconds before I pull the trigger. The male guard is dead within seconds, the bullet to his neck causing him to drown in his own blood.

  “Thank you. Now, I’m going to turn you around, and you three will pack up and be ready to leave within the hour.”

  “And the cleanup?” Lourdes asks while Mom steps in and takes Veronica’s hand, pulling her out of the room. “Do we need to wait?”

  Geronimo, who’s been standing off to the side, pockets his phone. “Already taken care of, courtesy of Thiago, Patron. I sent his cousin a text inquiring about organic composting.”

  I nod in appreciation. I’m going to owe him a hefty bonus when all is said and done.

  He’s more than earned it.

  “Gracias, Geronimo. Have the plane ready to go in one hour; anyone who’s not ready then will stay.”

  “Consider it done.”

  In less than twenty-four hours, I’m back in Bogota and staying at a hotel less than half a mile away from Casa de Nariño. I can see the presidential palace from here. Count how many guards are at the gate, and through my eyes on the ground, I’m aware of every second of Solimar’s stay.

  These are men that know Carlos—close friends—and have heard from him as recently as a few hours ago.

  They know Matias Quintero paid for his assassination outside of a Cuban restaurant in Miami. They know I’m coming to burn this place to the ground and everyone in it that stands in my way.

  All ten on watch tonight will work through the morning when another group is set to relieve them. They’ll never make it inside for the switch. The platica I’ve given each man is more money than they make in the accumulation of six months. It’s enough for them to spoil their families a little bit and still save for any rainy day ahead, something that most citizens around the world can’t afford to do.

  “Where is he now?” I ask through the walkie, the message going to the earpiece of the guard outside Sol’s door. He doesn’t answer right away but does turn his end on so I can listen in. At first it’s low, but that changes after a few seconds.

  Are we sure he’s still in Miami?” The voice coming through the walkie-talkie is older and speaks gravely, as if the owner smoked a few packs of cigarettes a day for more than ten years. “I want that hijueputa’s head on a spike to decorate the front lawn, Matias. Make it happen, and find my motherfucking money.”

  “I’m working on it.” Another male speaks, and I can deduce its Matias talking to his good-for-nothing sperm donor. “He’s been spotted on South Beach by Angela who’s still with him. Seems he’s looking for Solimar in Florida, not here.”

  That’s because, in exchange for her life, Angela is serving a higher purpose. Lying comes naturally, and she’s agreed to feed false information to save her hide.

  “And did you find who made the hack?” Ice clinks in a glass before they call out for the guard I’m listening through to refill their glasses. “Because that man isn’t smart enough to do it himself. Once an ignorant farmer, always an ignorant farmer. Alejandro is just like his father: a dreamer with mediocre hopes for more.”

  I chuckle at this.

  Never underestimate your enemy. They’ve never understood this but will soon learn.

  I am the devil’s son, and I’m here to collect my pound of flesh.

  “No. Nothing yet.” There’s a tinge of annoyance to the president’s tone. Of exasperation. “Whoever cleaned out your accounts is more than likely long gone, Father. Besides, they are not our focus. Solimar needs to marry Signio or the deal with the Russians is off. Cortez wants this union and will hide behind the charity work we present her with. A few stolen women here or there won’t draw too much attention, and much less at the innocent woman helping to feed the poor.”

  Jose chuckles. “That’s quite a deal you have going for yourself.”

  “Harvested organs go for a high price on the black market. I’m nothing more than a supplier.”

  “And you think your daughter is going to help you? Can you keep her under control?”

  There’s a beat of silence and then a hum. “She doesn’t have much of a choice. I hold no qualms in slicing up Vero
nica, my wife or not, and my daughter knows this. And if she wants her mother to stay alive, complete obedience is the only way.”

  Chairs scrape against the flooring and their voices begin to drift. They’re not saying anything of importance, but I make up enough. The wedding is tomorrow at ten a.m. with four hundred of their closests attending.

  Signio Cortez will never make it down the aisle.

  “Where is she now?”

  “In her room. I delivered her dinner before being called to serve their drinks.”

  “And is Cortez in the building?”

  “No, Patron.” The sound of a door opening and closing comes through the line. It’s quieter where he is. “Those two are at Codicia for the bachelorette party, and her cousin Laura is at home.”

  “Gracias, parce. Keep a good eye on her.” I wave a finger in the air and Geronimo stands, keys in his hand, and already walking toward the door. “I’ll add a little something extra for all your troubles.”

  “You’ve been more than generous. Just save her. She’s too good for these monsters.”

  Codicia is closed to the general public when I arrive, but no one dares to deny me entry when I arrive. Instead, the same woman from the night I met my little flower is at the hostess stand and this time avoids all eye contact.

  “Welcome to Codicia, Mr. Lucas. Tonight we have three floors of debauchery: voyeur, audience participation, and an open orgy. What’s your poison?”

  I ignore the gasps behind me from Laura and offer a smile to the poor employee. “I’d like to start at the orgy and end up in voyeur, if you don’t mind.”

  “Excellent choice, sir. Please present your wrists.” There are ten men with me tonight and with Laura as my special guest, that makes twelve. One by one we get stamped with a special dye only to be seen under a fluorescent light until we get to the petulant princess who tries to refuse.

  “I don’t want to be here, Mr. Lucas. Please take me back home.” There’s an ever-present tinge of snootiness in her voice that grates on my nerves, but I ignore it for my Sol. Because hurting this idiot would only serve to hurt the one I love, so I’ll be going a more unconventional route.