by Karina Halle
Luckily, I had prepared for that too. I had a good amount of men from different cities and plazas that Esteban hardly knew about. They hadn’t been at the compound with me for that very reason, but they were also very big, very bad, and very dangerous. My reach stretched farther than Esteban’s ever could. So while I knew he was probably settling down in my old house, with my old wife, with his own crew of whatever fucking delinquents he could have mustered up, he wouldn’t stay that way.
Problem was though, that he was going to try. I didn’t have TV in my room but I was sure I’d get the newspaper. I knew that Esteban would make an announcement soon and it would reach my ears, news to the people of Mexico that now he was in charge.
I would lose face a little from that, at least to the public. I hated losing face.
I took in another deep breath, feeling the rage begin to boil. I needed to keep thinking analytically, without emotion. I needed to put my plan in motion to get out of here and then put an end to Esteban, to get my revenge.
The minute my anger took over, the minute I thought about what I really lost, then I would lose focus. I would become a slave to feelings and that was a very dangerous thing for a person in my position.
I wanted to talk to Diego, so when Emilio brought me dinner – filet mignon in a mushroom cabernet sauce prepared by a private chef – I asked for him to get to me as soon as possible. I wasn’t even sure if the man was alive.
They promised me they would pass the word on and after flipping through a worn copy of Moby Dick, I lay down in my bed to sleep.
But sleep wouldn’t come. Though the mattress was soft and the sheets were smooth, I kept seeing images flash behind my eyes.
They were of Luisa.
Her with Esteban. The guilt on her face. Her body as Esteban fucked her. In and out. Him with her. My woman, defiled.
Looking back, I don’t even know how I got through that. I supposed that was one of the benefits of being so angry, you go blind to everything. But now it was seeping back in, invading my addled mind. Her lips around his cock, how small and vulnerable she looked beneath him, his hands moving up and down her body like she was an afterthought, because he knew it so damn well.
As I lay there, my mind volleyed between being ashamed for making her go through with it all, to feeling righteous because she deserved it. I hated her and I still loved her. And if I dwelled on it anymore it was going to tear me apart. But maybe I needed to be torn apart, just for a minute, because I deserved shit just as much as she did.
I failed as a husband because of my own damn grief. And I failed at grief because I hated her so. And I hated her so because I loved her more than anything.
And that’s how everything was going to end. In a big fucking mess. Because we were terrible people who did terrible things to each other. We were slaves to hate because hate was strong and we sacrificed love to fuel it.
***
The next day when Emilio brought me my breakfast, I was informed that while Diego was alive and well, he was a slippery snake to get a hold of. I’d say I taught him well but sometimes I thought Diego knew far more than I did.
Needless to say, that didn’t put me at ease. And when Hiberto brought me newspaper, I cringed when I saw the headline “I’m the new boss” and a story about Esteban taking over the cartel. In fact, judging by the childish writing and his god damn spelling errors, I was pretty sure that Esteban wrote the whole article himself and passed it on to a journalist who had no choice but to publish it.
So, that didn’t help. I spent the rest of the day stewing, trying to get in contact with Morales or Borrero. No luck there. They were both dead. Finally I was able to get a message to “Bandito” Bardem, a narco in Juarez, who promised to come and fill me in on what was going on.
Three days passed by before he showed up and by then I was ready to bite his fucking head off.
I hadn’t seen Bandito in months. Short and stocky, he had a face like a piece of ham and a mustache that always seemed dipped in some kind of oil. Probably bacon grease. His shirts, though expensive, always had sweat-stains, and he was a slave to that narco look that the boys in Juarez all had, cowboy boots, lariat necklaces and giant hats. I think he looked like Speedy Gonzalez from the cartoons I watched growing up.
But despite his god awful taste in clothes and mustache wax, he was a good man. A mean man. To be mean was usually good and Bandito could be as vicious as a viper. When he wasn’t eating, of course. Which he was doing when he walked in the door, salsa verde dripping through his hands and onto the floor.
I raised my brow and breathed in deep, knowing if I blew up at him now there was nothing to stop him from walking out. I needed intel and I needed it from someone like him, who had power and who knew what he was doing, even if he looked like a piece of pork with boots attached.
“Javier,” he said through a mumble of food. “Nice outfit.”
“Same to you,” I said as I sat down at the chair, motioning for him to take the other one.
He grinned at me and took his seat, finishing off the rest of the taco and wiping his face with his hands. I shuddered but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Where is Diego?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s alive.”
“I know that,” I snapped. “I need him here. There is unfinished business I need to attend to with him.”
“Does this involve taking down Esteban?”
“Of course it does.”
He nodded. “Yes. Well, I can help you with that. It can’t be easy for a man like you to be made a fool of. And to know what’s happening to your own wife.”
I froze. I swallowed slowly. “What?” My voice was quiet but my heart thumped around loudly.
He frowned. “You don’t know much, do you? Don’t they keep you informed in here? Shit, this cell is nicer than my house.”
That wasn’t true, since he lived in a McMansion in El Paso, but still. “No,” I said. “Nothing to do with Luisa.”
“Oh.” He wiped his lips again, nervous now. “Well, I don’t know how to tell you this or even if you care but your wife … she’s not doing well.”
Everything inside me flinched. “What do you mean?” I asked, even though I didn’t want to know. I wanted to pretend that I didn’t care, to save face again, but I knew that was impossible.
“Well, she’s with Esteban now, so what do you think?”
“I think she wanted to be with Este,” I told him.
“If that was true then, it can’t be true now. He’s a sick fuck, did you know that too?”
I had my suspicions. Then again, how could he be any worse than me? Suddenly images of what I had done, the barbed wire, the machete, came at me and I realized if I had the power and nerve and rage to do that to them, he had the same ammo to do it to my wife.
“Is she alive?” I was barely audible.
“I said she wasn’t doing well. If she was dead, she would be doing better, my friend. Esteban is trying to prove how tough he is and, well, unfortunately he’s using her to do it. There are pictures … on the internet. He leaked them or someone from the cartel – well, his followers – did. I wouldn’t look if I were you.”
“I won’t,” I said. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t bear it. Just knowing what was happening, the humiliation, the retaliation was enough to cloud my judgement. I cleared my throat, trying to shake it all away. I needed a drink, badly. “Listen,” I said. “I need Diego.”
“I see that. I’ll see what can do for you. And you better hurry too or there won’t be much left of her.”
“She’s pretty much dead to me as it is,” I said. “She wasn’t faithful. She brought this on herself.”
“I know,” he said and leaned forward to look me square in the eye. “But would you rather inflict your own revenge on her or let Esteban do it for you?”
I let his words sink in. There’s no way I would let Esteban take away what was still mine.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
/> Javier
A week passed in the prison without word from the outside world and for the first time since I was brought in there, I was starting to fear that I may never get out. I was still treated like a King, but even though Hiberto, Emilio and the warden were all on my payroll and under my control, they weren’t really part of the cartel. That wasn’t their trade. They helped me the best they could but getting intelligence in and out was harder than it seemed. It was akin to sending a flea-ridden passenger pigeon into the sky and hoping for the best.
I had no doubts, of course, that they would help me escape but I also knew it had to be planned just so and I didn’t want to leave the safety of the prison before I knew the plan that was in place. Everything had to be just right this time.
Finally though, on a hot humid night that sent moths to my window, just before I fell asleep, there was a knock at my door. I shuffled over to it in the dark and opened it.
Out in the hallway was Diego, backlit by a dim light. Behind him was Emilio who gave me a quick nod and then shuffled back down the hall.
“Javier,” Diego said, his voice gruff. “I came as soon as I was able to.”
“I have a hard time believing that. Did you expect me to shit where I sleep forever?”
His expression didn’t change. He wasn’t in a humorous mood, but then again when was he?
I gestured him inside the room and flicked on the lights. He looked around, nodding at the set-up.
“It’s not half bad.”
I closed the door behind us. “For an ape, perhaps. Now, what the fuck happened to you?”
He shook his head and sat down on the bed. “It’s a long story,” he said, almost sighing. “I managed to escape when the federales came.”
“What about Evaristo?”
“He went with them,” he said hesitantly.
“And then?”
“And then when I was headed over here, I was apprehended.”
“By whom?”
“Evaristo.”
Fuck. So then what the hell did this mean? Diego had been compromised? I mean, he was here wasn’t he.
“You wearing a wire?” I asked him. “Because I’m already in prison, I have no problems in slicing your clothes open and finding out. If I hit an artery, it will be an accident.”
He glared at me. “Calm down. What kind of idiot do you think I take you for?”
I shrugged. “Everyone seems to think I’m an idiot lately. Take off your clothes.”
The expression on his face was almost comical. “You want me to what?”
“I’m not stupid and I have to make sure, so take them off. I won’t stare too long, I promise.”
Diego grunted and got up, shucking off his denim shirt. “I don’t know what fucking games you were playing in your bedroom when this all went to shit, but you better not have anything kinky in mind.”
“I was only playing mind games, the best kind.”
Reluctantly Diego got down to his tighty whities and when I was satisfied that there was no wire on him, he redressed.
“All right then, get me up to speed and then get me out of here,” I said impatiently.
He slowly belted his pants and gave me a dry look. “You really are the love them and leave them type, aren’t you?”
“So now you’re trying to be funny, after all this time?”
Diego sat back down on the bed, lips pursed, hands folded in front of him. “Here is the thing. Evaristo is with us.”
“With us?”
“Yes,” he said with a nod. “With us. He switched.”
“You don’t just switch.”
“In this land, in this work, you do. You know that. Este switched.”
I curled my fists together, trying to breathe out my annoyance. “Este never switched. He was always planning on doing this. We both knew he would try something.”
“But he still switched. He turned on you.”
“Well, so did a lot of people.”
“Not Luisa,” he said.
I raised my hand. “I don’t even want you to even mention her name,” I snapped. “She has nothing to do with this anymore. She can’t. This is about revenge Diego, that’s all I want. I want everything back to the way it was and I want dead bodies at my feet, do you understand that? And I don’t want no fucking federale agent standing in my way, regardless if he switched or not.”
“He won’t. He’s here to help us, to be part of us.”
“He’s lying. We can’t trust him.”
“I think we can. And we need someone like him. Young and bright and determined. You know his story of how he grew up, he was never meant to be part of the federales and those damn politicians; they turned on him right away, demoted him. You were right about that, they were too afraid he snitched.”
“He did snitch,” I said. “He gave us the info. Just too fucking bad that has to take the backseat until I’m out of here and done with Esteban.”
“He’ll help us,” he said imploringly. “And you’ll want his help.”
“Why?”
“Because he made a bargain with Esteban. He’s got surveillance on him.”
“So do we,” I said.
“But not like the federales do. And yes, we know he’s at the compound, but we have to make sure. And if we don’t get Este there, we have to be able to track him. We have no idea what he’s been doing on the side all this time.”
I shook my head and sat down. “I don’t like this. Adding people in, it’s too complicated.”
“I know, patron. But he’s here, now, downstairs, and setting something up that will get you out of here immediately.”
I looked at him sharply. “What? I don’t need help getting out. I paid for this.”
“He’s going to make a statement after, saying you are still in your cell and unharmed. It will let us do everything we need to without anyone thinking you’re loose, that you’re a threat. Este will be caught off-guard.”
“Wait,” I said, my mind struggling to catch up. “Make a statement after? After what?”
“You need your own brand of crazy to fight his crazies,” Diego said, standing up.
Suddenly an alarm went off from somewhere in the building.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked. Outside the window, red lights flashed, spotlights were searching the hills.
“Prison riot,” Diego said. “They’re all being let out of their cages and whoever is left standing is coming with us.”
“Well, that’s a bit unnecessary,” I said. “Not to mention morbid. A fight to the death, the winners join us? Who are we, savages?”
“You have no idea what’s going on with Este, do you?” he asked and I saw a glimmer of something sorry in his eyes. It made my palms sweat. “After I tell you, you’re going to want to create as much fucking mayhem as possible.”
“It’s Luisa,” I said. “I heard.”
He gave me a terse smile. “It’s not just Luisa. Javier, it’s about your sister. Alana.”
Even with the flashing lights, the god awful siren blaring in my ears, everything in the room seemed to still.
Alana.
I could barely speak. “What about her? She’s dead.”
“I know.” He breathed out deeply. “But it was Esteban who killed her.”
Funny how some words could render you immobile. I could only blink at Diego, trying to comprehend what he was saying.
“Excuse me?” I finally said, my hands balling up into fists again, nails digging into my palm. I absently noted I needed a manicure, as if that was something normal and safe that I could focus on.
“Perhaps you should sit down,” Diego said, carefully laying his hand on my shoulder.
I shrugged him off. “Esteban killed Alana?” I repeated slowly.
“It was printed today in one of the papers,” he said. “I am guessing you didn’t see.”
I shook my head once, my mouth open, fumbling for words, for anything.
Sympathy looked str
ange on Diego’s rough face. “I’m sorry. He announced to the world that it was he who stole the boat, who kidnapped your sister and then blew it to hell with her on it on the way to Cabo San Lucas. He even went on to say that he’d hired an American sicario to do the job, and when he couldn’t, he killed him too.”
An American assassin. Somewhere in the back of my fading mind I knew he was talking about Derek Conway, a man who used to work for me and then disappeared. Fragments of the last conversation I had with Alana came floating back, like a puzzle rebuilding itself in my head, piece by piece.
The only thing I could say was, “Why?” But even then I knew it was a stupid question. The only answer was because.
Because she was my sister.
One of the last of my family left.
Because he knew personally how much family meant to me, even if my own family didn’t know it themselves.
He killed her to send me into a tailspin.
My beautiful, darling young sister.
Then he moved onto Luisa. Seduced her when she was lost and vulnerable and I was taking out my rage on the rest of the world, purposefully pushing her away, wanting her out of my life, wanting to drown in grief and violence and madness.
He took advantage of every part of me.
Now I was in jail, and he wasn’t going to stop until my cartel was in his hands, until he’d wrung every lost drop of blood from my body.
It takes a monster to know a monster.
He was the worst of us all.
And I was going rip him from limb to limb, tear him from ass to mouth, skin him alive and piss on his broken bones until I lost all traces of whatever humanity I had left.
I was living, breathing wrath and I was never going to stop.
I don’t really remember what happened next. Everything went black, but it could have been my rage or it could have been the prison’s power system failing.
The door to my cell opened and Diego and I walked out, into a land of screams and anguish. I would fit in here just fine.