Chapter 34
VAL
“I’m pretty sure you broke about a hundred laws to get us here,” I said, gripping the oh-shit bar in the passenger seat as Nolan zipped through traffic and ran countless orange lights. Diego just snorted from the coupe’s cramped back seat.
The whole drive had been tense. Quiet. All of us trapped in our own heads as we prepared for what we were about to face. When we arrived at the dumpy motel, we parked down the road away from the street lights. It was dusk and the increasing shadows provided decent cover.
“That’s Hal’s car.” I pointed to a shitty El Camino that was one of a few cars in the lot.
The dummy hadn’t even tried to swap cars.
As I swept clammy hands through my tangled hair, a nervous sweat broke out on the back of my neck.
To calm myself, I studied Nolan’s profile.
Backlit by distant streetlights and with the red of a traffic light reflecting on his tan skin, he looked like an avenging angel sent straight from hell to mete out his vengeance.
Holding the steering wheel in a death grip, he looked ready to explode with wrath.
Several minutes later, the rumble of tailpipes approached and a couple rough-looking bikers parked a block away.
“There’s our backup,” Nolan said. Then he turned to me, brushing a hand across my cheek. “Stay here.” He got out of the car, his hand on the gun hidden under his shirt. Diego climbed into the front seat and followed him, his own weapon tucked in his pants.
“Like hell,” I mumbled and got out too.
Both men glared at me over the top of the car, and I glared right back. “This is our little brother. And that’s our mom, as much as I wish she wasn’t. Maybe I can talk them down.”
A muscle feathered in Nolan’s jaw, and he exchanged a look with Diego. “Your sister, your call.”
With a scoff, Diego said, “Like she’d listen to me, mano. C’mon.”
When we reached the bikers, they looked even scarier up close. They were some of the biggest men I’d ever seen, covered in tattoos and battle scars, the tell-tale bulge of weapons visible under their leather cuts. Nolan and Diego gave them that dude-nod that guys did in greeting.
“You with the Switchblades?” Nolan asked.
The largest of the men responded with a grunt. “We’re associates.”
“Thanks for coming,” Diego said, offering a hand. The man eyed it for a moment, then shook it.
“Don’t much care for kidnappers—at least not when it’s actual kids,” the man said. “We’ll watch your back if things go sideways, but if the cops show up, we’re out.”
“Understood,” Nolan replied.
“See you on the other side, then.” The guy crossed his arms and glanced at his two men, who moved down the block to keep a lookout.
Then Nolan, Diego, and I were walking toward the motel. “Stay behind us,” Diego said to me. I wanted to brush him off, but my fear beat a stuttering rhythm in my chest, so staying behind them sounded like a good idea.
Nolan knocked on the room in front of Hal’s car, keeping one hand poised on the gun in his waistband.
Diego, however, looked more casual, as if he was accustomed to doing things like this.
It had me wondering what kind of jobs he took to pay for Juanito’s meds.
That’s a follow-up conversation for later.
Looking at those two, ready to go to battle, I gulped.
There was certainly no love lost with Antonella, but I didn’t want to kill her. Hopefully she’d come quietly.
A few seconds later, the motel room door cracked open, held back by the safety chain. Hal’s ruddy face appeared in the slit. When he recognized me and Diego, his eyes bulged and he moved to slam the door shut—
Nolan’s hand shot out and caught it, all of his teeth flashing in a cutting smile. “Hi, Hal. I believe you have something of ours.”
“Who the fuck are you?” asked Hal in a gruff voice.
“Doesn’t fucking matter,” Nolan said. But the look on his face said, Your worst fucking nightmare. Nolan opened his mouth to say more, but Diego took over.
“You’re going to open this door and let Juanito leave, or I’ll call the police and send you and Antonella to prison for the rest of your pathetic lives.
Me oyes, cabrón?” Diego said the words calmly without a shred of malice, and that was somehow scarier than Nolan’s outright animosity.
Who’s this guy and what did he do with my brother?
Hal’s face rivaled the redness of a tomato and he had a crazed look in his eyes. I took that moment to jump in. “If Antonella wants more time with Juanito, we can arrange it,” I lied. “But taking him without permission? That looks bad to a judge. And you don’t want that, right?”
I could see Hal’s two remaining brain cells duking it out for dominance as they tried to light a fire in his flaccid face.
“Val?”
At the sound of Juanito’s voice from inside, my knees turned to water. Mumbling, Hal shut the door, opening it again with the safety chain removed. Then Juanito moved to run toward us, but Hal hauled him back at the last second. “Woah, bud. You’re staying right here.”
“Hey, little dude,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking as I glared at Hal. “You okay?” I asked Juanito, who nodded with wide eyes. Shit, he’s too pale. He needs his meds.
“Who’s there?” Her voice, rough from years of smoking and alcohol, came from within the seedy motel room. A thin woman with a halo of frizzy, dull brown hair wearing a floor-length paisley silk kimono wandered to the door.
“Hi, Antonella,” said Diego, still in that scary-calm voice.
Antonella’s eyes widened in their sunken sockets, recognition flickering to life even through her drugged-out stupor.
Every time I saw her, she looked more like a skeleton.
The bags under her eyes and the tremor in her hands told me she definitely hadn’t kicked the habit.
I just didn’t know which habit she was currently on—alcohol, pills, or something stronger.
Her glassy eyes led me to believe it was something much, much stronger.
As I took her in, a wave of anger and revulsion coursed through me.
This was the woman I’d been afraid of? This shell of a person?
Since the crash, I’d been at war with myself to prove that I was strong, even though I hadn’t been that night I let her drive.
I’d spent years atoning for my role in the crash, sequestering myself in a prison of my own making, trapped in the hell of my own mind, while Antonella had been the one in actual prison, and yet she’d never shown an ounce of remorse.
“I knew you’d come,” Antonella sneered. At the glint of rancor in her bloodshot eyes, I knew she’d never stop wishing I was dead.
She blamed me for her incarceration, for saving their lives when she’d rather be six feet underground.
And so she’d taken Juanito from me, because she knew exactly how to hurt me. She always had.
In that one fractured moment, with that one exchanged glance, I realized I had nothing to prove to her. I didn’t have to punish myself for the events of that night anymore. Because all of this was ending. Right here, right now.
Before I could speak, Antonella latched on to Juanito’s arm. “Stay away from my son!” Moving faster than I would have expected, she yanked him behind her and reached to slam the door, but Nolan forced a boot between the doorframe, shoving it open.
After that, things moved quickly and in slow motion at the same time.
Hal threw a glass at Nolan’s head, who ducked, and it smashed against the wall. Then Hal pulled out a gun while Antonella wrapped her bony arms around a crying Juanito. Nolan and I put our hands in the air, showing them our palms, but Diego aimed his gun right between Hal’s eyes.
“Val, what’s happening?” Juanito sniffled.
“It’s okay, mano.” But I’d never felt less okay in my whole life. My hands shook and nausea roiled in my belly, but I put on a brave face for him.
“That’s it,” said Hal with a nasty grin. “Now you just back it up nice and slow, get in that pretty little car, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Not gonna do that, Hal,” said Diego. He cast a sideways glance at Nolan and something passed between the two that had me taking a step toward Juanito.
The boys were done talking.
When Nolan dove and slammed into Hal’s middle, everything launched into chaos. Three gunshots. Juanito crying, Antonella shrieking. Diego’s swearing filling the air.
Nolan and Hal wrestled on the ground while Diego dealt with Antonella. Hal was shorter than Nolan, but he was beefy and had the gun in a death grip. Grabbing the nearest object—the TV remote—I chucked it at Hal’s head, which gave Nolan the chance to elbow him in the face.
But then behind me, I heard Diego scuffling with Antonella. I turned to see her doing her damnedest to claw his eyes out. When Antonella gouged her nails across Diego’s cheek, he reeled back with a cry and she continued her assault.
Adrenaline surged through me and I grabbed for Juanito while Antonella was distracted, but she wouldn’t let him go so easily. Abandoning Diego, she lunged for Juanito’s ankle, tripping him as he attempted to run away, and kicked Diego in the jaw to keep him back.
“No!” I shouted as Diego flew to the side. When a spray of his blood painted the dingy carpet crimson, I saw red.
Everything is red.
The sound of screeching metal filled my ears as I found myself back in that car nine years ago, barreling toward the concrete barrier.
I drifted out of my body as I watched Antonella’s hands clench around Juanito’s throat in real time, his breaths coming in gasps, the sound of Nolan and Hal’s struggles a distant din, Diego bleeding on the carpet as he staggered to his feet in a daze.
Red. So much red.
But then I saw Juanito’s face turning bright red, eyes bulging—
The sound of two gunshots from across the room pierced my swirling thoughts.
NO. I’m not powerless.
I will never be powerless again.