Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Pablo
My rage roils inside me like a hurricane ready to make landfall, destroying everything in its path.
I didn’t mean for Flora to see my anger—see the man devoid of all emotion except rage—but she did.
Rather than soften my expression and push my hatred aside for her sake, I let her see inside that monster.
She needed to know who I can become. She needed to decide whether she can live with that.
I wasn’t always like this. Mamá used to call me a sensitive soul.
Maybe I was once upon a time. But I’m also the best at compartmentalizing my emotions.
I had to do it with Juan. He’d antagonize me until I wanted to beat the shit out of him.
But I never could. I loved him because he was my little brother, but I rarely liked him.
I almost never respected him. I would push those feelings aside until I could go for a long run.
I could’ve run a marathon by the time I finished middle school because he’d push me to where he had to be out of my sight for a couple hours, and I needed to burn off steam.
It taught me to look at situations objectively and respond accordingly.
Tío Enrique and Papá realized that meant I was the one most suited to be an enforcer.
Tres J’s reputation makes them ideal for stirring the pot and fucking up shit for anyone who looks sideways at my tío.
Anyone who doesn’t learn from that warning comes to see me.
I can put aside the man’s family and friends.
I can put aside the man’s insistent apologies, pleas for forgiveness, and prayers for absolution.
What soul I might have left is far from sensitive.
“Tío, can you tell Flora more?”
I don’t like my tío’s pause. He’s always one step ahead in a conversation. A pause doesn’t mean he’s considering his answer. It means he’s preparing me for it. I stroke Flora’s entire ass as I pepper her forehead with kisses.
“Shhh, chiquita. It’ll be all right. I’ll make sure it is.”
I whisper my reassurances to her, and I pray I’m not blowing smoke up her delectable ass.
I never wanted to make something better for another person more than I do right now.
The arm wrapped around her tightens to press her fully against me.
She shifts to pull the robe open, so we’re chest to chest, skin to skin.
“Florencia, Ernesto didn’t admit to Humberto you’re a chemist because Humberto brought it up. He approached Humberto. He was going to get thirty percent of the revenue. He told Humberto he would use his portion to help pay down your student loan debt.”
“He could’ve paid it all off if he wanted to. He could’ve kept me from having any debt and paid for my entire education. I never asked because I knew he’d never do it.”
“I know. He’s been planning to kill Tres J’s. He’s not done with his grudge either. It wasn’t enough to have played a part in my brother-in-law’s death. He wants my sobrinos dead too.”
Flora trembles in my arms, overwhelmed by the magnitude of this situation.
It doesn’t surprise me, but I know she’s not prepared for these manipulations and machinations.
It’s all too much for a sane person to handle.
There’s a bit of a sociopath drilled into everyone in a syndicate. It doesn’t faze me anymore.
“Was he going to use the same mercenaries Humberto sent after me?”
“Possibly, but I doubt it. It would be a suicide mission, and most mercenaries know that. Most know the stories about after Papá’s death. Some were alive for it. Many know what happened after Esteban’s death. It’s a deterrent.”
It was Tía Luciana who made sure people understood what a grieving widow’s capable of. Usually, we leave no trace. We dispose of bodies, so people just disappear. One day they’re there. Another they’re gone. Poof.
Not my tía.
She took a page from the Mexican cartels’ book. She wanted people to know it wasn’t her brothers who avenged Tío Esteban’s death. She made heads roll.
Like literally.
She’d sent Tres J’s to stay with us in New Jersey before she got to work.
She had a dozen men who worked for Ernesto kidnapped and beheaded.
Back then, the intersection of Avenida Boyacá and Calle 80 up in the northwest part of Bogotá was the most dangerous spot in the city.
She had the heads dropped into traffic, so cars swerved to avoid them, ran over them, or pushed them along the road.
That wasn’t enough.
She had the bodies hanged from the neck over the side of Puente Calle 92, one of the busiest bridges in all of Bogotá.
She sent a hand or foot to every major street gang or minor cartel leader.
She sent one of Ernesto’s huevos to his wife because she wouldn’t let Estrella have a real man if Tía Luciana couldn’t have hers.
She sent Ernesto’s second-in-command’s entrails to him wrapped up like a Christmas present.
She included a handwritten note that said, “Watch over your shoulder while you can. Come after my family again, and I will pluck out your eyes. Then you’ll never see me coming. ”
I should let Tía Luciana handle Ernesto for good, but he’s still Flora’s abuelo as much as I despised him before and as much as I want him dead now.
“Will you do the same thing as Luciana?”
I guess she knows more than I thought.
“No, he’s your family, Florencia.”
“Thank heaven for small mercies.”
She mutters her response. I don’t know if tío heard her.
“Flora, do you want to go to Bogotá before going to New York? I’ll take you to see your mother and to get anything you want from your apartment. I won’t allow Ernesto near you.”
I made the offer earlier, but that’s before we learned everything we know now.
“I need to see Mamá, but I don’t want to risk your life or mine if there are people searching for me.”
“Florencia, my brother and nephew are still in Bogotá. I have a small army of men down there with little to do now.”
That Humberto’s dead.
“We can protect you.”
I feel her uncertainty as she tenses, relaxes, and tenses again. She leans away from me so she can see my face.
“What do you think, Pablo?”
She’s deferring to me even though my tío is jefe de jefes.
“We have the house on San Andrés. She can say she wants to get out of the city for a while because of everything that’s happened. You can meet her on the island. You said nothing about your apartment. Does that mean you don’t want to go there?”
“I don’t care about anything in there. It’s not worth the risk.”
She’s unconvinced we can protect her. It makes me feel like a failure.
I’m not giving her the reassurance she needs.
I put the phone on the armrest of the sofa and guide her to straddle my lap.
I push down the pajama pants, and her eyes widen as though they might fall out.
I guide her onto my cock, then press her to lean chest to chest again.
Both of my hands grasp her ass. She releases a shuddering breath before she picks up the phone.
“Tío, can we call you back when we decide?”
“Sí, sobrino.”
“Te quiero, Tío. Talk to you soon.”
“Te quiero también. Bye.”
Flora hangs up and puts the phone back on the armrest. She burrows against my chest as I feel tears drip onto it.
“Papí, I don’t know what to do. You decide, please.”
“Right now, you’re going to stay right where you are. You can cry. You can sleep. You can just let me hold you. You’re safe.”
“I don’t know what to do. Can I stay like this forever? I feel safest when we’re like this. You’re a part of me, and I feel like I have the strongest, most powerful shield around me.”
“You know I’ll move heaven and earth for you, chiquita. You belong to me now. You’re a part of me. You’re mine.”
My possessive comments make her sigh with each one. She’s relaxing now.
“I know you’re completely drained from that conversation.
You’re going to let me decide. You’re going to nap with my cock buried in your cunt.
When you wake, you’re going to be my good girl and let me fuck you hard.
I’m going to fill your tight little pussy with my cum because you can’t get enough.
You’re going to beg for it. Do you know why? ”
“Because I belong to you. You get to decide, Daddy. You’re in control.”
“That’s right, chiquita. I decide.”
She nods. I look down, and her eyes are closed.
There are things as her Dom and as her boyfriend I will never do.
I will never slap her face. I will never fishhook her mouth.
I’ll never spit in it. That’s just not how I want to treat her.
Real degradation and shame aren’t our kink.
But if dirty talk while I’m buried in her reminds her she’s given me control so she doesn’t have to worry, then I’ll say the most perverted things I can come up with.
It’s been two days since Flora and I spoke to Tío Enrique.
I’ve had three conversations with him since then, but Flora wasn’t part of them.
Each one included my father as well. One of them had Alejandro on the line too.
There were things I needed to discuss that she couldn’t hear.
Some of it was regular Cartel business to keep me caught up on what’s happening and what I’ll need to do when I get home.
Tío Enrique’s been very understanding and isn’t rushing me to get back to work once I arrive. He knows Flora will need me. However, I still feel guilty that my cousins are carrying the burden of work I normally do on top of their own responsibilities.
I mentioned that while Alejandro was on with us because I apologized. He threatened to break my jaw the next time we boxed if I insisted upon babbling shit nobody wanted to hear. That made me feel a little better, but it still doesn’t assuage all my guilt entirely.
One day I will inherit from Tío Enrique, and I want to be as good a leader as he is. He works harder than anyone else. He never expects people to do more than he’s willing to do.