11. Elias
11
Elias
T he girl's lips kissed the rusted metal grate, her eyes bulging with desperation beneath the murky water.
Watching her fight for life when she could easily sink to the bottom and end it all is mesmerizing.
I kicked the barrel, causing the frigid water to slosh around her flared nostrils, her lips puckering tighter against her salvation.
Overflow spilled out through the hole on the side of the barrel, splashing my shined shoes as it kept the water level just below the grate, allowing her to breathe.
Javier stepped up beside me and crossed his arms over his chest. "How long do you think she can last?"
I shrugged my shoulders and tipped my head to the side. "I give her ten more minutes. The water gets colder the longer it runs."
"Not today. The freezer went out yesterday. She's getting lukewarm now, at best, water."
I ground my teeth, then pushed a breath through my nose. "Then make it an hour. She'll tire of keeping her lips tipped to the sky. You?" My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I reached for it. "How long do you think she'll last?"
"She's Andrés' girl."
I scowled.
"She has to be resilient to survive that. I’ll give her a few more hours."
I cocked my head to the side, and glared at my phone, then pocketed it again, silencing the ringer.
"Nadia?"
I nodded, then kicked the barrel again. " Mhmm ."
The girl hit the inside of the barrel as she startled, her features in a perpetual state of panic.
Javier leaned over her and gave a small wave and smile. "I might have to lower my prediction."
A chuckle bubbled up from my chest, then died when my phone chimed again.
Nadia.
"She's persistent these days."
I raised my brow and cast him a dirty look. "When hasn't she been?"
From the moment she attached herself to my hip, it was as though I'd entered into a high school love affair.
"It's been three years of her acting like a lapdog. Are you sure you want to marry her?"
I shrugged and scrunched my nose as I inhaled stale dust.
Javier crossed his arms and chuckled. "Is that why you haven't attended charity events since?"
I toed the barrel again just before one of my men took a bat to it.
The solid thunk rang out through the rafters, and her whimpered cries escaped her confinement, sending a niggling in the back of my mind.
"I'm afraid someone else will come around and try to be the next Mrs. Elias Hernández."
" El Jefe … afraid? Never," he said, sarcasm dripping with his tone.
He laughed again, and I tucked my hands in my pocket.
"You may be my best friend, but I won't hesitate to sic her on you."
My phone rang again, and I answered it in a huff. "?Qué tal?"
"It's your mamá."
Nadia's breathless panic tingled down my spine. "What's happened?"
"She wandered outside the gates, and we can't find her."
I snapped my fingers at Javier and pointed to Ramirez and Felipe to follow as I spun on my heel toward my vehicle. "How long has she been missing?"
"An hour. Maybe?"
"Maybe?"
"I don't know. Ay dios mío , Elias. I'm not her caretaker."
I growled and tossed my phone into my pocket, then turned back to Javier. "I want everyone available out there scouting for her. She has an hour’s head start. Find her." I tossed open my car door. "And get that puta out of the barrel and bring her to me."
Javier nodded and issued commands as he dialed someone on his phone.
I started my car, threw it into drive, and peeled out of the warehouse, leaving a plume of smoke in my wake.
Pressing the button on my steering wheel, I dialed Mamá's caretaker.
"Se?or Hernández, I don't—"
"Those words should never leave your mouth when it comes to her."
"I'm sorry. Se?or Hernández. I only turned away for a moment, and then she was gone."
I clenched my fingers around the steering wheel. The leather groaned under the strain.
"Se?or Hernández? Are you there?"
I pressed the end call button and pushed down the pedal, the engine roaring with its response.
Minutes faded away, bleeding into a blur of desert.
My mind raced like a scalded cat as I sped down the highway, my thoughts circling back to the girl in the barrel. Her determination, strength, and will would be her undoing.
Why wouldn't she be happy to rid herself of Ortiz?
I'd thought for sure she'd jump at the chance to end his life, just as I would.
My phone rang out across my car speakers. "Yes." I flipped on my blinker and turned on my street.
"We've found her. Three blocks away. Eduardo will grab her and bring her back," Javier said.
I pressed on the gas. "Give me the location."
Javier relayed the information, and I turned the corner, then parked in front of the older-styled home, with a full front garden.
I stepped out of my car and marched my way towards her.
She stood with her back towards me, her hands moving across the pepper bushes, pruning the dead leaves and aerating the soil beneath it.
Mamá grabbed the small watering container beside her and tended to the garden as she used to do when I was a child. A rare smile permed her lips.
The house owners stood at their door, staring through the storm doors welded with security bars.
Even though we offered the best protection in this city, there have been times when someone lost their head and broke into homes. They'd never get away with it for long. We always found them and dealt with them in our own way.
"Mamá?" I placed my hand on her shoulder, my moments of observation over. "It's time to go home now."
She turned and gave me a sigh as though she hadn't just disappeared from my home. As if we didn't have the conversation about safety.
What could I expect from her in this mental state?
"I'm almost done. I just needed a few peppers. I don't remember them being so neglected." She turned back and moved on to the next plant.
" Mamácita , these aren't ours. You wandered off. Let's get you back before people—"
"Ach ," she hissed. "I only went for a walk."
I placed my hands on her shoulders, then grabbed her dirt-stained hands. "Let's go. Nadia went out of her mind looking for you."
"Nadia. I haven't seen her in days." Mamá scowled. Her utter disdain for her grew the more her Alzheimer's worsened.
"She was at the house with you when you left. Don't you remember?"
Her brows pulled together as I drew her away from the garden bed and toward my car, with three security vehicles parked behind me.
"I don't think so."
I sighed and walked her around the front, opened my passenger door, allowing her to slide in, and then shut the door when she settled inside.
" Gracias , José." Digging into my pocket, I pulled out eighty-five hundred Pesos and handed it to the homeowner who stepped outside of his home. " Por tu familia ."
" Muchas gracias , se?or Hernández."
José beamed, his eyes widening as he stared at more than a month's wage in his hands.
I nodded and walked back to my car.
If I took care of my people, they would return in kind—keeping an eye out on the towns and city, bringing anything to my attention and resolving their disputes.
I'm not a saint or innocent, but I've never let my sins touch the people around me, including the towns.
I slid back into my seat and shut the door.
Mamá stared at her hands and the dirt embedded underneath her nails. "I remember when they were long and slender. Not like now with arthritis and pain."
"Age touches us in different ways, Mamá."
I turned the car around on the narrow residential street and made my way back to our home, where she'd somehow managed to slip through fifty well-trained guardsmen.