15. Elias
15
Elias
I handed each man a second silver coin as I stepped into the dim basement, my footsteps echoing against the walls of my quiet house. The gun sat heavy in my waistband, the warm metal pressed against my bare skin.
It was a familiar, reassuring presence, an emblem of power in a world my papa had cultivated, reimagined, and grown.
If only he could see it today.
Javier followed as we ascended the basement steps, my hand clenched at my side.
The caretaker's blood stained my knuckles, her brain matter fanning across the plastic-covered barrier, along with the guard who let Mamá slip through the walls.
"You did the right thing."
I scoffed. "I know."
It wasn't impossible to take care of an elderly woman, even one as stubborn as her.
"You run a tight ship. Louisa should've known better."
As we passed by, I snagged a towel out of the closet and wiped my hands. "She did."
There was no room for incompetence in my employ and those who made even the slightest error were met with unscrupulous punishment.
Crinkling plastic filled the space at the bottom of the steps, and I glanced backward.
Edwardo and Luis carried her body, one at her head, the other at her feet, the blood pooling in the center as it escaped her tortured body.
Their laughter carried up the staircase, swirling me in familiarity.
There was no place for sentimentality and frailty in this merciless world.
The icy fingers of death brushed against one's cheek, akin to savoring a glass of fine tequila alongside a meal.
Born into a world where harsh decisions were demanded and vulnerabilities exploited like ravenous wolves on wounded prey, one must either surrender or perish .
We hit the top of the steps, my men grunting at the bottom as they struggled.
Javier and I made our way to the heart of my home, a little sitting area where we'd had papers and photographs strewn about a tabletop with the perfect view overseeing the property.
I paused at the table, staring at the photograph of Joaquin.
Stubborn bastard.
"Any idea who Sophia Torres is?"
Javier sat down, taking the chair he was in before my men brought in Louisa, and hunched over the table, the papers and photographs furrowing his brows as he concentrated.
"Nada . It's like she's a ghost ."
I clenched my molars, grinding them together. "That's unnerving."
Javier nodded as he ran a hand down his face, exhaling and sitting back in his chair.
I grabbed the photo of Joaquin standing in the middle of the shipping yard, his yellow safety helmet atop his head as he spoke to the logistics manager—who knew nothing of Joaquin's involvement with Andrés Ortiz.
"Keep digging." I tossed the photograph down and grabbed another of Joaquin entering his home, his wife kissing his cheek at the door. "Leave no stone unturned. I want answers, Javier, and I want them fast."
Who the hell was she, and why was she interested in my shipments?
He dug his thumbs into his eyelids with a ferocity that mirrored the pent-up frustration festering within me. His slow and reluctant nod carried the weight of our shared annoyance.
I released my grip on the photograph, letting it fall with a soft thud upon the table.
A lilting, feminine laugh danced through the parted windows, causing Javier and me to exchange a quick, knowing glance.
In unison, we slid our chairs back from the table, the legs scraping against the floor in eerie harmony, then made our way toward the back door, our footsteps echoing in the sudden stillness.
Beyond the glass pane, a verdant world unfolded, bathed in the gentle radiance of the descending sun. And there, amid that beauty, was Mamá and Grace, standing together, engrossed in conversation, picking tomatillos with Manuel standing guard… not where he should've been—not where Grace should've been.
Javier pointed, his brows furrowed. "Did you allow that?"
"No." I scowled. "I didn't."
Why would I allow my prisoner to frolic in the garden? She was supposed to be chained up with sleep deprivation and starvation until she broke down and gave me the one thing I wanted the most… her cooperation.
I clenched my fists, my knuckles cracking under the strain.
Mamá gripped Grace's shirt sleeve and handed her a bright red tomato, undoing all of the hard work I'd put into her in the last week.
Grace bit into it with a greedy bite, the juices running down her chin and onto her shirt.
Wait… "She dressed her…"
Javier tipped his head back and gave a growing sigh. "Did she shower her too? Her hair is braided and shiny."
"I'm going to kill Manuel."
They moved through the garden, and Mamá pointed to a small white flower.
Grace bent over, her fingers holding the delicate petals from below, and smelled it—a smile across her supple lips, stirring something inside of me.
"I'll handle it." Javier moved around me, and I grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from interrupting the one moment Mamá seemed like herself.
It was strange. She'd been slipping away into the Alzheimer's abyss, her spark of joy dimming every week.
But now…she engaged in conversation, her eyes alight.
It'd been a long time since I'd seen her so happy. Maybe six months or so when I announced my engagement to Nadia. As her memories faded, she'd had less and less of those days of normalcy and happiness.
And then there was Grace with a beaming smile despite her predicament.
How was that possible?
Either way, she couldn't be left around Mamá or anyone else.
"Let me. You find Sofia."
I let out a slow breath as he nodded and retreated to the table.
How many of these moments did she have left?
Would it hurt to let her stay out a little longer?
Long, slender fingers and manicured nails slid around my shoulders, her perfume, a Kurkdjian, wafted around me—a gift for our one-year anniversary she insisted on celebrating. "There you are." She pressed her lips to my cheek. "What are we looking at?"
"Nothing."
I wrapped my arm around her waist and brought her closer, pressing my nose into her throat, and inhaled. I nipped at her flesh with a light growl.
"Ouch ." Her eyes widened as she leaned away with a slight slap to my chest. "What's gotten into you? You know I don't like that." She pushed against me until my hand fell away from her waist, her gaze meeting mine. "I came to find you about a dinner party I'm attending..." Her words faded into a whisper as my sight drifted to the backyard, my attention fixed on Grace devouring the last bite of tomato.
" Hello ? Elias?" Nadia's fingers snapped in my field of vision, bringing me back to the moment.
"Don't do that." I scowled, my eyes narrowing at her. "I'm listening."
"Really? What did I even say then?" Nadia paused, her hand planted on her hip. "What are you staring at?"
She turned and followed my gaze out the window, her expression growing more suspicious by the second.
Tension between us thickened like an impending storm as she turned back to me. "Is that the girl from last week?" Her voice lowered into a tone that dripped with suspicion. "What is she doing here?"
"She's no one."
"She's out there with Rosa. That's not no one. You don't let anyone around her."
I tore my gaze away from the scene outside. I offered her a tight-lipped smile, the kind that didn't quite reach my eyes. "It's a...complicated situation." I inhaled, my shoulders expanding.
Nadia arched an eyebrow. "Does this complicated situation have a name?"
"Grace."
"And is she staying here ?"
I clenched my jaw, the muscle pulsing as I squeezed.
"Nadia, I do not answer to you, nor do you need to know what goes on within my home."
"This is going to be my home soon too." Her eyes widened as her mouth dropped. "Shouldn't I at least have a say?"
I shook my head. "Not even when we're married." I gestured toward the couch, which gave me a full view of Grace and anything sinister she may be up to. "Sit."
Nadia looked at the scene outside and sat beside me, her long, slender legs draped over my lap, my hands moving up and down her smooth skin. Before we could get comfortable, she detailed a dinner party she wanted to attend, complete with guest lists and seating arrangements.
What were they talking about?
Why did Mamá risk all of us to release her?
She'd never pulled something like this before.
Was it her Alzheimer's?
Would I need to take extensive steps to keep her contained to a certain portion of the house?
The more she aged and lost her way, the more I brought my work home.
Leaving her for long periods was out of the question, but how else could I keep an eye on her when she pulled these stunts?
I had a duty to protect her and ensure her happiness—no one could do it better than me.
Nadia nudged my shoulder. "What are you working on?" She pointed to the table, and Javier glanced up.
"Nothing that concerns you."
She withdrew her legs and pulled them beneath her. Kneeling beside me, she pulled my face in her hands, forcing me to break eye contact with the anomaly outside.
"When are you going to let me in?" Her finger tapped my temple.
I swiped at her hand and dipped my head to the side. "It's better if it stays in there."
She sighed and ran her hand down my jaw. "So, do you want to go to the dinner with me?"
My brow rose, her change of topic giving me whiplash. "I'll consider it."
"It's for a good cause." She shrugged one shoulder, her voice raising on a slight lilt.
I withdrew her hand from my cheek and stood. "I have a lot going on. I said I'll consider it."
"Okay. I'll let Pasha know I'll need a plus one." She stood beside me and sighed. "I'm going to go home and shower unless…you want me to stay?" Her voice lowered into a soft lull, which she used too often when she asked a question for which she wanted a 'yes'.
"Not today. I have meetings the rest of the day."
Javier jerked his head up and checked his watch, then glanced at me with a scrunched expression.
Nadia wasn't one to pout, but the disappointment in her big brown eyes did it for her.
"Sorry. Maybe tomorrow." I pulled her against me and kissed her. My lips closed tight as she moaned.
"What was that for?"
"It's your goodbye kiss." I walked away as Javier snickered, my shoes clicking on the marble, then sluffing in the grass as I marched their way.
"Mamá, what are you doing?"
"Elias." Her smile broadened across her lips. "I was just showing Grace my garden and picking vegetables for the salsa and Pozole."
Manuel turned and faced me with wide eyes as I leaned into him. "You're a dead man, Manuel. A dead man. I'll give you a headstart, though." I gave a small nod.
His hand shook as he lifted the weapon strap over his head, laid it at my feet, and took off running towards the gate.
"Cover your ears, Mamá."
I pulled my pistol from my waistband, took aim, and fired.
Manuel fell to the ground like Grace's smile. Her face blanched, her hands fumbling at her waist as she caressed her pocket.
I narrowed my gaze at her.
Did she get a weapon while Mamá cleaned her up?
"Why did you have to do that?" Mamá removed her hands from her ears, a frown creasing her forehead.
I stared at Grace's long braided hair—a chocolate color now that it was clean, compared to the greasy, dull ends in the dim light.
She had a faint scar on her left cheek, and her eyes were a vibrant green that would rival blades of grass on a rainy day.
The bruises across her face settled into a yellow-green, and the cuts from her fall were nearly healed up.
"He put us at risk."
" Ack." S he waved me off with a brush of her hand. "You won't have any soldiers left if you keep up at this rate."
Javier rushed out as Rafael and Emilio dragged Manuel by the arms towards the driveway.
"You let me handle that." I stepped closer to Grace and slipped my hand around her elbow, my touch gentle, but firm, my fingers dimpling her depleted muscle. "And what were you planning on doing with Grace?"
She sighed and swiped her dirty hands on her garden apron. "I need her to learn the recipes." She pinched Grace's cheek, her eyes dropping to my hand on Grace's arm, then glanced up at her and smiled. "Isn't that right?"
Grace swallowed and bowed her head as she nodded, her pulse racing under my touch. Her arms pulled tight across her body, and my grip along with it, causing my knuckles to brush against her soft breast.
I turned into Grace. "How much Spanish do you understand?"
"Most of it." She shrugged. "Jorge taught me so I could understand the men…"
A hardened chill rushed under my skin. "And who is that? Jorge, I mean."
Grace ran her fingers across her brow with a wince as Mamá turned her back to us and picked some dried beans on the vine.
"He was the closest person I could call a friend while Andr—"
I pressed my finger to her pillowed lips and glared. "Do not speak his name around her." My teeth gnashed together. "Is that clear?"
Her lips parted as she nodded, her chest deflating. "Sorry."
"Grace needs to go, Mamá. Say goodbye."
Grace's bright eyes widened.
Did she think I wouldn't send her back into the hole?
Why reward poor behavior?
"Oh? Where? I had things I needed her help with."
Mamá placed the beans in the basket hanging from her arm, her back turned towards us as she disappeared in her activity.
Grace's brows drew together, her cheeks sunken with deprivation.
Sometimes, it was too much for her mind to concentrate on more than one task at a time.
"Back to her home."
"Okay, say hello to your father for me."
I sighed, my shoulders sagging.
That moment didn't last long.
Jerking Grace towards me, I walked her back to her shed where she'd rot, her feet tripping over one another as we stepped around the puddle of blood soaking into the grass. "Taking advantage of an elderly woman is low, Grace."
"I… I didn't." She shook her head, her body turning sideways as we walked forward, her hands pressed together in prayer. "I'm sorry. She insisted I come with her. I couldn't say no."
I choked down a bit of laughter.
Ahh , the well-known 'Rosa' treatment. No one told her no, not even my well-trained men, armed to the teeth, which was why she could get through the guard sitting at the shed and now I had a man to replace.
Useless cabrón.
We entered into her pitiful shack, the stench a stark contrast to her fresh strawberry mint shampoo. "Try not to prolong this any further." I set her on the ground next to the old dog blanket and clasped the shackle around her ankle, the flesh a flaming red and purple hue.
My finger pressed into the damage, and she pulled back with a hiss. "That hurts."
"You're only inflicting this upon yourself." I pulled out my phone.
Bring me ointment.
"Just tell me what I need to know, and you can be on your way."
Her head bowed, hiding her green eyes beneath thick black lashes. "I'd never forgive myself."
My teeth clenched as I frowned. "Has he gotten so under your skin that you're willing to die for him?"
"I would never…" She shook her head, her gaze narrowing as she jerked her gaze my way. "I'd never die for him."
Javier walked in behind me, his shadow playing him as a bigger giant than he already was on the wall in front of me. He handed me the green decorative square tin, then walked out, leaving us to our conversation.
"Then why won't you tell me where he is?" I lifted her foot and placed it on my thigh, the unexplainable urge to mend her running through my veins. Pushing her shackle, I dug my fingers into the cloudy goop and smeared it on her wound.
"Why are you helping me?" She leaned forward, her eyes watching my fingers slide around her ankle.
"I'm not." I placed the lid back on the tin, then wiped my fingers on her shorts at her hip. "Now answer the question.
She held her palms up and tipped them in my direction. "Do you see these hands?"
I glanced down at her palms, her sling discarded in the corner, then flicked up to her face, cleaned of blood for the first time since I'd met her. A pang hit the center of my gut. I cleared my throat. "What about them?"
"They have blood on them, Elias." She sighed, her chin trembling as she stared down at her hands. "I won't add more to help you with your vendetta. I can ' t ."
I pulled a deep breath in through my nose and placed her foot back on the floor. "What if killing Andrés would wipe away your guilt?"
She drew her knees to her chest, her chain scraping against the interlocking flooring. "You know nothing of the guilt I bear if you think it could be so easily discarded."
I raised my chin. "Then you will die a miserable and lonely death." I ran my finger down her cheek, the stitches poking through her hairline, and picked up the ointment. "I hope you're prepared to die for whatever hill you're making a stand on." I rose from my haunches and walked out of the door, locking it in place, a sob reaching my ears.
Snarling, I walked inside, leaving Mamá in the garden, and dropped into the seat beside Javier.
A smirk played on his lips, crinkling the religious tattoos from his teenage years, etched after his first murder. Those tattoos, like my men who believed in silver shielding their misdeeds from God, served as a hopeful shield, aiming to protect his actions from reaching divine eyes. "How did that go?"
"She needs more security around her. I can't have her pulling this again." I sat back in my chair, my ankle crossed over my knee.
" Tú Mamá o Grace ?"
Both. "Mamá."
He nodded. "I'll make sure of it."
"Maybe we shouldn't bring our business around here anymore." I paused, rubbing the stubble that had grown throughout the day.
It wasn't a good idea to bring work home, but what choice did I have? She needed me. And she didn't have many years left. I wouldn't let work consume me as it had Papá.
Javier tapped his fingers on the table. "I'll set up a secure location close to here."
I tipped my head in thanks.
"What about Grace?" He sat back in his seat, a drink in hand. "Did she say anything this time?"
I shook my head. "She's scared. More scared of him than of me."
"We can change that. Let the men go in with her. See how long she holds out then."
"That's not happening." I dug my thumbnail into the pad of my pointer finger. "If she could survive Andrés…" I clenched my fist at my side. "We don't do things like that."
Javier shrugged. "You deal in flesh trade, why not this? If it will give you the answers you need…"
"I don't traffic. I merely provide the secure transportation and location for the auction."
"Is there a difference?"
"To me, there is."
Pushing the chair from the table, I walked to the liquor cabinet pressed against the wall.
The crystal decanter glistened in the natural light cascading into the room, a beacon of temptation in a world steeped in shadows. The light golden liquid sloshing into the snifter held a promise of escape from the darkness that clung to me.
Throwing back the snifter, I swallowed the tequila in one go, the fiery warmth spreading through my throat and into my chest. I poured another, the cool decanter in my hands, a stark contrast to the heat that surged within.
Taking the glass, I sat, placing the drink on the table. My sight drifted to the space Grace held in the garden moments before.
Mamá made her way inside, her fists full of white, red, and purple flowers—a perfect bouquet.
Javier shifted in his seat. "I'll move Grace to the new location."
Mamá stumbled, and I leaped from my chair, my feet moving at a speed I hadn't seen since I was a child, making it to her side to help her up the stairs. "Mamácita. You must be careful."
"Everyone stumbles now and then, Elias. If you keep fretting over me, you'll end up with more wrinkles than I ever will." Her laughter resonated a hearty sound that enveloped me in a wave of nostalgia.
"If I don't worry about you, then who will?"
She paused and glanced up at me. "Where's Grace? I turned my back for a moment, and then she was gone."
My teeth clenched, the muscles pulsing. "She's… sleeping, Mamá."
" Mmm ." She glanced around the yard, then pushed the flowers into my hand. "Sometimes, mi hijo, a gentle hand can grant a better response than a hard one."
I accepted the flowers before she walked away, refusing my help, the petals bobbing. I glanced at the shed, then back to Mamá as she gripped the railing up the wide steps and went inside.
A gentle hand?
In my world, that didn't exist.