Emiliano
BACK IN BLOOD
I’m expected to wear a suit nearly every day of my life. Typically only Saturdays afford me the opportunity to wear whatever I’d like, even though I’ve been known to work weekends as well.
But the only creativity I’m allowed when in suits are my shoes, belts, and ties. So when I show up in a bolo tie, cowboy boots, and with a large belt buckle on display, one of my colleagues raises his brows from where he’s leaned against the breakroom door.
“Going full Mexican today, hombre ?” An unseasoned reaction from a man whose culture includes NASCAR and brutal colonization.
Todd laughs at his joke, which is no doubt as bland as his mother’s chicken, not knowing my brother would have his tongue removed and leave him to choke on his own blood for his microaggressions.
“Tell the partners to increase your salary and perhaps you’d be able to afford to look this good as well,” I toss out, glad I left my tejana in the car. Stupid gringo .
Todd doesn’t respond as I head toward my office, opting to flirt to with one of our paralegals instead .
Yeah, do something safer, motherfucker.
I open my office door and walk behind my desk, setting my things on its streak-free glass surface.
My assistant walks in, giving me a brief rundown of the day, and I pinch the bridge of my nose when she informs one of my most demanding clients will be in today.
He technically isn’t my client, he’s one of the firm’s partners’ clients. But I’ve worked closely with him on a few of his contracts and he knows my family.
And we all know what it means to know my family .
“Word is he’s having a birthday soiree and would like to invite his legal team,” Meena murmurs, looking over her tablet for any more notes to share before peering up at me again.
“Because who doesn’t want to look powerful on their big day?” I mutter before I’m able to catch myself, and I close my eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry, I’m just…exhausted.”
She offers a small smile with a nod, resting the tablet against her hip. “Coffee?”
“Only if you’re having some,” I respond as I sit with a huff, opening the button of my suit jacket. “And if there are any meetings you can push, I’ll double your Christmas bonus.”
Meena grins with a shake of her head, her light-brown hair in a braid that rests against her spine and stops between her shoulder blades. “Consider it done, boss.”
“Light creamer, two—” I start as I being to type in my password on my computer.
“Two packets of sugar,” she finishes, and I look to see her pressing her lips together. “I’ve been here for over a year, Mr. Pineros.” She turns to leave with a whisper of a smile, and her heels tap on the marble floor as she walks away.
Meena is efficient and known for being mean as fuck to men. It’s one of my favorite things about her, watching these perverted fucks try to prey on her and witnessing them tuck their tails between their legs when she tells them to drink bleach.
And she can do that.
She’s the daughter of one of the partners. It’s amazing that she even takes her position as seriously as she does.
She and I have nepotism in common, except mine is on the illegal side.
And the only people who know are the partners, including Meena’s father. They’ve been made aware that if they don’t look the other way, we’d send them back their eyeballs in the mail.
Not the way I’d handle things, but a life of crime has never been something I aspired to experience.
I wasn’t born to be an heir to the cartel throne. Almost as if my father knew my talents—even as a child—I was raised to maintain an empire. Ignacio starts the fires, and I put them out.
He reached out earlier to notify me in a group chat with our brother Carlos that we have a meeting today.
The capos are here. I expect both of you at the meeting at 4:00.
I sent a text back acknowledging and confirming my attendance.
In spite of Carlos’s silence, he’s aware his presence is now mandatory.
Before our father died, Carlos was removed from his role as jefe de sicarios , having made an egregious mistake that could’ve cost us everything, had I not been resourceful.
But when Ignacio took over, he was granted a clean slate, so long as he followed orders.
Because Ignacio’s word is law.
And my sector of the family business requires me to button up, schmooze, and study my ass off.
So I take a nice deep inhale as I prepare for lots of that today.
It isn’t often that my mother visits me for lunch. But when she calls, I answer.
The woman in question, wearing a pristine Chanel suit, clears her throat before taking a sip of her sparkling water.
Her eyes move over the room, never stopping on one thing for more than a moment.
Just past her, against the wall, is her security guard, Fernando.
Serious looking and in a dark suit with his eyes moving similarly to hers.
These are the moments when I wonder what we look like to outsiders. Civilians.
“How are you feeling today, Mami ?” I ask, knowing the answer will always be the same.
I’m well, mijo .
“I think I’d like a horse,” she announces, and my grip on my fork slips, causing the cutlery to clatter against the expensive tableware.
Only I notice the steel in her eyes at the idea of us drawing attention to ourselves. She brings her linen napkin to the corners of her mouth, dabbing at them before smiling at someone behind me who’s no doubt looking our way.
“ Lo siento ,” I start, but she shakes her head, focusing on me once more.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” She shrugs, setting her napkin back on her lap. “I was wondering if you’d see if Papo could find one for me. I’d like a mild-mannered horse, older. Perhaps a mare, but if not, a yearling will suffice. I don’t care about physical traits.”
Every word she says curls with her accent, and I grin with a nod. I have distant memories of her riding horses with Papi at dusk while the nanny got us ready for bed.
Those were the nights she’d come into my room when she thought I was asleep and press a kiss to my forehead.
As I got older, I understood. Sometimes we think love is our greatest weakness. My mother, who’d been groomed for this life, refuses to show affection in obvious ways. No hugs, tenderness, kind words.
Lunch, complaining to me about her daughter-in-law, and sitting together in church are her ways of showing me her love.
Ignacio is too busy to spend real time with her, and Carlos has his wife and whatever else our older brother tasks him with. I’ll bet busy work to keep his ass out of trouble.
“I’m sure Papo will be honored to help,” I tell her, knowing I’ll be there to make sure the horse in question is perfect for her.
She looks up at me, the ends of her mouth lifting until she’s smiling. A gift.
“Tell his father I still have some of Oswaldo’s things for him,” she muses, her eyes growing distant as she slips into fond memories.
His father used to work with Papi’s horses and that’s how we all connected. I was twelve, trying to keep up with him, an adventurous kid who had a lot more freedom than I ever did.
Sometimes it’d land me in trouble, my ear pinched between my father’s thumb and index finger as he yanked me back home.
Most of the time, it was everything I was missing in my childhood.
“Ignacio tells me you boys will be by the house later on?” she inquires, using her fork to move her food around, not eating much.
Papi used to joke that she eats like a bird, but the answer is far more intricate.
I watched as every year she donned her wedding dress, just to proudly announce that it still fits.
She wanted to watch her figure, to hold up her end of the bargain struck by two powerful men: her brother, Guillermo, and her husband, Oswaldo.
Now that he’s gone, I guess it’s habit.
“That’s the plan,” I confirm, hesitant to share more, knowing Papi wouldn’t like us talking to her—or even around her—about these kinds of things.
“ ?Y Carlos tambien? ”
“ Creo que si, ” is all I can say. So far he’s had the good sense to show whenever he’s summoned. Albeit with a bitch-ass attitude, but that’s Carlos.
“I don’t know what to do about him,” she says as she sets down her fork, her diamond tennis bracelet winking under the sunlight coming through the windows.
“I don’t think this life is suited for him.
” Lines mar her forehead, her dark hair with silver threaded amongst the strands pulled back from her face.
She’s so hard to read sometimes.
“He’s going to learn, Mami ,” I start, but she’s already shaking her head, her spine straightening as if she’s preparing herself to say what’s coming next.
“Either that, or he’s going to get himself or one of us killed.”
I don’t want to give power to the notion, my stomach bottoming out at the thought. I would die, kill, take from anyone to keep my family safe. Even Carlos’s stupid ass.
“Ma…” I lean forward, my elbows on the table, which draws her stare to them. Without second thought, I sit up, removing them from the tabletop.
“ Más sabe el diablo por viejo que por diablo ,” she reminds me, gathering her purse and setting the linen napkin on the table.
And because Mami always has the final word, lunch is over.
Once outside with her purse in hand, I lead her to her armored vehicle, her security guard trailing behind us. With my hand on her back, I can feel the slight hunch of age. Like death is trying to yank her closer toward her grave.
Not on my fucking watch.
Her driver has her door open, a smile on his face even though he likely won’t get one in return.
We’re nearly at her car when an older man approaches, his pronounced limp making him more noticeable. He hobbles over, far quicker than I could anticipate, and once he lifts his arm to point his finger in my mother’s direction, I know this man is going to die.
“ Puta! You killed my son!” He yells his last words with as much might as he can muster from his unsteady frame.
He moves to spit on her, but I shove her behind me, pissed that I didn’t knock his ass to the ground the moment he was in arm’s reach. Fernando tries to grab the man, but I instruct him to get Mami into her car. There’s no telling if anyone came with him.
I’ve always believed that if I’m going to do something criminal in public, I’m going to make sure I’m not the one starting it. But I’ll always be the one who ends it.
His spit is now on my pristine suit jacket, and I yank him up by his shirt, furious. With a swift punch to his temple, he’s out cold. I’m still holding him up, now by his arm as he sways.
I glance over, and Mami’s eyes meet mine as she slides into the back seat of her car safely, and I know what’s expected of me.
The same message we send to the families of people who disrespect Carmen Pineros.
Fernando shuts her inside and stands off to the side, giving me the space to handle this while making sure I don’t need assistance.
“Pop the trunk,” I tell her driver as I thump my fist on the back of the car. A moment later, I hear the release, and I shove his limp body into the trunk before shutting it. I straighten, yank my silk kerchief from my breast pocket, and wipe away his spit.
?Chale!
When I walk to the driver’s side of the car, he rolls down the window and looks up at me. I’ve known this man for so long, I damn near consider him an uncle. But the man who saw me in diapers now helps me kill men who disrespect Mami .
“ Vete a la casa . I’ll be back for him tonight.”
“Should I tell your brothers?” His eyes shift around before landing on me again.
Emiliano keeps his hands clean.
I can nearly hear Papi say it to anyone who tried to talk business to me.
If only he could see me now. Things are different with Ignacio in charge. Everyone gets dirty.
“ Tú sabes la respuesta , güey. ” I give him a nod before turning away.
He who witnesses the disrespect handles it. Mami expects me to get respect back in blood. She never cared about keeping me out of the family business.
It’s all she’s known, after all.
Mami’s security guard gets in the front seat, and I breathe a little easier.
The backs of my knuckles rap against her tinted window as I walk past to go back inside the restaurant.
After I remind the owners and their staff that nothing happened here, with a $10,000 check for their troubles, I have to locate this man’s family. Which requires me to painfully extract the information from him.
I remove my suit jacket and toss it in my back seat before rolling up the sleeves of my black shirt. The sun doesn’t take pity on me as I get in my car, hissing at the hot-as-fuck seats .
Jesucristo.
I shoot Meena a text letting her know I won’t be back in the office. While in traffic headed back to the house, I stretch my neck and roll my shoulders.
Fuck.
It’s going to be a long night.
I should at least grab a fucking energy drink.