Taina
DON’T FORGET THE TAX
As if PTSD wasn’t already a tricky bitch to handle, survivor’s guilt showed up to make it spicy.
Paloma still hasn’t been found, and I keep seeing her following me down the hall toward her death every time I try to fall asleep. So now I just don’t sleep.
Rather than call Dr. Do As I Say, Not As I Do, I asked Emiliano to take me with him when his uncle requested his presence the day after Carlos tried to kill us all. Which worked out well since he then informed me that I was expected to be in attendance as well.
I would relate this to being called to the principal’s office. Except the principal knows fifty different ways to kill you and get away with it.
The flight over on the private jet wasn’t all that long, and when we landed, there were vehicles lined up for us with men carrying weapons flanking us on all sides.
I’d never been to México before this, so once we make it to his uncle’s compound, I’m itching to explore.
We leave our bags in the car, and I’m on high alert.
But Emiliano maintains physical contact with me the entire time, especially when we walk inside the house.
The large sunglasses I’m wearing hide my swollen and bruised face, but they make it harder to see.
Emiliano is in a short-sleeve button-down, shorts, and wears a baseball cap over his curls. I miss them, but I love the look.
Truthfully, I just love him.
There are more people inside; little kids running around who greet Emiliano, more scary-looking men, and what looks like people who take care of the home. One is wearing an apron, and the other chases after the children.
No one gives us any instructions, we just follow the men all through the massive house until we reach a large wooden door.
Behind us, there’s a balcony, and I can hear kids splashing and playing outside.
Before I can attempt to take a look, a man opens the door before stepping aside to let us all in.
As I pass, I notice the Puerto Rican flag on his neck.
My people, all the way out here?
“What’s up, man?” He greets Emiliano with a smile, holding out his hand before they clasp one another’s and do some type of bro hug.
“Just following order,” he answers, his left hand holding my right one. “This is Taina.” He pulls me closer, and the man he’s speaking to tilts his chin in greeting.
“Abel,” he says, much more indifferent to me than he was to Emiliano.
Rather than ask him about his tattoo, I back up with a nod. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I don’t want to talk to his ass either.
I gather the skirt of my yellow sundress, and remind myself that I’m not going to die here.
Probably.
We walk further down, to the opposite end of the room, where we see who I can only assume is El Jefe . While they’d been able to see us walk in, we hadn’t seen them. Abel leads the way, and it’s then that I notice the stunning blonde standing next to the “unconfirmed Guillermo.”
Her blue eyes scan me, as if she’s trying to calculate something. My height? My credit score?
Either way, her long hair is braided down her back, and when Abel leans in to say something to her, she grabs his face and kisses him.
“ ?Bienvenidos! ” a voice booms out, and I tear my gaze away from that fine-ass couple to see it was “potential El Jefe ” who greeted us.
“Emiliano, I have to extend an invite for you to come see me? Remember how much you loved my pool? Now you’re too grown up to visit me, eh?
” His voice sounds hoarse with age, but he appears a lot more jovial than I thought he would.
I’m not sure why, maybe it’s because he’s likely had to kill a lot of people to get here.
“I have to put that expensive degree to work,” Emiliano answers, running his thumb over the back of my hand.
As if he notices, El Jefe focuses his attention on me. “You’re the one who killed little Carlito?” He barks the question out, the jowls around his face moving with the motion. “The boy was just here with that sneaky little wife of his.”
We’re still looking for that bitch too.
“I did,” I answer, not really aware of what I’m supposed to say or do next.
“Why?” he inquires, and I glance over at Emiliano, who nods.
I bring my attention back to El Jefe . “He paid my parents to brutally rape me for three days. I was waiting for the perfect chance to kill him, and then I met Emiliano. I knew at some point it would all come to a head, I just wasn’t sure when or how.”
“Filthy behavior,” he mutters, spitting at his feet. He grunts as he sits forward. “But he was my nephew. And you killed him.”
I nod to confirm again.
If he’s pissed that I shot his pervert of a nephew in the head, pleading for my life isn’t going to make it any better.
“ Espinita ,” he calls out, smiling when the blonde begins to walk over. “This is my Rose. She decides who lives and who dies.”
She’s lithe, almost like a snake, as she cuts in front of him to approach me.
Wordlessly, she removes my sunglasses, staring into my eyes before her gaze roves over my neck and shoulders, down my entire body.
She holds out my sunglasses, and I take them, careful not to touch her. I want no problems with this woman.
I’m beginning to wonder if she speaks at all when she finds her voice.
“Even if I couldn’t see her marks, trauma knows trauma,” she murmurs, circling Emiliano and I before stopping in front of El Jefe again.
“Don’t get sentimental now,” he muses, and I swear she snarls as she whips her head to look at him.
“I’ve done far worse for far less.” With that, she returns her gaze to mine and leans in, close enough where only the two of us can hear her. “If you make me regret this decision, I will kill you and anyone who questions your disappearance.”
Her matter-of-fact delivery oozes sincerity. I know what it looks like when I woman is not to be fucked with. I own a mirror, after all.
“Deal,” I respond, noticing the slight hint of a smile she snuffs out as she walks back to Abel. And if this is how she handles shit, I completely understand Abel not wanting to say more than two words to me.
You’ve got it, sir. Thanks for looking out for the both of us.
“But…” she starts as she lowers herself onto his lap, placing her hand on top of his head in a quasi-embrace, “you two will be married by this time next year. And Guillermo will officiate. ”
El Jefe claps his hands together, delighted by the idea. Everyone speaks over one another and somehow cigars are now being passed around. One ends up in Emiliano’s hand that he tucks into the space between his head and his hat.
While I love how excited they are, I glance at Rose, who tips her chin in my direction before turning her head to speak to Abel.
There’s no fear in his eyes, merely reverence. She runs her fingers down his cheek as they share a tender moment.
Self-conscious of my own face, I try to shove my sunglasses back on, and Emiliano reaches out to help me adjust them so they aren’t crooked. He leans down to kiss my cheek, and all of the chaos has my mind crowded with different thoughts and emotions.
Fear that I may not be a good wife, excitement at the idea of finally belonging to people who give a shit about me, and exhaustion from the events of the last few days.
“This is not how I wanted to marry you,” he murmurs, placing his hand on the uninjured side of my face before tucking a loose curl behind my ear.
“How long have you known you wanted to marry me?” I ask, my question little more than a whisper.
“Maybe when I paid twelve dollars for your ice cream,” he muses, reaching for my hand again. It’s a reminder that we’re in this life together.
“Don’t forget the tax,” I point out, inhaling to try to ground myself.
Taina Pineros.
Okay.