Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Liliana
“Neither of you leave this building,” Em said gruffly before dipping his face lower and kissing Isabella. “You’re a stubborn woman.”
“Sí, jefe. Married to a stubborn man.”
Nick’s stare focused on me, his jaw clenched, and the muscles pulling tight in his cheeks, wordlessly giving me the same warning Em had articulated.
“Sí,” I said quietly. “What about the club tonight?”
“We’ll talk to el Patrón. You should know what to tell the whores soon enough,” Em replied.
Nick spoke. “And then you can inform the residents.”
They both turned and stomped away, disappearing from my office. I wasn’t certain that anyone else noticed Nick’s classification of the women residing in these apartments, but I did. Despite the obvious danger, his choice of one word made me smile.
Izzy’s voice brought me back to present. “Did Mia invite you to stay with her and el Patrón?”
“She did.” My thoughts were with another invitation, the one from the man who just left our presence. I walked to the window and watched as Em’s and Nick’s cars drove away. I turned back to Izzy. “Horace is still here, right?”
“Oh yes.”
“I need to let Reina and Celeste know we’re on lockdown.”
“I already did. Day passes were revoked. We have two residents out, but they’ve been summoned to return.”
“Out. Where?”
“Shopping, I believe. Martina and Darya applied for the day pass over a week ago.”
I pictured the two women as they appeared when not at Wanderland. No one should be able to connect them to the Roríguez cartel. “I’ll feel better when they’re back.”
Izzy sat in the chair near my desk. “I don’t think el Patrón will close Wanderland. Remember last time?”
Moving to my desk chair, I sat and turned her way. “I remember. We were on lockdown. It was your wedding night.”
Pink bloomed on Izzy’s cheeks. “It was.”
“Maybe history could repeat itself.”
Her blue eyes opened wide. “What do you mean?”
Shaking my head, I tried to find the right words. “Nick. Umm. He had an idea.”
“What kind of idea?”
“It’s crazy.” It was then I spotted our unfinished lunch and changed the subject. “Have you eaten?”
“I had a salad from the dining room.”
Pushing back my chair, I walked to the small table against the wall. “Viviana sent this food. Either we should eat it or put it in the refrigerator.”
“Oh, Viviana, Mia’s cook?” Izzy said, standing and coming closer. “When I lived there, I swear I gained ten pounds.”
I scanned her petite and shapely figure. “You didn’t gain ten pounds.”
“Do you know she makes her own chipotle mayonnaise? Lola, Valentina’s cook, is amazing, too.” She hummed. “But Viviana is world class.” Izzy picked up a knife and cut off part of Nick’s roast beef torta. “I’ll have a bite.”
As Izzy ate, I thought about my father’s assessment and Nick’s about women eating. “Do you eat in front of Emiliano?”
Swallowing, she laughed. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”
“My mother hardly ate a bite in front of my father. She’d serve herself a miniscule portion and pick at it. Later in the kitchen, she’d eat.”
Izzy scrunched her nose. “That’s silly. My mom never did that.”
“It’s true, our parents can really screw us up.”
“Valentina isn’t shy about eating in front of Andrés. El Patrón didn’t always come to dinner when I lived with Mia, but his presence didn’t make a difference in her eating.”
“You’re right. When I was over there a couple weeks ago, he wanted her to eat and keep it down.”
“Morning sickness sounds horrible,” Izzy said, dropping a strawberry into her mouth.
“Senoras Ruiz,” Horace said, turning our attention to the doorway. “Please come with me.”
“What’s happening?” Izzy asked.
“Our security picked up intruders at the perimeter of the property. I want to take the two of you to a safer location.”
I was the one to speak. “Em told us to stay here.”
“Sí, senoras. Safer here. Hurry.”
Izzy hurried to her office. My hands trembled as I opened my desk drawer for my purse. It wasn’t there. Then I recalled leaving it in the apartment unit where I’d spent the night. Instead, I grabbed my phone and caught up to Izzy and Horace in the hallway.
“Where are Celeste and Reina?” I asked.
“On their way to the shelter,” Horace replied.
The shelter was a windowless lecture hall near the back of the building.
Before the structure was converted to the apartments, the room was a storm shelter with extra-thick cement walls and only two entrances/exits.
Now it was tiered with rows of chairs and tables, the biggest classroom on the premises.
Izzy reached for my hand as we followed Horace through the eerily empty hallways. “Is this necessary?”
The answer came as the hallway went dark, and the sound of gunshots reverberated from a distance.
“Sí, es,” he said.
The darkness gave way to the strobing effect of the emergency lighting. Horace’s attention was everywhere as he unholstered his gun. Shrill alarms accompanied the flickering lights.
“Back to the offices,” he shouted over the alarms.
“The women,” I said. “They have to be frightened.”
“Now,” he ordered.
He led the way we’d come. Once inside the office suite, he took us beyond my office and Izzy’s, to Mia’s office. “Go in the bathroom and lock the door.”
The bathroom?
“We’ll stop the intruders,” he said confidently. “If we don’t, we’ll convince them that everyone present is in the shelter. Stay in here until I come for you or one of the lieutenants does.”
Izzy stepped through the doorway and offered me her hand. “Come on, Liliana.”
My feet wouldn’t move.
“Liliana.”
“No. I should be with the women. That’s why I stayed.”
“Come on,” she demanded.
“You stay. Em doesn’t want anything to happen to you.” I turned to Horace. “No one will miss me if anything happens. I’m not agreeing to using the women as decoys. I need to get to them—now.” When he narrowed his gaze, I added, “Por favor.”
Horace clenched his jaw, his focus going to Isabella. “Senora Ruiz, stay here and lock the door.”
Izzy nodded, taking a step back.
I hugged Izzy. “You’ll be safe.”
“I’d miss you.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and followed Horace. “Stay close behind me,” Horace instructed.
“Sí.”
He locked Mia’s office and then locked the main door to the office suite.
We were past the library and nearing the lecture hall when the emergency lighting cut out, leaving us in total—thicker than ink—darkness.
The squealing alarms stopped. Even in the silence, my ears rang with the now-absent squeal.
I reached out, trying to locate Horace. My fingers grazed his suit coat.
He reached for my hand. “Just a little farther, senora.”
“Where are our guards?”
“Hopefully, keeping the intruders outside.”
At the back entrance to the lecture hall, Horace used his badge to open the door.
“It was locked?” I asked. “What if there’s a fire?”
“The lock keeps people out.”
“And people in,” I added. I reached for my badge. Shit. It was in my purse. “I need a badge.”
“Where’s yours?”
“In my purse in apartment 17.”
Horace handed me his badge. “Lock the door from the inside.”
“Thank you.”
A chorus of hushes filled my ears as I opened the door and stepped inside. “I’m Liliana,” I called out to the darkness.
Voices I recognized came from all directions. I imagined the layout of the room. Some voices were coming from above and some at my level. “Shh. Listen. We’re safe in here. I have a key to get us out. First, we need to give our guards time to do their job.”
“Cabez?n’s men?” The question came from the darkness.
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “Where is everyone?” Again, voices came from all around the large room. “Please, come down here, near the lectern.”
It wasn’t possible for one’s eyes to adjust in the total absence of light.
Instead, other senses took over. Hearing became more acute.
The ability to sense the warmth of another person and the scents of soap, lotions, and perfumes became distinguishable.
Shoes scuffed against the vinyl flooring as the ladies made their way to the front of the room.
“Can we all hold hands?” I asked, reaching out for someone’s touch. I waited a minute. “Is there anyone not holding someone’s hand?”
No one replied.
“I’ll start. Let’s reassure our friends that we’re safe. I’m Liliana Ruiz. I’m safe.”
I squeezed the woman’s hand to my right.
“Yo soy Maria. Estoy segura.”
“Yo soy Sara. Estoy segura.”
“Yo soy Julia. Estoy segura.”
“Yo soy Celeste. Estoy segura.”
The announcements continued, each woman sounding more and more confident. After the last statement, we accounted for fifty-four of the fifty-six residents.
“Donde estan Martina y Darya?” a familiar voice asked.
“Shopping,” a voice I recognized as Reina’s said. “I sent them a text telling them to return before Javier made us all come here.”
I hoped they didn’t get the text. I didn’t want them coming back to whatever was happening outside.