Chapter 13
thirteen
Matias
I wish someone had told me that being on top of the world meant carrying its weight on my shoulders.
A warning—that no matter how high I’d climb, I’d just end up looking for the next ascent. Although…I’m not where there is left to go.
The teenage version of me would’ve been in awe of the sight before me.
Los Angeles, sprawled out miles down the valley, the setting sun glinting off glass skyscrapers, dappling the sky in a cloudless pink-purple hue.
An errant breeze moves through the hills, rustling the carefully manicured grass installed in my modern mansion.
Fake grass, of course.
Fake like everything else around me.
It’s all fake, except her.
I take another sip of my tequila, tapping the crystal glass before sitting on the patio chair once again. The chair is all straight lines and supple cream fabrics—probably cost what a normal person pays for a mortgage.
It matches the rest of the house.
The photos on the low table in front of me threaten to rustle off into the breeze, and if I was a smart man, I’d let them. But I can’t stop looking at them. I can’t stop looking at the way she looks in them.
Happy. Genuine.
In love.
With some fucking city cop.
I swipe one of the photos Santos’ scout took of her outside the station. Hating how different she looks. Hair short and sleek, dark as night. And a blinding smile on her face as she caresses another man’s face.
My Florecita bloomed, alright. Just not with me.
And well, this burn in my veins is probably the least I deserve, after the way everything ended. That’s what the rational part of my brain says.
But the other part…
I throw the pictures down and down my drink before the darkness swirling in my stomach compels me to put a hit on the guy.
“Hey, asshole.”
I still, turning to catch Santos’ silhouette move through the glass facade of my house. The setting sun washes over the windows, drenching it in shades of orange-gold, so I’m not ready when he throws my phone at my head.
“I’ve been calling you.”
“I didn’t have my phone on me.” I don’t bother pretending to hide the photos in front of me. It’ll just make everything look worse.
“You’re a drug dealer. You have like, four fucking phones. Answer one of them, will you?”
Santos drops into the seat across from me, looking at the spread before us. “Oh, Jesus. Are you fucking drinking tequila?”
“I’m relaxing after a hard day at work. Bitch.”
He snorts. “You want me to play you some corridos, so you can howl at the moon about her kissing another man?”
I glare at him. “You shouldn’t have sent those scouts after her.” It wasn’t my idea. In fact, I’ve been trying to learn as little about her life as possible.
“Why not? She made a good proposition. We should take her up on it.”
I hold up the pictures, the one where Natalia stands in front of the police station with the LAPD emblem behind her.
“You still think that’s a good idea, dumbass? She’s with the cops.”
He rolls his eyes. “She’s dating a cop. If she was with the cops, we’d both be in jail right now. She’s been silent for four years, Matias. If she wanted to turn on you for breaking her heart, she would have.”
It’s true, but it still doesn’t lift my mood. “I already told you, I’m not letting her run my numbers. And I don’t like you doing this shit behind my back. If it were anyone else, I’d shoot you.”
My best friend holds his hands up. “Save the threats for someone who actually gives a fuck. I’m here—because I just finished moving a shipment for the third time this month. Do you know how much fucking work it takes every time one of our warehouses gets burned?”
“I was there when the sun came up, moving crates.” I roll out my shoulder, ignoring the twinge that comes from moving too fast, for too long.
“Great. So you know we have a leaky ship.”
I groan. “If you’re here to tell me you think Westfall is the leak?—”
“I don’t care who it is. It’s happening on his watch. He’s supposed to be our eyes. And right now that little fucker is leading us in the blind. Something has to change, Matias.” Santos leans back in his seat, staring at the skyline and shaking his head. “Someone was scouting the Hold today.”
I freeze.
The Hold, our nickname for the undisclosed location we use to keep Reynaldo’s last score. Millions in drugs and contraband, that we’ve been too cautious to move. Ever since his empire tumbled, and he died, every law enforcement agency’s sights has been on us.
We’re too popular to move that much product right now. But sitting on it feels like the biggest burden on this godforsaken marble.
“A cop?”
Santos shakes his head. “No. Rival scout. Toledo made clean work of him. But it’s only a matter of time…” Before someone else finds it, and all hell breaks loose.
“I know.”
“So why aren’t you doing anything about it?”
“I’m trying.” I tell him, my eyes burning from the sleepless nights. From going to bed late and waking before the sun rises. “It’s not easy to find a leak with this many men. We’re too big. I don’t know half these men, Santos.”
“A bunch of them joined when Hernandez went to prison. Right?”
I nod, pouring myself another shot, even though the booze is making my shirt stick to my back.
“Natalia grew up with all of those fuckers. We know our guys. She knew her father’s men. Between the both of you, we can sniff out who’s rotten in the mix. Put her in with Westfall and have her keep watch.”
“Oh, that easy, huh?”
My friend narrows his eyes at me. “Well, it’s better than what you have. Which is a big, fat, nothing. Pendejo.”
I scrub my face, briefly thinking about it.
It’s not a terrible idea. And that’s why it’s dangerous.
Natalia was always quiet. Cautious. Watchful. It makes her perfect for what Santos is suggesting, and I hate it.
I sigh. “Santos…she almost died last time.” That what I keep telling myself, when I drive past her apartment, dying to knock after a hard night.
It’s what I told myself after I rescued her from Reynaldo’s kill squad and tucked her into bed, lingering long enough to memorize the shape of her button nose and pretty lips.
I can live with my choices if I know she’s alive somewhere. I’m not sure I can say the same if I’m in a world and she’s not in it.
“Alright, I get it. She’s the love of your life, blah-blah-blah.
” I glare at him. “But she doesn’t have to be in this forever.
You can…pretend you two are back together if anyone on the streets asks.
In the meantime, she observes, reports, and when we catch the rat, we can load her up with money and send her on her merry way. ”
I pinch my nose, ignoring the skitter of excitement in my spine when Santos uttered the words ‘back together’.
“Just…think about it.” He says, tapping my leg.
“No.” I say, sounding unsure to my own ears.
Santos is my best friend, knows me better than anyone else.
And by the smile he gives me, he knows I’m full of shit.
I’ve done well in this line of work because I don’t get distracted.
All of my opponents thus far circle a little too close to their vices.
Some love drugs, others women, money…I’m okay with all of those ebbing and flowing.
I like the power. Control. The way people stand straight when I walk into a room.
But you put me in a room with Natalia…suddenly, I’m a simple mortal in a world full of vices.