26. Hope
26
HOPE
A knock at my bedroom door startled me from the Love Is Blind marathon I’d zoned out to.
Jorge hadn’t returned from whatever errand he’d left for yesterday morning. And Sergio, my buffoon of a guard, wouldn’t let me visit the library, walk the gardens, or leave my room for any reason at all.
I’d even threatened that I’d have his entire family murdered if he didn’t allow me to visit my father, figuring that level of viciousness was appropriate for Carlos Espinoza’s daughter. Except Sergio had gone and told me he didn’t have any relatives to be murdered, because he was one of the orphans all grown up, and that now the cartel was his family. Then I’d felt sorry for him and like a bit of a bitch. The whole intimidation attempt had backfired spectacularly.
Sergio entered my room and hooked his thumbs under his belt. “El patrón ya regresó. Dijo que bajaras para la comida.” The boss is back. He says you’re to come down for dinner.
I couldn’t really complain about my treatment so far. Food had been brought to my room three times a day, and I’d been given a bunch of Gabriela’s pretty dresses from before she was pregnant.
Whenever I could, I met with Jorge’s wife on our respective balconies and talked. She detailed everything she could about the compound—what she knew of the layout, the underground tunnels, guard movements, and secret passageways. Disturbingly, there was one of the latter between Jorge’s room and mine, but despite combing the adjoining wall in my closet for a concealed door, I’d been unable to find it. Perhaps it only opened from the other side.
Gabi and I also spoke about our lives. I learned she’d been close to her family and missed them terribly. She told me how as a young girl, she’d loved sports and dancing, and that her childhood bedroom had been filled with dolls made lovingly by her abuela. She’d shared her teenage dream of becoming a travel agent in Guadalajara even though she’d never left Mexico.
Hearing what a vibrant, carefree girl she’d been before Jorge had forced her into this sham of a marriage hurt my heart and only made me more determined to make sure she got out of here alive.
I tugged at the mid-thigh hem of the stretchy rib-knit dress I wore and followed Sergio down the stairs to the central courtyard. The sun had almost set, casting the sky in a warm glow. Recessed lights in the terra-cotta paving guided the path to a large dining table beside the swimming pool.
Halfway down the table, Gabi offered me a tight-lipped smile before dropping her gaze. At the far end, Carlos sat stoic, his wilting body present, but his mind seemingly somewhere else. And at the head of the table sat Jorge, his eyes like needles in my skin as he watched me approach. He wore a smirk sinister enough to make the devil himself curious what evil thoughts circled this twisted bastard’s mind .
“Here she is. The prodigal daughter.” Jorge gestured to the seat on his right, the one opposite Gabi. “Sit.”
Servers delivered our first course: a bowl of creamy corn soup. Carlos spooned it into his mouth robotically, and Gabi stirred hers while staring into the bowl.
“Isn’t it nice that we can share a family meal together?” Jorge said, then tasted the soup.
No one replied, but it didn’t appear to bother him. Jorge’s pleasant mood only made my skin prickle with unease. If he’d checked security footage, he would know Gabi and I had spent time together. Did he suspect that we were up to something?
“It’s good to be home after the troubles I’ve had to deal with.” Jorge sighed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Elena, would you like to know where I’ve been?”
“Not really.” Keeping my eyes on the spoon, I tried the soup. Tasty, but I’d lost my appetite.
Ignoring my comment, Jorge plowed ahead. “I had to meet with my men about a problem they’re having in a small fishing village in the south.”
I paused with the spoon halfway to my mouth, then realized my mistake and continued to swallow the mouthful. “Sucks to be boss.”
He had to be talking about Playa de la Palmera. I hadn’t expected Jorge’s men to involve him so soon. The regions preferred to handle their own issues lest they look inept to their superiors. Calling in support from the boss was a last resort.
“Sometimes.” The quick smile Jorge made didn’t reach his eyes. “It seems a grievance with some of the locals has gotten out of hand, and now the army has swarmed the village. It all started in a restaurant with a smart-mouthed waitress. Mid-twenties, curvy”—he tapped his cheek—“burn scars on her face.”
I could lie and act like I wasn’t the girl Jorge spoke of, but there was no way he’d buy it. Besides, he’d find a way to confirm the truth soon enough. I had to think fast.
I placed the spoon in the bowl and prayed Jorge didn’t notice my shaking hand. Then I turned to face him. “I suppose I wasn’t completely honest about why I chose to come home now. One night at work, I got into some trouble with PCC thugs. I didn’t think they’d believe me if I told them who I really am. It wasn’t safe for me to stay in the village anymore, so I ran.”
He lowered his chin. “Four of my men were badly injured.”
“They were being dicks and got what they deserved.”
“But you didn’t act alone, did you? They said a man stepped in to help you. Big guy. Tattoos. Mean looking. Who is he?”
At Jorge’s description, Vaughn’s face filled my mind. Those espresso eyes, sharp cheekbones, and full lips. I could almost feel them moving against my mouth, firm yet pliant, as his stubble-coated jaw left its mark on my skin. And Vaughn’s hands, those strong, capable hands, pulling me closer, always closer, as if having our bodies pressed together weren’t near enough. I swore I could smell him. Cigarettes, leather, and something that was uniquely Vaughn.
God, I missed him.
It took all my strength to stop moisture from pooling in my eyes.
Vaughn was the last person I wanted on Jorge’s radar. If he started asking around, who knew what he’d find? Maybe he’d discover Vaughn’s link to la Mano Roja. Then what? All I knew was being associated with me only brought suffering and death. I needed to keep Vaughn out of this.
Maintaining a nonchalant expression, I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just some customer who got caught up in the situation when your men tried to intimidate me.”
“One against four?” Jorge cast me a dubious look before bracing his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. “But that’s not all, is it? A few days ago, six of my experienced crew returned to the restaurant to confront you and the mystery man. They were never seen again.”
I lifted my chin. “Sounds like you need to train your men better.”
“And now, you are here, the army is protecting the village, and no one can tell me a thing about this man who is single-handedly making a mockery of my cartel. Something unusual is going on.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed.
“Why are you really here, Elena?”
“I told you. I decided it wasn’t worth sticking around for your men to kill me. Where else would I go?” I narrowed my eyes. “Are you doubting my loyalty?”
He slammed his fist on the table, rattling the crockery and making Gabi and me jump. “That’s exactly what I’m doing!”
The awkward silence that followed was broken by Carlos—somehow undisturbed by Jorge’s outburst—slurping soup from his spoon.
Slowly, I placed my palms either side of my bowl. “What do you want from me, Jorge? What can I say to prove myself? Because you’re starting to sound as paranoid as Papi used to.”
“There’s nothing you could say to make me trust you. Loyalty isn’t demonstrated with words; it’s demonstrated with actions.” He pulled a pistol from his waistband and placed it on the table. “Kill her.” He jerked his chin toward Gabi.
A sharp breath escaped me, then my gaze darted between Jorge and his terrified wife. “What?”
“You heard me. Prove your loyalty to this family by killing the woman who stands in the way of you taking your rightful position.”
“You’re out of your?—”
Snatching the gun from the table, Jorge stood quickly and charged for me. He yanked me out of my seat and dragged me to where Gabi sat shaking. Jorge manhandled me so my back was flush with his chest and forced the pistol between my palms. His hands stayed wrapped around mine, fixing the weapon in place. Then he pushed me forward until the muzzle met Gabi’s temple.
She cried out and squeezed her lids shut.
Jorge’s hot breath assaulted my ear. “The safety is off, and it’s loaded. All you need to do is squeeze the trigger.”
“Jorge, please,” I begged. My legs turned to jelly. If it weren’t for Jorge’s painful grip on my hands, I’d fall.
“You want to prove your loyalty?” His tone took on a menacing edge. “Then do it. Murder this woman in cold blood like the narco queen you were always meant to be.”
Something inside my skull roared like a freight train. Or maybe it was just blood rushing through my veins. My hands shook violently. Cold sweat moistened my brow.
“What do you say, Gabriela? Do you choose death by this pistol or my way later?”
“It’s okay, Elena.” Gabi nodded. Her throat shifted as she swallowed with difficulty. “I forgive you. Just get it over with, please.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and my chest threatened to splinter.
“You should listen to my wife. Show her mercy. You know I won’t.”
I tried to back away, but Jorge held me in place. “You said you’d let her live until after the baby is born.”
“I lied. Just like you’ve been lying to me from the moment I picked you up. Now, put your finger on the trigger.”
“No,” I snarled through gritted teeth. “Killing Gabi proves nothing.”
Jorge’s hands tightened around mine with bone-crushing force. “Come on. I know you can do it. If this pistol were pointed at my head, you’d blow my brains out in a heartbeat.”
I wished I’d snatched up the gun when Jorge had first offered it to me, because he was right. I’d have turned it on him and fired without hesitation. But was it even loaded? Maybe it was empty and this was some fucked-up loyalty test I needed to pass. Pull the trigger, wait for the click of an empty chamber and Jorge’s laughter at the unspeakable horror he’d just inflicted upon us all for his own sick satisfaction.
But I wasn’t about to test my theory.
“You won’t do it?” Jorge wrenched the gun away and shoved me face-first onto the table. Glasses tipped over. My flailing hands knocked a bottle of wine to the floor, and it shattered. “Maybe there’s another way you can prove how committed you are to this family.” Then Jorge was on top of me, his body hot and heavy, holding me pinned beneath him. He kicked my feet wide. His erection dug into my rear. Disgusting .
“Get off me!” I fought to free myself, but it was no use. He was too strong.
One of Jorge’s hands clamped around my nape, ramming my cheek against the tablecloth. The other reached beneath my dress and yanked at my panties until they tore.
“Stop!” I yelled, but it was all I could get out. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.
No, no, no. I didn’t want this.
“Don’t worry,” Jorge said soothingly while I struggled beneath him. “I promised Don Carlos I won’t fuck you until our wedding night. This will have to do until then.”
Something cold and hard slid up the inside of my thigh. Oh my God. It was the pistol.
I bucked in earnest and cried out, “No!”
Jorge pressed his weight upon me harder. He licked the column of my neck, finishing at my ear. “The more you fight, the more this will hurt. But don’t jostle too much, or my trigger finger might slip.”
Higher and higher the pistol traveled up my inner thigh. When the cold muzzle pressed against my bare opening, I froze. A whimper escaped my throat. Stinging tears blurred my vision.
Just get through this . Live to fight another day so you can kill Jorge, then he’ll never be able to hurt anyone again.
“Get off her,” came a harsh voice from the end of the table.
Carlos.
With my face turned away, I couldn’t see my father, but his tone sounded utterly menacing.
Jorge stilled above me, then the pistol was gone from between my legs.
“It’s okay, Don Carlos.” Jorge chuckled, not sounding remotely innocent. “We were just having some fun.”
“I said get off her. Now!” Carlos barked.
Jorge backed away, and a relieved sob escaped me. I was left to pull myself from the table. My panties were in tatters on the floor. I tugged my dress down to cover my ass. Wiping tears from my cheeks, I faced my father.
He was back. The Carlos I remembered with the calculating stare that promised brutality to anyone who crossed him. And right now, his focus was solely on Jorge. His protégé.
I had no love for my father, but by God, I’d never been so happy he was here and of sound mind. How long would his lucidity last?
“Lenita,” Carlos said without taking his eyes from Jorge. “Go to your room. I will deal with this.”
“Okay, Papi.” Gabi and I shared a brief glance before I left the courtyard on shaking legs.