Chapter 2 #3
We sat in silence for the twenty-minute ride back into the city to his two-bedroom apartment, my hands were sweating with uncertainty for the future and the mixture of rage and fear colliding inside of me.
Ignacio, he’d taken everything from me.
It had only been a few days after I disposed of my mamá, and I was usually alone now.
Ronan was mostly out of the house aside from quick pop-ins to shower, change and sometimes sleep.
We were going through the motions but the weight in my chest told me if I didn’t open up my box of deceptions this would be the end of us.
The timing of it all didn’t help either.
Ronan and Santos had been working on the foundation for something big. Something that would make it so that we could stop the dozens of different illegal runs a week with minor payouts, and focus on one thing at a time – most likely guns.
I tried pushing the idea of moving weed, since the cártel almost always had a hand in any weapons traveling through the west coast. It was nearly impossible to make a case while trying to convey naivety and ignorance in the subject though. It was a fight I couldn’t win.
Weapons simply cashed out bigger, and money talked loudly.
I was sitting on our beat-up leather couch watching reruns on daytime television when Santos came bursting in through the door cheering and whooping.
“We made it big, Morena!” He danced into the room shouting and laughing. He squeezed me in a tight embrace, kissing my cheek as he lifted me off the floor.
“What happened? Where’s Ronan?” I looked out of the apartment door for him but couldn’t find him in sight.
“He’s moving the car out of the closed garage spot so we can hide the van.”
“The van?” I asked, not understanding what he was saying because we certainly did not have a van.
Before he could answer I was already making my way out of the door and running down the stairs to find Ronan pulling a black van into our closed garage parking spot. I waited for him to come out of the driver’s side with my arms crossed.
I knew I had no place for interrogations, so I waited for him to offer up information willingly.
“Santos' cousin Guillermo gave us a tip for a tradeoff that was guaranteed to go south. We set up and waited for them. Once the guns stopped going off, we took the van and high-tailed it out of there before the cops showed up. It’s gotta be at least a hundred thousand dollars in guns alone, I haven’t counted the cash in the briefcases yet.
” he said breathlessly, a giant smile painting his face as he opened the trunk to show me the loot.
He had this nervous look on his face like he was waiting for judgment, and I tried to feign the illusion of it but this was my world, and he was just now finally emerging into it.
If I was supposed to be shocked, I was probably failing at it.
That was, until the trunk opened, and I fought to push down the acid rising in the back of my throat.
I eyeballed the dozens of black gun cases with the five-petal flower crest on them.
“Maldita sea!” came out of my mouth before I could stop it, but he didn’t notice.
Ronan smiled widely at me, “This is the end of all of our troubles.” He lulled in my ear as he put his arm over my shoulder and I realized our expiration found us just as my papá had predicted, maybe just not how he planned.
Irolled out of bed at two in the morning, checking over to see Ronan was dead asleep next to me.
By the lack of video game sounds, I could bet that Santos was passed out as well from their celebrations earlier.
I pulled the duffle bag he normally used for cash and weed exchanges out of our closet and filled it with as much as I could with just the light of my phone.
I could only hope there were at least a couple of complete outfits inside.
I slid into the jeans with the four or five carats worth of diamonds in the pocket and left my phone on the kitchen counter.
Grabbing the van keys, I made my way into the garage, shoving the duffle bag into the trunk with the guns.
I took the money briefcases and made my way back into the apartment, pocketing a small stack of hundreds for the journey and placed the two briefcases next to my phone.
When I opened the door to leave, I heard Santos from the dark of the living room, “You’re gonna destroy him.”
But I didn’t answer, I couldn’t.
Without turning back, I ran to the van as fast as I could with my heart pounding in my ears.
Peeling out of the parking lot, I drove off in no planned direction.
I plugged my phone into the car’s sound system, drowning out my sorrow with music as I allowed my heart to break for the one real thing I ever had.
I drove a few hours before I found the perfect lake to drive the van into.
Putting the car in neutral and crawling out as fast as possible while I stood back with the duffle bag in my hand, I watched as it rolled into the water, sinking deep below the surface.
I sighed with relief when the last of the bubbles dissipated from the water, knowing Ronan wouldn’t be killed by my uncle for stealing and selling his weapons.
Everything that was Cártel property was branded and marked.
Once the weapons were sold it was just a matter of time before they circulated, and Ignacio would put feelers out to find their source.
It wouldn’t take long for him to trace them back to Santos and Ronan.
He would no doubt hate me until the day he died for this, but at least he wouldn’t die tomorrow.
I made my way to the country road and stuck my thumb out while I lazily paced towards the undecided future.