18. Alex
Chapter eighteen
Alex
I grab my keys, run out of the house, get into my new 4Runner, and start it up, peeling out of the driveway with a squeal. My heart is racing; I don’t know what to expect, and of course, she is at the beach, fifteen minutes from the base, when there is no traffic. This is when I wish I could have a hovercar. Just zoom past every fucker on the ground.
When I finally got onto the bridge heading towards I-5, I asked, “Rachel, are you still with me?” I could hear her breathing on the other side of the phone, but I needed to hear her voice.
“Yeah, I am here. I am just staring at the waves. I could get lost in the sound of waves.” I breathe. She sounds fine. The only thing I can tell from her voice is that she is tired. I will take her home, make her some food, and then let her rest. We can plan what to do after that. We can figure out what happened between her and Andrew. And I will figure out where he is and end his ass.
I pulled up to the beach twenty minutes later; there was some traffic, but it was not bad. Instantly, I see Rachel sitting on a log in the sand, staring into the water, phone still up to her ear. I unbuckled my seatbelt and hung up the phone. She didn’t even realize I hung up until I walked behind her. She has a big overnight bag with her. She wears black leggings, a grey sweatshirt hanging off her shoulder, glasses, and no makeup. Her hair is down and wet as if she just got out of the shower. Physically, she looks fine, and that alone makes the pulling in my chest lighten a bit.
“Hey,” I say as I walk up towards her. She looked at me with a sheepish smile, and her blue eyes seemed almost grey with no sign of life in them. That’s when I saw the handprints on her cheeks. I reached out my hand to grab her chin, and she flinched. I pulled back immediately.
“Hey,” she said back. She stands up, grabs her bag, and slings it over her shoulder. She walks up to me slowly, with caution.
“What happened? Why do you have handprints on your cheeks? Did Andrew do this?” She looks away and won’t answer the questions.
“Don’t worry. It’s all taken care of. I’m ok. Promise.” She says as she holds out her pinky for a pinky promise. I grab her pinky, and she kisses her thumb. I look at her with a questioning look.
“It's to seal the pinky promise, " she says as if it were no big deal, and everyone should know that. I kiss my thumb, too, and she pushes our thumbs together and smiles at me.
She sounds so sure about everything, but I swear something must have happened. I can feel it. I swear to fucking God! I will skin Andrew alive! I will torture him so badly that he will be wishing for the sweet release of death!
I motion for her to go ahead of me. She nods at me and starts to walk towards the car. My mind is going a thousand miles an hour, and I think the one thing I told myself I would never think!
I NEED TO ASK MY GRANDFATHER FOR HELP…..
We pull up to my house after a fifteen-minute car ride of silence. All Rachel did was look out the window, lost in thought. I kill the engine and unbuckle, looking over at Rachel, who hasn’t moved a muscle, and it's starting to worry me. I walk around to her side of the car and open her door for her, but she doesn’t move. I offer my hand to her, and she continues staring into space, not even noticing that I am next to her. I bend to unbuckle her seat belt, and that is when she finally looks at me, blinking out of thought. Her eyes show nothing, but I have a strong gut feeling that it wasn’t nothing.
“Hey, Mi Muneca, I’m going to pick you up and carry you into the house. Is that okay?” She gives me a very faint nod of approval. I bend down and scoop her into my arms, grabbing her bag with my free hand, slinging it over my shoulder, and using my hip to shut the door.
I walk into my house and through the living room to get to the guest bedroom, where I lay Rachel on the queen-sized bed when we enter. “Do you want to tell me what happened or rest first?” She looks at me and shakes her head.
“That’s okay. We will get through this together. I am not going anywhere, but I need to know what happened to be able to help you.” She grabs my hand and closes her eyes. Her breathing turns into soft snores almost instantly, so I slowly remove my hand from hers and grab the blanket from the foot of the bed. I lay it over her and quietly leave the room. She needs some rest.
As I close the door, I turn and head to my office. I need to make this call even though I don’t want to. I can’t get my hands dirty without jeopardizing my career, and regardless of how long it has been since I talked to my grandfather, he will always help me when I ask.
I go to my bar cart and pour a hefty amount of whiskey before taking a sip and savoring the burn. I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts. My finger hovers over the call button. I take a deep breath and click it. A deep, husky voice answers on the other end at the second ring.
“Lopez García!”
“Hey, it’s me. I need help with something.”
“Mi Nieto, what can I help you with?” My grandfather says in a surprisingly chipper tone.
“There is a guy named Andrew Starr; he was in jail for domestic violence a couple of months ago for kicking his pregnant girlfriend into a brick building and killing the baby. I need anything and everything you can get on this man.” My grandfather doesn’t reply for a while, and it starts to make me nervous.
“Alright, Mi Nieto, I got everything about him pulled up. What would you like to do? Do you just want his file? Do you want me to send some people to get him hung up in a warehouse? Do you want me to make him disappear? What exactly is the outcome you are looking for?” He replied that it was no big deal and that he hadn’t just asked me how I wanted to handle Andrew.
“The warehouse works great for me. Thanks.” You know, I never wanted to be in the family business. I never wanted to take my grandfather's place, but since he didn't have a boy and my mom had me, I am the next Heir. I don’t want it. I never have, but being the heir to the Cartel does have its benefits. Like being able to get what you want done, no matter what it is.
“So, are you going to tell me about her?”
“No, I am good. Thank you for your help. Send me a text when it’s ready for me.” I hung up the phone before he could ask any more questions. I put my phone back in my pocket and returned to the guest bedroom.
I sit in the chair in the corner of the room and watch Rachel sleep. Making sure her chest continues to rise and fall, just like I did in the hospital with her. Making sure that she sleeps soundly and knows she is safe in my house.