Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
NOAH (PRESENT)
“I don’t understand. What do you mean he’s part of the reason you’re still alive?”
“I knew your father,” I started, but Nassim cut me off.
“How did you know him?” he rushed out, his gaze searching mine for answers.
“Let him finish,” Amalia interjected, her tone strict.
I briefly glanced over at her before focusing my attention back on my newfound cousin. Nassim sighed and gestured for me to go on.
“I knew your father,” I repeated, my voice steady as I prepared for the second time tonight to reveal the connection I had to the cartel, a tie I’d spent my entire life severing.
I didn’t particularly want to reveal to more people who my father was, but we had a common target and I needed Nassim to trust me.
“Reda Taleb was my father’s right-hand man.”
His features contorted in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. “Your father?” he echoed, the words hanging in the air between us like a heavy cloak, suffocating.
I gave him a curt nod and cleared my throat. “Omar Barrera’s my father,” I affirmed. “But only by name. Reda was more of a father to me than mine ever was.”
Nassim’s eyes widened in disbelief as his fingers instinctively found their way to his temples, pressing firmly as he shook his head. After a few moments, he finally brought his gaze back on me.
“Wait. Are you the little boy in the picture my dad always used to carry in his wallet? I always asked him who it was and he just kept telling me that it was someone from his past that he deeply cared about.”
“That’s something you’d have to ask him.”
Nassim’s features suddenly sombered, his eyes full of sorrow. I knew what that look meant because it was the same haunted look I’d sported after I’d lost my mother.
A phantom ache wrapped around my rib cage as I waited for Nassim to confirm what I thought, regrets of years lost and moments never shared washing over me.
The more I looked at Nassim, the more I saw their resemblances. From the shape of his eyes and the way they crinkled when he smiled, even their personalities were extremely similar.
And the more I looked at him, the more I saw a ghost of the man who’d shaped my childhood alongside my mother.
For a long time, it had always been just me, my mother, and him. I’d thought of reaching out on multiple occasions after we’d moved away, but I didn’t want to jeopardize his secrecy.
I’d almost done it when my mother died, but I couldn’t find it in me to tell him that she’d passed away. I’d hoped he’d find out on his own and reach out, but that had never ended up happening.
“He passed away last year,” Nassim said, his voice strained. “Car accident. He died on his way to the hospital and I never got to say goodbye.”
I gave him a nod of understanding. “I know what that’s like,” I whispered. I could feel Amalia’s gaze boring into my skin, but I didn’t look her way and kept my eyes on Nassim. Before either could ask what I meant by that, I redirected us to the topic at hand. “What’s your plan?”
Nassim didn’t question my changing the subject and explained what he and Amalia had been working on for the last year. I initially thought they had a solid plan in place, but the more he revealed, the more frustrated I became.
Once he was done with his explanations, his eyes stayed on me, waiting for me to comment. Silence stretched between the three of us as I glanced back and forth between him and Amalia before my gaze landed on Nassim.
“So your plan is to essentially kill my father, take over, and become the new Rai’s ?”
“Yes.”
I huffed out a laugh of disbelief. “You’re out of your fucking mind. I thought you had a better plan than that. Do you not think Barrera won’t have you killed the second you’re in his line of sight?”
My gaze slid to Amalia. “Especially you.”
She’d essentially committed the highest treason you could against the cartel. The moment she was in my father’s reach, he would have her executed and there was no way I’d let that happen. She absolutely could take care of herself and handle her own, but I was also acquainted with what my father was capable of.
I couldn’t care less if it made me sound like an asshole, but I wouldn’t let her put herself in harm’s way. I wouldn’t risk losing another person I loved, especially not at the hands of my father.
“I can’t believe you agreed to this,” I mumbled, bewildered. She’d worked for my father for who knows how long. Surely she knew this would never work.
Her gaze twitched with irritation. “I did because it’s the best shot we have. I’ve worked for your father for the last three years and he certainly won’t recuse himself. The only thing that’ll stop him is if he’s six feet underground. If we don’t put someone in power ourselves, the cartel will fall into Hamza’s hands since Mateo’s dead and he’s just as bad as your father .”
The way she’d said the last words felt like getting punched in the gut. I could hear the resentment in her voice and I hated it. But a small part of me focused on the fact that this was the first time she’d shown some kind of emotion since I’d told her. She wasn’t indifferent anymore and I’d hold on to that like a lifeline.
She spoke again, “Besides, I doubt you want to be the next Ra’is , but what do I know, with all your lies, you just might.”
I had no plans of taking over the cartel from my father. No matter how much I wanted his reign to be over, I wouldn’t put myself in a world I’d never wanted any part of in the first place despite it technically being my legacy.
I wished their plan were better than barging into the riad and killing my father, but we were out of time, especially after the picture Nassim had gotten of Amalia and the hit my father had sent on Adil’s head.
We were looking at a few days at most before things would become a lot harder to handle if my father gained control of Alaoui’s assets and territory.
My eyes cut back to Nassim. “I still think this plan is incredibly stupid, but I’m in. Except I have two conditions.”
“Name them.”
“She stays with me at all times and my father can’t be killed if I’m not present.”
From my periphery, I noticed Amalia’s eyebrows shoot up in bewilderment. “Stay with you at all times?” Amalia’s laugh was harsh. “You don’t get to make decisions for me,” she hissed.
My eyes didn’t leave Nassim. “Those are my conditions or I walk, and you need me,” I stated, holding my ground. I knew Amalia didn’t like my first condition, but I didn’t care. “I might not have seen the man in almost thirty years, but he’s still the same.”
I knew my father well, just not in the way most kids knew theirs. Years might have passed, but deep down, he was still the same man. His ego had always gotten the best of him and my presence would unsettle him.
He’d never anticipate me coming after him, let alone overthrow him. Even after I almost choked him to death during our little reunion.
A sigh left his lips before he conceded, “Deal.”
Amalia’s head cut sharply toward him as anger emanated from her. “ Nassim ,” she interjected, disbelief evident in her tone at him agreeing with my demands.
He looked her in the eyes. “We need him. I won’t have time to rally up everyone we need on such short notice. So I can use all the extra hands I can get and it’s his father,” he explained. “And if my own cared for him, then I trust him.”
“Fine,” she mumbled in irritation.
“As for your crew issues, I know someone who can help,” I told him. “He’ll be on board when he knows who’s involved.”
There was someone I trusted implicitly, someone I knew would help once I told him who we were after, especially after the events that transpired a few weeks ago involving his wife.
More importantly, he also deserved to finally know the truth I’d been hiding from him. I’d thought I had done a better job at protecting him against my father, but learning that he’d known for years that I’d concealed his parents’ murder made me feel like I’d failed him.
On top of that, the fact that my dead half-brother almost killed his wife made it even worse. While he might struggle to forgive me for keeping my connection to my father, I clung to the hope he’d understand. If he didn’t, then I’d keep trying until I earned his forgiveness.
“How long would it take him to come?” Nassim asked.
“Once he agrees, just a few hours.”
He gave me a quick nod in response, reaching for his tea and downing the rest of it before speaking again. “All right, not that I don’t enjoy this beautiful company, but I do have a wife to go back to,” he said, pushing off his seat to stand.
The previous jealousy that had been slithering in my veins instantly evaporated when the knowledge that he was married registered in my brain.
I had no right to be jealous, but Amalia was and would always be mine.
Once up, he extended his hand in my direction. “Wish we’d met under different circumstances, but maybe after all of this, we can talk more,” he suggested, a soft smile playing on his lips.
I grabbed his hand in mine and stood. I wasn’t one to let people in, but something about him being Reda’s son was making me reconsider my stance. I didn’t have much of a family anymore and I still didn’t know if the one I still had would be there for much longer, but I decided I wouldn’t turn down his offer just yet.
“Yeah, let’s talk once my father’s a distant memory,” I finally replied.
He turned his body toward Amalia, who was still sitting. “Care to walk me to the door?” he told her, a tentative smile on his face, one of his dimples showing.
She rolled her eyes at him and motioned for him to lead the way. They strolled down the hallway, and I heard her fire a plethora of curses at him in Spanish as she harshly smacked the back of his head.
I stifled a laugh, covering it with a cough. She was already pissed at me and I didn’t need more things working against me.
In response, Nassim simply rubbed the back of his head and shrugged, a hint of guilt crossing his face. His expression didn’t seem to have anything to do with the fact that he’d agreed to my proposal and more because he didn’t like overruling her decisions.
After a few more hushed words, he lifted two of his fingers to his forehead, saying goodbye with a swift motion before opening the door and leaving. Once the door clicked shut, the palpable tension that had been present in the car reemerged in the air between us.
She locked the door with a key and fastened the bolt underneath it before walking back down the hallway.
“Amalia,” I called out to her when she stepped into the living area without a glance in my direction.
We were well into the night and dawn would break the horizon in just a few hours, but I wanted to talk to her. She’d ignored me earlier and I hadn’t pressed her, but I was done waiting.
She made her way into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then moved toward the closed door in the living room where I assumed the bedroom lay.
“Amalia,” I tried again.
Please, baby, look at me.
She didn’t and grabbed the handle, pushing the door open.
I stepped in her direction and was about to call her name out again when she turned around, meeting my gaze head-on. A myriad of emotions crossed her face—anger, betrayal… hurt.
“I already told you in the car earlier, I have nothing to say to you.” I took another step in her direction, but she held her hand up. “It’s late, Noah. I don’t have the energy to keep telling you no, so just let me go.”
I can’t.
I opened my mouth to protest, but she interrupted me again. “ Please , Noah.” She gestured toward the door leading to the courtyard. “There’s a faucet and a bucket outside you can use to shower. Bathroom’s over there.” She pointed to a small door in the corner opposite the kitchen. “You can sleep on the cushions or I think there’s an old mattress in the courtyard you can use, although I don’t know how long it’s been outside if it’s still even there.”
Once she was done, she walked inside the bedroom and shut the door behind her, not leaving me room to say anything back.
I stood still in the middle of the living room, hesitating on what to do next. On one hand, I wanted to barge into the room and make her talk to me, but on the other, I knew that if I pushed her too hard, too fast, she would close me off forever and I’d lose the opportunity to have her give me a chance to explain myself.
So I decided to respect her wishes for now and instead retreated to the courtyard. Once outside, my eyes scanned the area. It was relatively small, but for the size of the house we were in, I wasn’t surprised.
Patterned tiles lined the ground while tall stucco walls shielded us from peering eyes. I spotted the mattress Amalia had been referring to was propped against the back wall, but it was a mess.
The stitching on the sides was frayed, the surface had various dark spots, and the glint of a spring piercing the surface showed how much this bed had been worn down with time. I’d slept on concrete floors for the last three weeks. The living room cushions would do just fine.
I found the small brass tap mounted on the wall and made my way over. There was a large blue bucket with a small pink cup inside underneath it. I opened the tap and rinsed both items before filling the bucket. The water was cold, but I didn’t have the patience to sit and wait for water to boil so I could add it to it.
While it was filling, I opened the small bin a few steps away and found towels, a bar of soap, and a few small washcloths. Walking back, I shut the water off, removed all my clothes, discarding them to the side to wash later, and grabbed a handful of water with the pink cup.
I poured the water over my head and the icy temperature sent a shockwave of shivers down my spine, amplified by the whipping wind of the night air.
Fuck, this is cold .
I kept going, focusing my attention on relishing the feel of the water on my skin after weeks without and not how cold it was. I quickly showered, using the bar of soap to wash both my hair and my skin.
Once I’d finished, I tied a towel around my waist and proceeded to wash my clothes before hanging them on one of the chairs around the table.
I doubted there was a change of clothes inside, so I just had to hope that the morning heat would dry them up by the time I woke up. I grabbed another towel from the bin and walked back inside, dried my upper body with it and locked the door behind me.
The lights were now turned off and Amalia had shut the bedroom door. I ran the towel over my head as I padded over to it. I stood in front of it and contemplated whether I should knock. She might be asleep, but I had to try again.
So after softly knocking on the door, I quietly called out her name, “Amalia? Are you up?”
No answers.
I rapped my knuckles on the wooden door again and listened for movement on the other side, with no luck. With a resigned sigh, I walked back to the living room to find that she’d left a flat bed sheet on one of the cushions.
The gesture added an ounce of hope into the well I’d been cultivating since the day I’d left.
After I finished drying myself off, I placed a towel over one of the pillows and wrapped myself into the plaid orange sheet, the other towel still wrapped around my waist.
Then I closed my eyes, hoping the accumulated exhaustion of the past few weeks would take over and lull me into a deep sleep.
But all I kept thinking about was Amalia.