Chapter Seven #2
He hesitated, then sighed. “Unlike some of the newer cartels who are struggling to make a name for themselves, the Lozanos don’t force people to join unless circumstances demand it.
Willing soldiers are best. Some are generational.
If a father, uncle, or cousin is involved, the younger ones usually want to join.
Some parents have law-abiding jobs and can barely afford food, so the children or the parents themselves earn extra money as mules or lookouts.
Money, status, power, respect—it draws people in. It drew me in.”
Lourdes bit her bottom lip. “I can’t judge. I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth.”
“A silver spoon forged in the bowels of Hell.” He bent his arm behind his head and shifted slightly for a more comfortable position.
The tight muscles in his back eased. “Rubén donates to charities and hosts fundraisers, and I donate a fair bit myself. We give money in the cartel’s name to win people over, like helping out youth shelters and backing medical researchers working on cures for AIDS, cancer, things like that. ”
She nodded. “Papá does the same, but he always gripes about it beforehand.”
“I’m not surprised.” Enrique stroked a lock of her silken hair between his thumb and forefinger.
“Lots of kids or young adults slip through the cracks. They end up in the hands of pimps or human traffickers, get hooked on the pipe or needle, and have no say about their future. The recruiters offer an alternative. The criminal life is dangerous, but they get to choose it for right or wrong. It’s not perfect. Believe me, I know.”
“Jacobo complained about you sometimes...” she trailed off, averting her gaze. “You weren’t born with cartel blood in your veins. He looked down on you for that.”
Enrique snorted. “The asshole hated me. He didn’t think I was good enough to be friends with his brother or welcomed into the Lozano family.
After my own died, I lived on the streets with other kids.
Slept behind dumpsters or in abandoned buildings.
Ate whatever I could steal. Pickpocketed day in, day out.
Two years of that.” He shuttered his eyes, the memories far too vivid for his peace of mind. “Then I picked the wrong pocket.”
“What happened?” she asked gently and stroked figure eights on his chest.
“A cartel recruiter caught me. A lieutenant, in fact—Jesús Lozano.”
“Jacobo’s uncle?”
“That’s right. I thought I was going to die right there in the alley.
Instead, Jesús offered me a choice: continue to live on the streets, or join the ranks.
Who knows how much longer I would’ve lasted before some child trafficking scum grabbed me.
” He blew out a harsh breath. “Jesús dumped me at a training camp. Of all the things that could’ve happened, I was lucky to have met him.
If I died now, I have friends to mourn me.
Back then, no one would’ve noticed or cared.
The proudest day of my life was when I got this.
” He shifted out from under her and drew his right arm from his shirtsleeve to reveal his spiderweb tattoo—the symbol of his loyalty to the Lozanos. “I was twenty.”
“Wow. It’s so big.” Lourdes lifted the sleeve of his T-shirt and traced her fingertip across the detailed webbing that stretched from his shoulder blade to his wrist.
On his twitching biceps, the words Lozano Cartel were intricately woven into the web while the spider beneath it crawled in permanent stasis near his elbow.
“May I see your other tattoos? It was too dark last night for me to tell what they were.”
He yanked off his overshirt and T-shirt. The sensual heat of her gaze caressed the tribal bands and swirls of black smoke that masked the faded scars on his torso and left arm. Her succulent bottom lip disappeared between her teeth again.
“How did you get this?” She rubbed a short, rigid scar just below his tatted pec.
“Camp 47,” he replied, deadpanned.
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Are there really forty-seven training camps? More?”
He laughed, the guttural sound tearing from his throat. “No. The numbers are random. Keeps the federales guessing.”
Lourdes traced the scar again, gentler this time. “What was it like being there?”
“Brutal.” He pulled his shirts back on and picked his words carefully.
“I met Rubén there. He was only two years older than me, but already so hard. Tough. The camp trainers broke us down to rebuild us. Starvation, beatings, intense exercise. Long days and longer nights. The idea was to destroy any softness so the soldier could rise.”
“That’s heartbreaking.” She blinked rapidly, fighting a sheen of tears.
“It’s how things are.” Enrique fingered another length of her satiny hair.
The sympathy in her pinched eyes scorched him.
“After a few years, I left the camp and worked different jobs. Rubén and I found our niche in the outbound shipping network. We handled inventory, logistics, and transportation. He later moved into the gambling racket; I chose enforcement and trained others at my old camp. I wanted to change things. Make the training less brutal.”
She smiled and rested her hands in her lap. “You succeeded. No question about that.”
“Sí.” He grinned and shifted to his side. “I moved up. Became a lieutenant, then lead lieutenant. There’s only one lead per camp, so the promotion was an honor.”
“I’m sure it was. How did you get to where you are now—the top boss?”
“That’s a long, bloody story. The short of it, the senior capo in charge of the recruitment and enforcement wing was Rubén’s father’s second-in-command.
He died last year when Rubén seized control of the cartel after the jefe’s death, so Rubén promoted me to take the man’s place, and I picked my own replacement for Camp 47. ”
Lourdes huffed and tossed her arms up in frustration.
“It doesn’t make sense. Not only are you a senior capo, you’re also second-in-command of one of the oldest cartels in the country.
You built your own place within it, climbing from nothing.
You’re the exact kind of man my father wants to ally himself with when it comes to his son-in-law.
” Deflating, she picked at a loose string on her pants.
“Beyond breaking his word, I do not see why he refused to cancel the arrangement with Diego when you offered yourself for the marriage contract. Unless he knew I would rather marry you, so he acted out of spite.”
“Spite very well could’ve been the issue.” He leaned up and clasped her fidgeting fingers. “Gerardo Villegas has his pride. That’s what it boils down to.”
“Enrique, I’m scared. How are we going to get through this? How are we going to get Papá to back down?”
“Leave it to me.”
“No.” Lourdes pulled back. “We’re partners. We do it together, or not at all.”
“I like this fierce side of you.”
She blushed, her cheeks reddening. “It’s new.”
“Keep it up.”
Laughing weakly, she dipped her finger in his cleft chin.
“We should get married before anyone finds us. Once we show my father and Rubén our marriage certificate, they’ll have to accept it.
I don’t think Rubén will be a problem—he was always kind to me when I was married to his brother—but Papá might seek revenge. ”
“Anything is possible. It’s about time you come around to my way of thinking about our wedding.
The sooner we do it, the better. I already have the license at the cabin, along with all the paperwork I need to tie the knot.
The license, however, is for the state of Sonora, so we’ll have to cross the border and find the nearest civil registry office. ”
“Doing it quick and dirty is so romantic,” she drawled, then winked at him.
“I don’t care how we do it, though I would rather we not have an elaborate church wedding where I’m the center of attention.
I want the ceremony to be small. Intimate.
Just for us. My paperwork is in my purse.
Thank God I insisted I’d hold on to it instead of letting my father have it. ”
“You’re telling me. I’d planned to bribe whoever I had to for them to marry us since I didn’t expect to get your paperwork. I was relieved as fuck to find it when I took out your phone.”
“When you kidnapped me.” She punched him lightly on the arm.
Relief swept through him. At least she could joke about it now. “Twenty-four hours ago, you hated me.”
“I never hated you. I was angry, sure. You had no right to do what you did, but I get why you did it. Now, I’m all in.” She grasped his hand. “I want a marriage where my husband trusts me, respects me, and lets me into his life with no barriers between us. Will you give me that?”
“You have my trust and respect, but Lourdes, I cannot tell you everything. My life and job are dangerous. If you knew too much and talked to the wrong person, I could be dead, or something could go wrong. You need plausible deniability.”
Her breath hitched. A flash of pain filled her eyes, then vanished behind a cool shield.
Carajo. Enrique turned her hand over so he could twine his fingers with hers. “If the federales or police ever come after us, you need to be able to say that you do not know anything. That’s the only way you’ll be able to pass a polygraph test.”
“I’ve lived under the threat of federal persecution and backstabbing criminals my whole life. I never knew much about the darker parts of Papá’s business, and I never wanted to. Jacobo never told me anything, either. With you, things must be different. We must be equals.”
“Not in this. Keeping you in the dark about certain parts of my life is the price we must pay for our safety. I don’t want you to look at me and see a monster.”
She shook her head. “I see a survivor. A protector.”
“Lourdes, try to understand this from my point of view.”
“I do understand. That doesn’t mean I like or accept it.
” She sighed and withdrew from his hold.
Her lips crinkled on one side. “It’s fine.
Everything is new right now. In a couple of months, you might feel differently once you realize you can trust me to keep quiet.
That I can handle knowing about the illegal things you do. ”
His throat constricted. Illegal things? That was putting it mildly.
If she knew he’d washed his hands in rivers of crimson more than once, she would never look at him the same again.
No fucking way would he change his mind on this.
As his wife, she would be a target for anyone who dared to cross him. He had to protect her at all costs.
He kissed her before he unfastened her jeans and slid them down her body.
“What are you doing?” She grinned as he pulled off her shoes and pants.
“Making love to you.” Distracting you from this conversation, he bit back. “We’ll get married tomorrow and head to Hermosillo. Once things settle down, let’s return here for our honeymoon. It’s no Bermuda—”
“That sounds perfect. Now, kiss me.”