35. Elias
35
Elias
" V aleria, make sure she doesn't get up." I pointed towards Mamá's bedroom. "Dr. Navarro wants her to rest. She didn't handle the plane ride home very well."
Valeria nodded and disappeared through the foyer as I leaned against my desk.
"Have you seen Grace?"
Javier picked underneath his nails with his long hunting knife and shook his head. "Last I saw, she was living it up with her newfound freedom in the pool…swimming laps."
I narrowed my eyes.
"I found Sofia Torres. But there's a problem." He put his feet down from the coffee table, then placed his knife into its sheath. "She's a dead prostitute."
"Dead is not helpful."
"Sofia Torres is a popular name. This one died fifteen years back." He shrugged. "That's all I've got since you've run me thin these last few weeks. I've had to delegate."
"Delegate to better men."
"I'll change some things around. Also, Nadia tried visiting while we were gone. The guards turned her away."
My fingers spread across the keyboard, setting up the virtual meeting space. "Okay." I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose, the familiar scents of home stirring my sinuses. "We need to make sure Grace overhears."
"And you really think this is going to work?"
Walking around my desk, I braced my rear on the edge and nodded. "I know him. He'll threaten her somehow. He can't help himself."
"Yeah, but do you know her well enough to predict how she'll react?"
Grace's lyrical laughter drew my attention away, my feet walking her way as though she'd tugged on my soul-string.
I stopped at Mamá's bedroom as Grace giggled again. "That's not true."
"It is. I wouldn't lie. "
Grace sat on the chair beside her bed, her elbows resting on the edge of the mattress, holding Mamá's hands.
"He ran through the dinner tables with his bare butt cheeks on display, his wooden toy in his hand, screaming at the top of his lungs."
"All because he didn't want a bath?"
I leaned against the doorway, nostalgia burning inside me.
"More than that. He wanted to attend the dinner party. He was machismo ."
"How old was he then?"
"Only four." Mamá squeezed her brows together. "Or maybe he was six. I can’t remember." Sadness creased her forehead, and her smile turned upside down.
I folded my arms over my chest, the aroma of Pozole enveloping me in the kitchen. Mamá had a knack for preparing it—her remedy for when I fell ill or as the days turned cold, although today was Alphonse’s cooking. Those moments were like echoes from a time that had slipped away unnoticed.
"I was six, Mamá."
Grace jumped and spun around.
"I'm going to rest now." Mamá patted Grace's hand.
She stood with a nod, then inched past me through the door.
My arm lashed out around her waist, drawing her damp, chlorine-scented hair into my nose. "Meet me for a drink in thirty minutes?"
Her tongue darted across her lips as they parted, her pupils dilating. "Okay."
I kissed the crown of her head and stepped into Mamá's room, my arm slipping from her waist. "You're filling her head with stories of a boy who no longer exists." I sat in Grace's abandoned seat.
"He's still there." She gave a half smile. "You just don't let him out very often."
I scoffed as I examined the knot on her forehead and the bandage beneath it courtesy of Dr. Navarro. "I'm afraid he's lost for good."
Mamá's eyes closed, her hand squeezing mine. "He's sitting here right now."
My heart twisted as she cradled her hand over her belly, releasing a prolonged sigh. Her shoulders sagged.
"Sleep, Mamá." I leaned over, pressing my lips to her delicate knuckles, then placed her hand beside the other.
I eased back in my chair, watching Mamá's chest rise and fall with each slow breath. Strength resonated in her, much like Grace. That could explain why Grace gravitated towards Mamá—perhaps she recognized a shared strength, will, and hardheadedness between them.
Moving through the corridors, I strolled back into my office, where Javier remained seated, hands clasped behind his head.
He cast a sidelong glance at me. "Are you sure about this?"
I nodded. "I see no other way."
"I hope you know what you're doing."
A grim smile played on my lips. "Games are my specialty. Just ask Charity." Sinking into my desk chair, I reclined. "Aligning the pieces in all the right places is what I do."
The computer screen popped up with a message that someone was waiting in the meeting room. "And the final pawn just arrived."
Javier leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Are you going to answer it?"
I raised a brow, my lips tugging upward as I checked my watch. "Let him sweat for three more minutes."
"And if she's early?"
"She won't be."
"What if she's late?"
I gave a slow shake, my steepled fingers dimpling my lower lip. "She won't be."
A heavy tension thickened the air as I stared at the screen's pop-up, my fingers itching to accept the meeting.
Soon…
The clock struck four, and footsteps echoed down the hall.
A sly grin settled across my face as I accepted the invitation, joining the room.
"Miguel."
"Andrés sends his regards." Miguel stood with white brick around him, the blue sky above his head, his phone’s camera moving about as he paced along the wall.
"He's a coward." I laughed. "Always has been."
"You have Grace. I want to see her."
I rocked my seat back once, then sat upright. "No." I glanced at Javier.
"He wants her back."
I drew a deep breath with a raised brow, my fist clenched in my lap. "I don't recall asking—"
"If you don't hand her over in forty-eight hours, we will deliver pieces of each person who attempted to escape with her."
"And why would I care about them?" I shook my head.
"Grace is a bleeding heart. Given the choice, she will return to save them."
A wide grin split my lips. "You act as though she has a choice."
Miguel tipped his head to the side. "And you act as though we do not know about your trip into town. That is why you took her…isn't it?"
I shrug. "And if I did?"
"Give her the choice, or she'll never forgive you."
"Forgiveness is not a luxury we indulge in in this world. I can live with the consequences."
"Be that as it may. You have forty-eight hours. No more."
"We'll see."
"If you think your Generals will be of any help, they're dead." Miguel sat still for a moment, then leaned in. "And so are your sicarios ."
I glared at the screen.
"Tell her Rachel survived." Miguel smiled.
The screen turned black, and I slammed the lid down on the laptop.
Javier tugged out his phone from his pocket. "They must've done it quietly. There hasn't been any talk, and Grimaldo hasn't said anything about this."
Footsteps scampered away from the cracked office doors, and I peered at Javier.
His attention shot up from his phone. "Do you think she heard?"
I sneered with a subtle shake. "One can only hope."