Chapter 31
Triana~
It was Friday, and I hadn’t gotten any sleep last night to add to the long list of reasons why I felt so damn exhausted.
Thankfully, except for mealtimes, I’d been left alone all day yesterday, but it was so hard to know if that was a good thing or not.
I was a media sensation, and no one was appreciating it very much over here.
The only bright spot was the day guard seemed to be decent enough.
When she had taken me back to my cell after speaking with Tomasco, I’d read that her name was L.
Valdez, and even though I knew that women could be just as brutal as men, she didn’t frighten me like the others.
Of course, she hadn’t kidnapped me off Rancher Hills land, so that might have a lot to do with it.
I also couldn’t help but think of my parents as I sat in my cell with nothing to do but regurgitate all the mistakes that I’d made over the past few weeks.
I’d been raised to believe that everything happened for a reason, but I couldn’t figure out the reason for this.
If it was God trying to teach me to be grateful for what I had, I’d already been grateful for what I had.
I hadn’t wanted more, I had wanted a chance at something different, and it really was that simple.
The sounds of boots stomping against the concrete floor had me sitting up in my cot, ready to defend myself, if necessary. However, when those boots stopped in front of my cell, it was L. Valdez and another man, one who dressed like he did more than just guard wayward criminals.
“Ms. Medina, you need to come with us,” L. Valdez announced as she opened the cell door.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Just follow us,” the man ordered.
“No,” I said, pretending to feel brave when I wasn’t. “Not until you tell me where you’re taking me.”
“Your choice,” the man bit out. “You can rot in here or you can go home, but know that I don’t care either way.”
“Go...go home?” I stammered. “What do you mean?”
“Just follow us, Ms. Medina,” L. Valdez repeated. “You can ask all the questions that you want once we get to the processing area.”
Wary but wanting to go home more than I wanted to exercise caution, I exited the cell, then followed behind them, hope choking me like I was about to pass out.
He had mentioned me going home as a real possibility, but how could that be?
Had Tomasco really gotten a hold of Benicio Cortez?
Had my parents finally done something? Or was Sonia causing a ruckus worthy of day-time television?
When we finally reached the inmate processing area, six men stood inside, and I immediately recognized Benicio Cortez as one of them, and my hands began to shake with a mixture of relief and fear.
He could be here to send me home to my family, or he could be here to haul me off to prison himself, and he’d have every right.
However, being a politician, he could also be here to thank the Mexican government for making an example of me, ensuring that the rest of his citizens remained in check.
With my heart stuck in my throat, I approached the six men, and as soon as I was close enough, Benicio Cortez said, “Ms. Medina, I hope you are well.”
“I...I’m fine,” I lied.
The taller of all the men stepped forward, saying, “Ms. Medina, I am Miguel Domingo, Mexico’s President, and I am here to extend my sincerest apologies for what has transpired here.”
My heart started thumping violently in my chest as I ran my palms down my thighs. “Excuse me?”
“Ms. Medina, it has come to light that a couple of our border patrol guards have acted criminally, and in exchange for maintaining peaceful international relations, we are releasing you into the custody of Mr. Cortez in exchange for allowing us to deal with our issues internally.”
Peaceful international relations?
As far as I knew, the RNA and Mexico were anything but peacefully engaged.
From the day that I’d been born, I’d always been under the impression that Mexico and Canada hated the RNA enough to have never allowed any American to apply for citizenship in their country, the new movement doing enough damage to approve that stipulation into law.
In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time that an American had applied to live in Mexico or Canada.
My eyes immediately flew towards Mr. Cortez. “I’m...I’m going home?”
He gave me a terse nod before saying, “The footage of your false arrest has made world-wide headlines, and it is in Mexico’s best interest to release you as soon as possible, and we will air that footage as well. It is imperative that we demonstrate a calm resolution.”
I had so many questions, but I wasn’t going to ask them in front of the Mexican government.
Even though I wanted to know if Benicio Cortez was going to throw me in prison for wanting to cross over into Mexico, I wasn’t going to air our ‘dirty laundry’ in front of these people.
If Mr. Cortez wanted to keep things cordial and professional, then I was going to let him.
I was not going to show my appreciation by questioning him in front of a government who hated us.
Even though Mexico was in the wrong right now, the RNA had wronged them first.
“Thank you,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say.
“Your stuff,” Mr. Cortez said as he gestured towards my bag and clothing, and I grabbed them like they might change their minds at any moment. I didn’t care if I was traveling home in a prison jumpsuit, I only cared that I was going home.
“I can also assure you that we will take swift action against those who have wronged, not only you, but our great country as well,” Mr. Domingo said.
“Thank you,” I muttered, not sure what I was supposed to say.
“No need to thank me,” he replied graciously. “This atrocity never should have happened in the first place.”
I looked between all of the men, and the other four were saying nothing, simply standing next to their perspective leaders, and it was kind of creepy.
Their rehearsed PR also felt hollow as hell.
Even if I’d wanted to give Miguel Domingo the benefit of the doubt regarding his sincerity, his words sounded like they’d been prepped for the public.
For that matter, Benicio Cortez’s little speech had sounded the same way.
Now, while the important thing was that I was going to get out of here, I still didn’t know if I’d be heading home or back to jail, only on Rancher Hills land this time.
I waited quietly as all six men shook hands, exchanged political promises, and postured for one another.
Honestly, the only person who looked genuinely regretful was L.
Valdez, and while I had written her off as not caring, I was beginning to wonder if she was the reason why I was getting out of here.
As soon as they were done, Benicio Cortez turned my way. “Shall we, Ms. Medina?”
I gave him a quick nod, then followed L.
Valdez and the man that had come to get me through the doors until we were all walking through the front doors of the processing center, and when the sunshine hit my eyes, I had to squint against the harsh contrast, but it didn’t take long to get used to the bright light.
As we approached a black SUV, Benicio Cortez opened the car door like a gentleman, and I got inside wordlessly, but that was because I didn’t want to make things worse.
Now was not the time to press my luck, and no matter how cordial he was conducting himself, there was no way that Benicio Cortez wasn’t angry as a swarm of wasps.
Once we were on our way, Benicio spoke again. “Can I ask what you were doing so close to the border, Ms. Medina?” he asked. “You live in Masterson County.”
Everything in me was telling me to lie to the man, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. No matter what was happening behind their political doors, this man had saved me from spending the rest of my life in a Mexican prison, and I’d be a shit person to dismiss that so easily.
“I was looking for something more,” I answered cryptically but honestly.
He gave me a terse nod before asking, “And did you find it?”
“Yes and no,” I sighed. “I’ve found that there’s nothing more out there, no matter how much I might want there to be.”
After a few seconds of silence, he said, “You know, your brother and friend were very persistent, and I was even surprised when Alvin Booker called on your behalf-”
What?
“-However, where are your parents in all of this, Ms. Medina?”
“They’re busy disowning me because I didn’t agree to marry the man of their choosing,” I answered candidly. It was clear that my parents had truly disowned me, and if that really was the case, then I didn’t owe them anything.
Mr. Cortez’s head jerked back in surprise, and catching him off guard made him seem more human. “That’s...well, that’s enlightening.”
I just shrugged. “It is what it is, Mr. Cortez.”
Giving me another terse nod, he asked, “And may I inquire how you know Alvin Booker?”
“I don’t,” I replied as evenly as I could. “I’ve never met the man, and I have no idea why he’d pick up my cause.”
Liar.