Chapter 17
17
“ W hat’s got you so upset?” Rita led me into her tiny kitchen and the scent of vanilla and fresh baked cookies surrounded me, but didn’t calm me.
“I’ve made a big mistake and I don’t know how to fix it. Well, that isn’t entirely true. I can fix it, but I don’t think my father will be happy.”
I hadn’t divulged to Rita what I was doing in Tijuana, and she hadn’t asked. When my father wanted a favor no one turned him down—especially a loyal employee.
Rita always cooked my favorite birthday meal, made homemade snacks and rewarded Manny and I when we did well in school. Her gentle kindness and support when my mother died got me through some very dark days, and for that alone I loved her.
“I know your father can be a hard man, but I believe if you are honest he’ll understand.”
Rita based her view of my father as a savior, a man who favored her with bonuses and extra pay at holidays. Even if she guessed at his true persona it didn’t matter, because in a city where most were struggling, Rita and her family were comfortable .
“I only wish it was that easy.”
“Tell him what’s bothering you, then try to come to an agreement.”
There would be no good way to explain my feelings to a man who prided himself on his austere persona.
“Many people hold your father in high regard.”
Most of those same people were also terrified of him.
“I shouldn’t tell you this, but he helped my family when we were in desperate need.”
I wasn’t completely surprised. He’d helped my mother’s family in Brazil and many of our relatives here in Mexico. He was a paradox with many layers—as ruthless as he was philanthropic. I didn’t doubt my father did good deeds, but I couldn’t fool myself into thinking the good outweighed all the bad.
“He gave you money?”
“Ohhh, no, much more valuable than money.” Rita placed a plate of her special shortbread cookies on the table, but didn’t elaborate and I didn’t question further. I knew she valued her privacy and I respected that quality.
Rita did her best to soothe my nerves, but the tangle of guilt, regret, and a degree of shame refused to disappear. I knew what I had to do, and the sooner I got it over with the better I would feel.
B lood came back with a heaping plate of Marisol’s pasta, but my appetite hadn’t returned. Everything Blood said made sense but it didn’t make it any easier.
“This is fuckin’ good,” Blood said between mouthfuls. “Maybe I should rethink you getting with her.” He pointed to the plate. “This alone could make it worthwhile.”
“Now you’re a comedian.”
Blood flipped me off, then shoved more food into his mouth .
“What the fuck is that?” I pushed away from the table as police sirens and flashing red lights lit up the club from the outside.
Blood dropped his fork on the plate. “What the fuck is goin’ on?”
Two cops barged into the club with guns drawn, followed by four more with assault weapons. Not too different from the ones I shipped up to the States.
“Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head,” the first two cops ordered waving their guns at me and Blood. He yelled something in Spanish, and the other four cops stormed through the club and out the back door.
I knew the drill, but back in San Diego we had cops on the payroll. Not so in Tijuana, so I sunk to my knees and laced my fingers behind my head. I had no fuckin’ clue how this would play out, but we were definitely flying blind without a net. The other cop grabbed Blood and pushed him next to me. We exchanged a look as they wasted no time zip-tying our wrists behind our backs.
I cocked my head to the cop standing guard above me. “What the hell is this about?”
“Shut up.” He leveled his gun at my temple. One spastic twitch and my brains would be decorating the polished wood floor.
Blood and I continued to communicate with our eyes and five minutes later my suspicions were confirmed. The other cops returned, and harsh, fast words in Spanish were volleyed back and forth, then the cop guarding us dragged me to my feet.
“Where are the guns?” he demanded with his pistol aimed at my chest.
“What guns?”
“Don’t play dumb. We know you’re storing illegal guns here. Now where are they? ”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You can search this whole place, there’s no guns.”
The cop shouted more orders at the others and they spread out searching. They rummaged behind the bar toppling bottles of booze to the floor, then they invaded the office. The sound of upended furniture and general destruction pissed me the fuck off.
“I’m telling you, there’s no fuckin’ guns.”
“Shut up.” The cop gripped the gun tighter and shouted more orders in Spanish. When the others returned with nothing, more words were exchanged, then the cop holding his gun on me closed the distance between us.
“Just remember you are a foreigner here in this country and the next time you won’t be so lucky.”
I glared back at him refusing to break, but the fucker was right. If they hauled us in, no one would care. Even Jameson might let me swing after all the bullshit in San Diego.
I jerked my head over my shoulder. “Just quit fuckin’ around and cut us loose.”
A few tense seconds passed before he snipped the zip-ties, then he waved his arm at the others and they headed back to their patrol cars.
“Hate those fuckin’ zip-ties.” I massaged the red welts already popping up on my wrists. “Rather be cuffed any day.”
Blood wiped at his brow. “What the hell was that?”
“That was Sandoval fuckin’ with us. They knew exactly where to look and what they were looking for, then got pissed off cause they didn’t find it.”
Blood and I headed down the back hallway.
Two minutes later, we stood in the alley. The dumpster hiding the crawl space was pushed to the side with the door gaping open.
“And since you, me, and Sandoval are the only ones who know this exists . . .”
“I guess we got the last laugh. ”
Blood and I replaced the door, and moved the dumpster back in place.
I wiped my hands on the front of my jeans. “The cocky bastard underestimated us.”
A fter leaving Rita’s house I was determined to speak with my father. I would tell him I was done with this ruse, but first I had to get my nerves under control. I thought my hatred for the men who killed my mother would carry me through, but I obviously wasn’t strong enough to pull it off. Or ignore the combustible passion whenever Smoke and I were together. I reasoned the pain of my loss made me weak and allowed me to fall for the man I was trying to scam.
I’d already called my father and told him we needed to talk, not going into any details, hoping the element of surprise might work in my favor. I squared my shoulders, drew in a deep breath, rapped my knuckles against his office door, and entered.
The austere surroundings of his office always set me back, but I was determined to state my case in a logical way. Leaving out emotions or my ultimate mistake of letting my feelings get in the way.
“I’m glad you ask to speak to me tonight.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk.
Okay, I wasn’t expecting that response.
“Things have been moving along very nicely. I’ve put some things in motion, and I think we might have our enemies exactly where we want them.”
Wonderful. If his next words were we don’t need you anymore, I was home free.
“That’s what I wanted to talk about.” I bit at my lip, then quickly halted the nervous habit. “I . . . I can’t do this anymore. I’ve gotten too involved in the wrong way and I’m afraid I’ll do more harm than good.”
“Does he suspect your real identity?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not at all.”
“Then everything’s fine.”
“You don’t understand. Today I began to see him in a different way. I started to get close to him.”
“Exactly what you’re supposed to do.”
“Please just listen to what I’m saying. I’m done. I’m not working at The Tropics anymore and I’m not doing anything with Smoke anymore.” I spit the words out fast, not letting him interrupt me or try to convince me otherwise. I had to stand firm, I couldn’t let him intimidate me.
My father swiveled his chair and gazed into the dark night with the view of the colored light illuminating the pool, and beyond that the path leading to our private beach.
“I enjoy looking out at my accomplishments. I’m also proud I’ve been able to give my family such a good life—but like most things there have been sacrifices.” He turned back to face me. “And sometimes those sacrifices are unpleasant, but necessary.”
“I know, but we’re talking about me, not you and?—”
He held up his hand. “I’ve never asked my children for anything, but there comes a time when a father hopes his children will support him.”
“I understand, and thought I could do this, but it turns out I’m not as much like you as you thought.”
“Totally untrue. You’re exactly like me, you just haven’t experienced the struggles I have—and I blame myself for perhaps making you too weak. I’ve made you and your brother’s lives too easy.”
“Manny and I appreciate everything you’ve given us, but I’m an adult, and now I see taking on this task was a mistake. You said yourself you have Smoke where you want him, so you probably don’t need me anyway.”
“Like your mother, you underestimate your beauty, and the power it holds.” His eyes darkened. “The way it can make men do exactly what you want.”
His phone buzzed on his desk and he swiped it up and listened. His face twisted, then he barked out orders. He was definitely talking to police or some authority and he was definitely not happy.
“Damn it!” He swiped away the call and slammed his phone onto his desk. He drew in a few deep breaths, then turned his stormy, dark eyes on me. “There will be no more talk of you backing down.”
“What happened?”
“Smoke and Blood have found a way to not only cheat me out of my product but save themselves.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m talking about giving the monsters who killed your mother exactly what they deserved. By using you as a diversion, I hoped to make Smoke careless. I also expected both him and Blood to be rotting in jail by tonight. Then I arranged to have more drastic tactics implemented with my connections within the police department, but they’ve managed to double-cross me.”
I marveled at the easy way he talked about drastic tactics like I didn’t know it was a euphemism for murder. And yes, I fantasized many times about torturing or killing the people responsible for my mother’s murder. I wasn’t naive enough to acknowledge my part in his scheme, but I never would’ve bragged about it.
“Now I need you more than ever.”
“But I?—”
“By doing what I say, you will be honoring your mother.” His words tumbled over each other in a manic way. “You were a distraction to keep Smoke off his game, but now you are my last hope to bring them to justice.”
My father used words like justice and loyalty, but his meanings were twisted to suit this vendetta.
His dark eyes widened a second before he slammed both palms onto his desk. “You will continue to do this, and there will be no more discussion.”
“You can’t make me.” His outburst made my words sound small and childlike.
“You’re right, I can’t, but perhaps I can convince you another way.” He paused for effect and it was working. “Over the years you’ve grown quite fond of Rita.”
“Yes.” I rubbed my sweaty palms against the hem of my t-shirt.
“And I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see her hurt or upset in any way.”
“Of course not, what are you saying?”
“A few years back her son had an unfortunate confrontation with the police. He was carrying a weapon and he resisted arrest putting one of the officers in the hospital.” My father looked toward the ceiling. “Two offenses that carry a very heavy sentence and would’ve put him away for a long time.”
“What does any of this have to do with our situation?”
“Rita didn’t have the money for a lawyer and even if she did I don’t think her son would’ve won his case—so I stepped in. I used my influence with the local authorities, called in some favors, and Juan was released. No hearing, no trial—a free man all because I made it all go away.”
“I still don’t see what any of it has to do with us.”
“It’s very simple. You either continue working at The Tropics and pursuing Smoke or the evidence I have will reappear sending Juan straight to jail.”
“You wouldn’t. ”
“Rita’s heart would break to see her only son go to jail for many, many years.”
“Would you actually do that to a woman who’s worked for us so many years?” As the question left my mouth, I already knew the answer.
“It won’t be me doing the damage—it will be you.”
A long unsettling silence stretched out between us. He could afford to wait because he already knew the outcome. I didn’t doubt for one minute he would carry out his plan. His world was governed by checks and balances using people’s lives as collateral.
Unlike him, I wasn’t ready to destroy someone’s life, or gamble with their emotions for my own gain.
“Fine.” I heaved out a heavy sigh. “I’ll stay at The Tropics.”
“And continue to enchant the vicious biker.”
“Yes.” The word whispered from my lips. Suddenly, what little energy I had drained from my limbs.
My father directed his attention to his desk. “And just to be clear, I don’t want to have this discussion again. Soon I’ll give you another task. A final end Smoke will never see coming, and I’ll expect for it to be carried out without question.” He jerked his head in my direction. “Is that clear?”
“Clear.” I pushed out of the chair, turned away from the desk, and left his office—exhausted physically and mentally.
The spiral staircase leading to my bedroom suite seemed insurmountable and when I finally reached my room I flung myself on the bed. The tears didn’t come right away, but when they did I couldn’t control them. I wept for my poor mother, I wept for me, then I wept for what could never be with Smoke.
Finally, I rolled off my bed, stripped and stood under the shower letting the hot water pulse against my numbed body. When it became unbearably hot, I shut off the faucet, dried myself and slipped between the covers naked welcoming the cool sheets against my skin.
I refused to let my mind wander over the last twelve hours. I told myself what happened between Smoke and I was a mistake from the beginning, and whatever feelings I had for him had to be squashed. From now on I would deal with Smoke the same way I handled the customers at The Tropics—fast, efficient, and without feeling.
Finally, I fell into a fitful sleep plagued with running and never getting anywhere while guns fired around me. I jolted awake more than once throughout the night plagued with visions of Smoke bloody and beaten begging me for help while my father laughed in the background.