Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
MARIA
I sink down on to the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, as I try to take in what Malo’s telling me.
“You mean… you don’t think you can get him out?” I ask, my voice tiny.
“I didn’t say that,” Malo replies through gritted teeth. “It’s just going to be harder than we thought, that’s all.”
I feel as though I have been punched in the gut. This is the last thing I want to hear.
I can see from the look in his eyes that this scenario is one he never expected, and I don’t know how to feel about that. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. I was so insistent on coming to Mexico with them, sure I could help, sure I could move this along a little faster, but it feels as though we’ve come so close only to slam up against a brick wall.
“I’m sorry it’s not better news.”
“It’s not your fault,” I reply, forcing myself to look up at him. I feel a pang at the expression on his face. He looks guilty, and I can tell he’s blaming himself for this.
“You want me to leave you alone?” he asks, voice taut.
“I… I think I should go back to Houston,” I admit to him, finally. I know it’s not what he wants to hear, but what good am I going to do out here? I should give them a chance to clear their heads, not worry about what I’m going to do next, especially after what I pulled. I know it scared Malo, I could see it in his eyes when he came to find me, and I feel such guilt knowing how much stress I must have put him through. As long as I’m here, I feel as though I am just going to be holding them back.
“You don’t have to do that,” he tells me.
I shake my head. “I know. But I feel like I should. I’m just going to be getting under your feet while I’m still here, and I?—.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” he shoots back defensively, and he turns to head out of the room.
“Malo, where are you going?” I call after him.
He doesn’t turn around to reply.
“For a ride,” he says over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later. If you’re still here, that is.”
I want to call after him, but I get the feeling it’s not a good idea. He’s pissed, probably still mad at me for what happened earlier today, and I can’t blame him. If he needs some space to clear his head, that’s fine by me. I watch him go, my stomach sinking, and wonder why on earth I thought coming here was a good plan in the first place. These guys know what they’re doing better than I ever could, and my emotional involvement in this situation is just going to make it all the messier.
I pack up what little I brought with me, and wait for Malo to return. I’m sure he’s going to cool off soon, and I want to talk to him before I go. I know I don’t want to leave Mexico without him knowing how much I appreciate everything he is doing for me. He’s gone out of his way to be here with me, to help me in the face of all of this, and I know it can’t be easy.
But the hours pass, and there is still no sign of him. Worry begins to prickle at the back of my mind, and questions begin to rise as to what might be going on with him. Is he okay? What if he ran into trouble out there? He’s a King, after all, and they have one hell of a reputation in this town. I don’t think I want to know what might have gone down if the cartel recognized him.
I wander out of the room we were sharing, trying to keep calm as I search for him. Maybe he’s back and just didn’t come talk to me because he’s still pissed that I’m leaving?
Blue spots me as he emerges from the room that has become the center of operations, and he frowns when he spots the look on my face.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Just looking for Malo,” I reply, trying to keep my voice light and neutral; I don’t want him to know what’s really going on in my head, the level of worry that’s dancing around in there right now.
“He went out for a drive a few hours ago,” he replies. “He’ll probably be back soon.”
“Does he… do that kind of thing a lot?” I ask.
Blue shrugs. “Pretty often, yeah,” he replies. “It’s his way of blowing off steam. Especially being out here, so close to the cartel. No wonder he’s feeling a little tense.”
I cock my head with interest. “Has he got a history with the cartel?” I ask curiously.
Blue nods. “Oh, yeah. We all do. But him, especially. After what happened with Harley.”
“Harley?” I ask. The girl from the Kings’ compound I ran into a couple of times, the one who always seemed so standoffish with me.
“Yeah, you don’t know about what happened to her?” he asks, sounding a little surprised.
I shake my head. “No idea.”
He winces.
“Was it bad?” I ask, curious. I know I probably shouldn’t be looking for an explanation, but I want to understand Malo better. Something was drawing me to him, making it impossible to deny myself his presence, even when I should have known better – I know the kind of man he is, and yet, a part of me still craves him, as much as I did that first night. There’s still so much about him I don’t know, and I want to get to the bottom of what made him the man he is today.
“It was… really fucking bad,” Blue replies, his face darkening, as though he’s remembering it all right then and there. “Harley got taken by Las Rosas. She was hurt real bad. You know what I mean?”
My eyes widen. “As in…?” I ask, trailing off. After what they tried to do to me, how they forced me out on to the streets, made me use my body to get information, I don’t even want to think how badly they could have abused Harley.
“As in, exactly what you’re thinking,” he replies darkly. “Malo blamed himself for it. Still does. Thinks he should have protected her—should have gotten her out of it sooner.”
“He holds himself responsible for that?” I ask.
He nods. “He was...meant to be watching over her at the time,” he explains. “Even though he couldn’t have done anything else, he still beats himself up over it. As far as I know, anyway.”
I hesitate before I reply. I don’t want to expose him out of nowhere, but it’s not like I didn’t see him snorting up that line before we hooked up for the first time.
“Has he been using around you?” he asks, looking concerned.
I shake my head. “No,” I reply honestly. “Not since that first night, anyway. I saw him snorting a line of something outside the bar, but I haven’t seen him touch anything other than beer since that night.”
A storm cloud passes over Blue’s face, as though that’s the very last thing he wants to hear. “Shit,” he mutters. “I need to talk to Sin.”
I feel a twist of guilt in my chest. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything about what I saw that night. It’s not as though Malo has been taking anything in front of me since—not that I know about, anyway. He seems pretty clear-headed, but then, would I know the difference? I haven’t known him that long, probably not long enough to be able to parse when he’s using and when he’s not unless I actively see him making that choice.
I watch as Blue goes, and slump against the wall. Fuck. I don’t know what to do. Should I stay? Stick around with Malo? I don’t want him to feel as though I’ve just abandoned him. And I don’t want him to think he’s failed, either, just because they haven’t found my father yet. No wonder he was so willing to come out here and help me get him back. If what Blue is saying about Harley’s situation is true, it sounds like Malo has a serious score to settle with these guys.
And it explains why Harley was so cold with me when I was back in Houston. I feel a pang in my chest when I think about what she must have been through. Nobody deserves to be hurt like that, nobody. It’s a miracle she’s doing anything other than hiding out in her room all the time. I’m not sure I would have been able to stand on my own two feet had I been through what she has.
I make my way back to my room, where I pull on my hoodie and stuff my hands into the pockets. I just want to vanish into myself for a while, but I know I can’t do that—my father is relying on me to get him out of Las Rosas Negras grasp, and I can’t fail him.
Getting to that place, the one where he was being held before, and finding it empty really drove home to me just how far I am from getting him back, and it terrifies me. It’s starting to sink in that he might be a casualty of all of this—that they might never let him walk free again, especially after how I betrayed them.
I shiver when I remember what El Serpiente said to me. That we would be okay, just as long as I played by his rules. The reminder of that, of how much trouble my father might be in because of the choices I’ve made, makes me feel ill. If I’m to blame for any harm that happens to him, I know I’ll never be able to forgive myself.
My phone buzzes, snapping me out of my fugue, and I look down at it—there’s a message waiting for me. Malo? I open it at once, hoping it’s him telling me he’s on his way back.
But, instead, it’s from a number I don’t recognize. My heart stills when I see what’s waiting for me. The image attached to the message is what catches my attention, bringing tears to my eyes.
It’s a photo of my father, tied to a chair—lip bleeding, eyes blackened, slumped over as though he can hardly hold himself up. I stare down at it, my eyes widening, nausea twisting in my stomach. No. No…
A message in Spanish has been sent along with it, and my eyes fall down to the words waiting for me, praying that they’ll tell me this is some kind of sick joke, nothing more. But, instead, they sound more like a threat: Come back to Houston. Daddy misses you.