Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cormac
I don’t exactly dread speaking with Jesus. I just didn’t plan for him to be the man I ask permission from. I’d always thought I’d ask Joey’s dad before proposing because I know she comes from as traditional a family as I do. This isn’t only about tradition. It’s not even about Joey in many ways. Even though I’d thought it would be a nice sentiment, now I’ll be asking if we can link our syndicates. With ties to the Mancinellis, there’s a strong chance he’ll say no.
Then, how will I elope?
And by elope, I mean have twenty-one people discreetly at our wedding because I know my family will be there come hell or high water, if for no other reason than the men protecting Joey and me during the ceremony. There’s no way all the men would leave all the women behind because they wouldn’t be guarded to our standards, and only we meet our own standards.
Hell in a hand basket as my granny would say—a far less colorful idiom than what my nana would’ve used. As though life wasn’t already complicated enough.
Joey’s in a deep sleep beside me, and it tempts me to call her dad now. But that would upset her, even though it might be better if she can’t hear what’s said. As though her family’s manifested just from a thought, my phone pings.
Unknown number
This is Santi. Answer my call.
Fecking hell in the devil’s arse—that was a Nana phrase.
I answer on the first ring, girding my loins for whatever’s coming.
“Hello.”
“Where the fuck is my sister? I went to see her, and her apartment’s taped off. All I can get from anyone is there was an explosion. Who the fuck set off a bomb in my sister’s apartment? What the fuck happened?”
“She’s sleeping next to me. She has stitches in her thigh from a piece of wood imbedding in it, and she has some stitches from where her head hit the door across the hall. We don’t have any details beyond speculation. We haven’t dealt with the police yet and won’t until my family investigates.”
“Investigates? You mean tampers with evidence.”
“Depends on what we find. The bomb was either rigged to go off when the front door opened, or she was there by chance when the timer went off. I know her living room blinds were closed, so I don’t think it was a remote detonator since no one could see in.”
“This is all because of you. She was safe until she started dating you. Stay the fuck away from my sister. I’m coming to get her. Where are you?”
“Santi, I can hear you yelling. It was loud enough to wake me.”
I look down and find Joey staring up at me. She reaches for my phone, and I hand it to her. She hits the speaker button.
“Where are you, manita ? You aren’t staying with that pinche pendejo catire hijo de tu puta madre. ” Fucking stupid, fair-haired and fair-skinned son of a motherfucker.
He really can’t stand me.
“Don’t speak that way to your sister.”
“ ?Chinga tu madre! ” Fuck off!
“Santiago, unless you want me to say the same thing to you and hang up, you’ll stop swearing. We don’t know why it happened. It could have just as easily been about our family. Maybe someone knows our connection to the Mancinellis now and went after me for that. Maybe someone already knew our connection and is pissed we found out. Until we know what’s happening, I’m safest with Cormac.”
“The hell you are. You’re coming to one of my safe houses. My men are guarding you since it’s obvious the O’Rourkes are useless. How’d someone get into your place to set it? This wouldn’t have happened if you’d accepted my detail years ago.”
“I won’t argue with you, Santi. My head already hurts.”
I stiffen beneath her, not pleased to hear she’s in pain. She holds up her right index finger and shakes it. Then she makes the talking gesture with her fingers and thumb and rolls her eyes. I relax, but just barely.
“It’ll hurt a hell of a lot more when you speak to papí . He knows.”
“I suppose you called and told him everything.”
“He called me. He told me shit I didn’t even know about the two of you. Said he has video. I doubt he watched them with popcorn. I sure as fuck wouldn’t.”
He must have someone in with the Colombians. I suspected as much when I learned who Joey’s family is. Hell, Luca probably told him before the door shut to his limo the other night.
“Don’t be gross. Nothing anyone could’ve recorded between Cormac and me would be anything more explicit than kissing.”
Only because all of our vehicles have windows tinted as dark as they can get while still street legal. My cars technically aren’t, but no cops give me a ticket when they realize who I am. Just a friendly suggestion to lighten them. I’m not friends with any cops, so I ignore them. When we’ve been at my place and the few times we’ve stopped at hers, we’ve always made sure the blinds and curtains are closed for this reason.
“You’ll find out in fifteen minutes when he lands.”
Joder .
Fuck. Now I’m the one swearing in Spanish.
Joey pinches between her eyes, and her shoulders droop.
“He’ll know I spoke to you, but I better call and leave a message before he turns his phone back on.”
“He isn’t flying some piece of shit commercial plane. You know that. His phone is on.”
“Wishful thinking.”
“I’m calling and putting it on three-way. Take yours off speaker. This is a family matter. We don’t need Cormac panting in the background.”
I haven’t made a sound, but it didn’t take a genius to know Joey would ensure I can hear. She shakes her head at me. She won’t take it off speaker. We listen to it ring three times before a thick Spanish accent answers.
“ Hola, osito .”
Little bear? Cute.
“ Jocelyn también está al teléfono con su inútil novio .” Jocelyn's on the phone too along with her worthless boyfriend.
“ Monita ?” Little monkey?
“ Sí, papá .” Yes, Dad.
The situation feels a little too fraught to call my father Daddy, especially when Cormac is right next to me.
“Mr. O’Rourke.”
“ Hola, jefe .”
I don’t make my accent as accurate as I could. I hope they continue in Spanish, and Jesus believes I can’t understand all of it. He’ll speak more freely.
I get my wish as the conversation carries on in Spanish.
“Where are you, little monkey?”
“Safe.”
“I find out my daughter’s almost blown up today. Don’t play games.”
“I am safe, but I don’t want you storming over. It won’t go well for anyone.”
“Does that mean you’re well-guarded?”
“By a small army.”
All our homes are like mini compounds with armed guards patrolling. The neighbors don’t ask questions about why there’s a guard shack at every private gate in an already gated community. The walls are all brick, and high enough that people can’t see how many guards are on duty around the clock. I’m certain the neighbors would rather the top echelon syndicates didn’t swarm the communities, but who’s going to tell us no? Especially when we pay cash for each home. Millions in cash.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I went to my place with my guard. He’s Cormac’s cousin. No one outside his immediate family is my personal guard. It’s always his brother or cousins. It’d be his dad or uncles if any of the other guys weren’t available. I put the key in the lock and pushed it open an inch or two before his cousin stepped in front of me. I knew better, but I didn’t wait. The moment he opened it wider, there was a blast of heat and the loudest noise I’ve ever heard. It blew me backwards into my neighbor across the hall’s door, which the blast burst open. I must have hit the corner because I have stitches. A piece of wood from my door got stuck in my thigh, so I have stitches there, too.”
Each time I hear the events recited—and now in a second language—I feel rage unlike anything I’ve mustered before. I want to tear everyone connected to this to shreds. But I’ll do it slowly. I’ll draw out their agony over days—weeks if I can. I’m outwardly calm for Joey’s sake, but I’m ready to combust on the inside. The bomb that went off today will be nothing compared to when I explode. I’ll leave nothing but ash.
Joey might not know the extent of my anger, but she senses it. She places my hand over her heart before she puts hers over my heart.
“Which hospital are you at if you got stitches in your head? You probably have a concussion.”
“You know I didn’t go to one. Nothing I described is serious enough for that.”
“This isn’t home. You don’t need to fear dying and organ harvesting.”
“I hadn’t thought about that until you mentioned it. Besides, no one’d steal any part of me in Mexico to satisfy American medical tourism. No one who does that would touch me because I look too much like you. Speaking of which, why didn’t you tell Santi or me about Olivia?”
“To protect you.”
“From our cousin who’s my size but grew up in America.”
“With a father connected to the Cosa Nostra , and a mother connected to the Culiacán.”
“Her father?”
“Yeah. She didn’t just marry into the Mafia. Apparently, she had ties she didn’t know about.”
“Like Santi and me. She had no clue we existed. We didn’t know about her. You let us believe our aunt was dead. You didn’t tell us when you found out she wasn’t.”
“Because it was safer for everyone.”
Jesus snaps at Joey, but her expression tells me she knows he’s right. As hurt as she is by the secret, she gets why her father kept it. It protected both women from exposure to other syndicates. But that protection ended when Olivia married Luca, and it’ll be nonexistent when Joey and I marry.
“The Mancinellis said you’re on good terms with them now. Is that true?”
“We do some business here and there.”
All of our homes have cell phone jammers. No one from the government is listening in—not in English, or in Spanish like now—but it still pays to be vague.
“Did something go wrong here?”
“No. They aren’t using you to get to me. What’s your boyfriend done to screw them lately? It’s more likely because of him. You’ve lived in New York for years with no problems. You take up with that blue-eyed foreigner and look what happens.”
Zarca gringo . Better than what Santiago called me.
“He has green eyes, papá . And he’s not the foreigner here.”
“Americans—”
“We’re in New York. The French didn’t steal this land from us and sell it to the Americans.”
“No, but they still stole it.”
El ruco. Old geezer.
No, not quite.
El chavoruco.
I’ve seen photos of him. A middle-aged man who dresses like he’s some suave twenty-something when he’s got gray hair and wrinkles.
Being a dick—even in my head—toward my future father-in-law won’t get me anywhere. I set aside my annoyance because I’ve got to play nice for Joey’s sake.
Joey’s phone is on the bedside table and buzzes. I reach over her and grab it. I show her the screen. She grits her teeth before mouthing, “work.” I hit ignore. She can call them back later.
“Don’t pretend not to get the point, little monkey. You were fine here before him. You might have done your studies at Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, but you did your grad school and clinical hours at CUNY-Hunter. You’ve been in America for years. A few days with the gringo, and you’re almost dead. Don’t think I don’t know about the mercenary who almost ran you over. I let that slide because it was just to scare you. This I won’t ignore. O’Rourke, you had your chance and failed. Stay away from my daughter or else.”
I don’t take the bait. I let Joey speak, even though it might kill me.
“I decide, papá . Cormac and I are permanent. You will not convince me otherwise. He was probably going to call and ask your permission to marry me before he found out who I was. I kept that from him until I knew he’s as serious about me as I am about him. He didn’t know my father heads one of the biggest cartels in Mexico. He fell in love with me for me. If I wanted a man just because he’s in organized crime, I could have found a man back home. I’m with him for him. If today hadn’t happened, he probably would have extended an olive branch and still asked your permission.”
“He isn’t getting it.”
“Then you’ll lose another woman in your life.”
I shake my head. Vigorously.
Jesus Espinoza isn’t a man to issue idle threats to. I don’t want to break up their family. That’s the one thing that would make me walk away from Joey. Her hand’s still over my heart. She fists my shirt and tugs. Her expression warns me not to argue.
“Don’t issue me ultimatums, Jocelyn. It didn’t work when you were a child.”
“But it did, so I’m giving you one now. Either accept Cormac and support us, or I only speak to you on Christmas and Easter. You and Santi don’t have the men here to take me, so you know it would be a death trap for anyone you send. Your niece grew up not knowing you. Do you want any grandkids to do the same? Would you do that to mami ?”
“Jocelyn—” Santiago tries to intervene, but it’s as though he said nothing.
“Enrique won’t be pleased to know you’re here. Do you want to rely on the Mafia to protect you when you have a flimsy relationship at best with your niece and only do business with them here and there? Or would your future son-in-law make a better ally against the jefe de jefes ?”
Boss of bosses.
Enrique Diaz is the most powerful cartel king in the world. Nothing happens in Latin America he doesn’t allow, unless it’s the NYC Cosa Nostra , bratva, or us. We’re the only three syndicates he can’t control because our international reach is too far.
Joey nails the coffin shut.
“I doubt the O’Rourkes would help you if I’m not even speaking to you.”
My future fiancée’s dragging me into shite that isn’t my decision. It’s Dillan’s. She’s not wrong, but I’m not the one who makes that call. She’s banking on a lot right now, and I don’t know that it’s a check she can cash. Jesus isn’t without connections here in the city. There are plenty of Mexican gangs tied to him, and there are some other Latin American ones who wouldn’t mind taking some shots at the Colombians. It’ll be a domino effect if that happens because the Diazes will aim straight for my family.
“Jo-Jo, you can’t speak for Cormac’s family. Don’t do this.”
Santiago finally gets a word in edgewise. He never struck me as a voice of reason. I suppose there’s a first time for everything. I’m either going to smother the fire or toss oil on it. I switch the conversation to English because I still don’t want them to know how well I speak Spanish.
“Jocelyn’s right, though. We’ll stand by you if you accept Jocelyn and me. If you don’t, then my family has no reason to help you when Enrique loses his shite. He’s still pissed about the deal you screwed up for him, and that was nearly three years ago.”
“He was a whiny kid, and he’s a whiny old man now.”
They’re about the same age, but I never guessed they’ve known each other that long. Joey gestures for me to lean forward so she can whisper in my ear.
“Their fathers hated each other, but they hated my grandfather’s rivals even more. Enrique’s father helped secure my father’s position just before Enrique’s uncle killed his own brother. My father said he’d take care of Enrique’s uncle to repay the favor, but the man disappeared into the Amazon only to resurface as the head of the major cartel in Colombia. He lives because Enrique dealt with him and made his uncle his bitch. Enrique’s pissed because he believes papá still owes him a favor.”
She fired off the story so fast, I almost missed parts. I knew about Enrique’s uncle committing fratricide and disappearing, then becoming Enrique’s vassal. I didn’t know the stuff that happened before that.
I can acknowledge Jesus and Enrique’s past without giving Jesus an inch.
“He might be a whiny old man, but you came to his home. I doubt you plan to say hello.”
“I’m here to make sure my daughter is safe. With a new wife and a chance for kids, he’ll understand.”
Kids? Nope. Not a chance. Enrique’s wife could probably still have them, but she’s not going back to that stage again. I’ll put money on that.
Joey’s not buying that either. “And now you know I’m safe, so what’re you going to do when Enrique gets angry at you?”
“You’re not safe until I see that for myself.”
There’s a quiet but insistent knock on the bedroom door. I pull away from Joey and climb off the bed. I’m silent as I cross the room and ease the door open enough to stick my head out. My dad can see my bare chest, but I don’t care.
“Jesus is on the phone.”
I more mouth it than whisper. His gaze darts over my shoulder, but he can’t see the bed from that angle. He nods before he leans close to my ear.
“You stay here, but the rest of us have to go.”
Something went wrong.
I lean back, my brow furrowed. What the fuck else could happen today?
“Whoever this is, hit your house with a drone strike. Cor, there’s next to nothing left. This was full scale destruction.”
“Who the feck did it?”
He glances over my shoulder again before his gaze meets mine. It prompts me to ask what I really don’t want to.
“Jesus?”
“Or Santiago. They knew you and Jocelyn weren’t there.”
“How do you know?”
My dad pulls a piece of folded paper from his pocket and hands it to me. I don’t have to open it all the way to recognize the Culiacán’s brand. I look up at my dad before I nod. I step back and close the door. He’ll wait for me on the other side.
I grab my pants and slip them on before walking to Joey’s side of the bed. I hold out my empty hand. I folded the paper before I turned around. Joey can’t see it.
“Jocelyn, give me?—”
“Stop calling me that. You never do, and you know I don’t like it.”
Next to never. Only when I’m scolding her, I suppose.
“What’s wrong with your name?”
That’s what finally pushes Jesus into losing his shite?
“Santi’s always called me Jo-Jo. Cormac calls me Joey.”
“But I use your name too, and you never get pissed about it.” Santiago sounds as mulish as his father now.
“You’re not Cormac.”
“Joey, give me the phone, please. The rest of the call is between your father and me. Santiago, go back to the children’s table. Jesus, you and I are not good.”
That’s as much as I dare say right now. I tap the phone and put it on mute. I show Joey they can no longer hear us.
“I have to go. Your apartment was just a test. They went after our place.”
“What do you mean ‘went after our place?’”
“There’s nothing left.”
“Who did it?”
I look down at the phone in my hand, then back up at her.
“No.” She shakes her head in disbelief.
“I have evidence that says it is. I’m going to speak to your dad on the way. I’ll find out whether he’s lying one way or another.”
“Cor, don’t underestimate him or Santi. And they can mobilize more men than you probably know. They have Guatemalans, Hondurans, and Salvadorians working for them, too.”
“We know. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I pull on the rest of my clothes after unmuting the call.
“Jesus, we’re having a sit down before I blow up something of yours in retaliation.”
“What retaliation?”
That’s the last Joey hears as I walk into the hallway where my dad’s still waiting. He points to my bedroom, but I shake my head. Instead, I point to him, then point down. I want him to stay. I can hear my uncles downstairs with the other guys. They’ll stay with him and the men patrolling today.
“I have a piece of your artwork from what’s left of my home with Joey. She could’ve been there.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Jocelyn?”
“I’m not with her anymore. It’s you and me. Santiago, you’re the one panting into the phone. Hang up, ni?o .”
He’s younger than me, but not by much. He has less experience, though. I won’t discount his training, so I don’t want him hearing all of this at the same time as his father. I don’t need them plotting simultaneously. Mexican cartels recruit young boys because once they turn eighteen, their juvenile records basically get expunged. Law enforcement can’t enforce or go after them for anything they did as a minor. It means once they’re adults, they’re fully trained and battle-tested with no legal past to shadow them.
I tap the phone screen and hang up on Santiago.
“It’s just you and me, Jesus. Blowing up my house and leaving a calling card wasn’t wise.”
“I didn’t do shit to your house.”
“That’s not what your brand on a piece of paper that landed in my yard from the drone that blew up my house says.”
“Drone? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Someone just used a drone to bomb my house. Along with it, they dropped a calling card. It’s your brand stamped on a sheet of paper.”
“You think I’d leave proof?”
“It’s not like I’m going to the police with it. My house has had an unfortunate gas leak.”
That’s the excuse we’ll use. That or I left something on the stove.
“That’s irrelevant. You think I’d confess to you if I did it?”
“Yes. It’s a warning to stay away from Joey.”
“That’s not her fucking name.”
I’m not fighting over that right now. I’ve just walked into my dad’s office where the others are waiting for me. They remain silent while I put the call back on speaker. We’ve continued in English, but speaking Spanish wouldn’t be a problem because my brother, cousins, uncles, and dad are all fluent, too. I know none of us want him to know that yet.
“You don’t deny it’s a warning.”
“I have no reason to deny that because I didn’t bomb your house.”
“Santiago likes expensive toys.”
“So do you, but I don’t believe you destroyed your own home.”
“You and Santiago admit you’ve been watching Joey and me. You’ve known we’re together. Why shouldn’t I think you’re interfering? You might not have bombed her place, but it’s not impossible to believe you bombed my place as retaliation for being with her or putting her in danger.”
“Cormac, when I retaliate, I look the man in the eye. You’ll know it’s me. You won’t be guessing.”
El Corridor . The Hunter.
Fits.
“Then who?”
“I don’t know. Believe it or not, I’m too busy to keep track of who you’re bickering with.”
“Bullshit. You made that your business the moment you found out about Joey and me.”
“I still don’t know.”
We’re not getting anywhere. Jesus must feel the same because he offers a compromise. Who knew hell froze over?
“You need me as much as I need you if we’re going to keep Jocelyn safe. Whoever the fuck this is has the huevos to attack a cartel daughter and mob girlfriend. I’ve heard the stories about your family. I may as well call her your wife.”
“You should.”
Huevos may mean eggs, but I like it better than balls. Much more accurate. I look at my dad, then Seamus. My dad nods, and my brother rolls his eyes. It’s not like that was a secret. Seamus holds out his phone, so I can see the notes app.
Tiernan and I will head over there now. We’ll see what we can learn from your place. Tonight we’ll go to J’s.
They’ll wait until it’s dark, so people aren’t as curious. Seamus may have loathed cross-examining Tiernan when they met during a trial because he poked holes in her qualifications, but we all know she’s the best at what she does. We don’t involve her often, but this isn’t the first time we’ve needed her to tell us what happened with a fire or tell us how to make sure no one pins a fire on us.
“I have some calls I need to make. Joey’s safe where she is. If I have to go out, four men from my family will be where she is.”
“You still won’t tell me. She’s my daughter, O’Rourke.”
“And until I know who did this, I trust no one who didn’t give me or doesn’t share my DNA. She might be your daughter, but she’s mine.”
Let him decide what I’m claiming. As far as I’m concerned, she’s my everything. More than my house will burn if anyone threatens her again. I’ll burn all this motherfucker down.