Chapter 20 – Alejandro
Chapter
Twenty
ALEJANDRO
Ihate hospitals. I hate everything about them.
The smell. The bright lights. The weight of all of the grief, as though the walls hold onto the memories of the pain and suffering endured here.
I’m not a superstitious man, or given to flights of fancy, but hospitals?
They make me feel sick on a deep level. Especially this one, right now, as my papa fights for his life.
I’d been looking forward to getting home.
To spending time with Lucia, to seeing Kelsey and Alana have fun together.
Mainly, to reminding my beautiful wife of exactly who I am, and who she belongs to.
That call from my mama, saying he’d been shot?
It floored me. I didn’t even believe it was true at first.
Now I need to get my head out my ass, stop feeling sorry for myself, and take control of this completely fucked-up situation.
“So, what the fuck happened?” I ask my uncles as we walk down the corridor as soon as we’re out of earshot.
My mother and my wife are not idiots, but there are some things they do not need to hear.
“He left the house in a rush this morning,” my uncle says.
“Wouldn’t even wait for his bodyguards to go with him.
Insisted on driving himself. You know how pig-headed he can be when he’s made his mind up about something, and he said he needed to come see you.
He was at a stop sign when someone pulled up alongside him and shot him.
We got all of the local CCTV, but there’s not much on it.
The shooter was on a motorcycle, which was dumped further down the road straight after.
He ran away on foot, still wearing his helmet. ”
“Fuck! Do we have any leads?” I snap.
“Do we have leads?” my Uncle Carlos hisses. “Where the fuck were you this morning, Alejandro? And why was your father so desperate to get to your hotel to see you that he took off without any of his men for protection?”
I glare at Carlos. I want to tell him to go fuck himself with his attitude, but now is not the time for our family to fall apart. “I was in New York.”
As to why he wanted to see me so urgently, I don’t know.
I’d guess though that it was something to do with our conversation about my wife.
Maybe he wanted to apologize. Maybe he wanted to kick the shit out of me for disrespecting him.
Both are things he’d want to do face-to-face, not over the phone.
He’s old school like that, along with being pig-headed, as Phillipe says.
“New York?” Carlos grunts, his face twisted. “What the fuck were you doing in New York when we have all of this mierda going on here in LA?”
“I was looking for Alana,” I say with a sigh.
“You were on the other side of the damn country chasing some puta?” Carlos snorts.
“Don’t you ever call my wife a whore!” I snarl at him through clenched teeth. He’s my uncle, and I have never laid a hand on him, but he is pushing every single one of my buttons right now.
“Carlos,” Phillipe says, quietly. The peacemaker, as usual. “Show some restraint. Now is not the time for fighting amongst ourselves.”
“Then when is the time, Phillipe? Because our brother is fighting for his life, and his idiot of a son was thousands of miles away when he needed him.” His anger drips from every word, and part of me knows he might be right.
If I’d been here, maybe my father and I would have spoken last night and settled our differences.
Maybe he went to my house to see me and I wasn’t there.
If I had been, maybe he wouldn’t be here in this goddamn hospital, but I can’t admit that to them, or even to myself right now.
There are too many maybes, and they’re helping nobody. Especially not my father.
Carlos is still raging away in a quick-fire mix of English and Spanish.
He’s probably just venting, blowing off steam.
Blaming me out of frustration. But when I hear him mention Alana’s name again, the anger surges through me like a geyser.
I grab the collar of his jacket and push him against the nearest wall, so hard his head bounces.
“What the fuck did you just say, cabrón?” I ask, my face pressed close against his. I can smell his breath and count the little veins in his eyes.
“I said, you should put that wife of yours on a leash,” he spits. “Keep her in one place long enough for you to do your family duty. She’s not worth it, Alejandro. She’s just another piece of ass.”
I pull my fist back without even thinking about it, fully intending to make contact. Phillipe’s hand is on my arm right away, exerting just enough pressure to make me pause. Long enough to think.
“Alejandro,” he says quietly but sternly in my ear. “No. Now is not the time. This is not what your father would want.”
His calm voice snaps me out of my rage, and I release Carlos from my grip. He straightens his jacket and flexes his shoulders while he glares at me. He doesn’t look scared. If anything, he looks… pleased? Like I just played right into his hands and proved his point. That I’m not good enough.
“Let’s get back to what matters,” Phillipe says, once the moment has passed. “To answer your earlier question, no. We have no leads yet. But, given recent troubles with the Ortegas, they should be our primary targets.”
I nod. “I thought that too, although this isn’t exactly the Ortegas’s style.”
“I know,” Phillipe nods his agreement. “So where does that leave us? Who else would try such a thing?”
“Jax is at the hotel now doing what he does best. We’ll find out who is responsible for this,” I tell them both.
Phillipe puts his hand on my shoulder. “I know. You’re a good son, Alejandro,” he says reassuringly. Carlos doesn’t say a word. He also doesn’t try to hide his disdain, snorting and shaking his head in disbelief before he storms off in the opposite direction.
I watch him go, wondering if he really is right. Am I a good son? Or did I inadvertently put my father in danger?
I suck in air, try not to cry. Even in front of Phillipe, I will not cry.
Inside, it’s a different story.
My father has to pull through. He has to survive. If he dies, then my last words to him were calling him a jackass and telling him to get out of my office.
That can’t be the way it ends between us. I will never be able to forgive myself if it is.