by Rachel Renee
“Are you familiar with the new engines?”
“I made sure you got the paperwork, didn’t I? Luis is a good man, and he’s working for the right side.”
“I pondered why he was so adamant I had papers that didn’t belong to me. I was curious who he worked for.”
“I’ve known Luis for a long time. I trust him.”
“Does he work for you? For us?”
“If I say he does.”
“What does that mean?”
“If I ask him for something, he does it. Otherwise, he’s just the company mail liaison.”
“Does he do jobs for anyone else?”
“Not that I know of.”
“But you don’t know for sure?”
Dom pulls his lower lip in and bites down on it. His head moves before his mouth opens. “No, I don’t know for sure.” It comes out nearly silent, but we both know what could come of the fact he’s not entirely certain.
10
TIME IS GOING by pretty quickly here. The case isn’t keeping me as occupied as I’d hoped, and the connections have been slow to create, but I’m surprised by the amount of work my faux job includes. I may be a real engineer by the time I finish this mission. Dom said his wife and the girls left for the in-law’s house for the weekend and he wanted to take me out on the town. I ventured here and there, but this is the first time I’ve been asked to hang out with Dominico outside of ‘work.’ Not entirely certain what going out with him entails, I put on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with navy stripes for the occasion.
Dom drug me out to dinner at a little café down the street. The food was so authentic and good I felt like I would explode when we were finished. After two baskets of warm tortilla chips with sides of queso, guacamole, and some sort of refried bean dip smothered in spicy salsa, our meals were delivered. The sizzling plate was heaped with arrachera steak, chicken, shrimp, chorizo, nopal, queso, onions, and peppers. If that wasn’t enough, we each got a plate of rice and beans and tortillas to shove the contents into.
Next, we went to a local watering hole, where we had a rather large glass of their house beer. It was awful. It took everything I had to force it down and keep it down. When we ended up where we are now, I told Dom I needed to slow down on the drinking. Not that I’m drunk, but with the amount of food I ate, topped with that awful beer, I don’t want my night to end up with my head in the toilet. Especially in the toilet of this establishment.
At the moment, Dom is in the middle of the dancefloor, grinding against some random woman. I can’t help but wonder what type of relationship he has with his wife that would allow him to feel comfortable enough to be so intimate with another woman. Eliza isn’t possessive, I’m not the type either, but the way he’s moving with the lady in the barely-there dress is making me uncomfortable. I sip the drink in front of me and scan the room for the fifteenth time. I’m thankful I wore a t-shirt as my forehead is dripping sweat as it is. This place doesn’t feel as if it has air conditioning and even if it does, it’s not on. I’ll be five pounds lighter by the time we leave this sauna.
I look in Dom’s direction once more, hoping to catch his eye. My drink is nearly gone and I’ve had enough fun for one evening. His mouth glides along the woman’s neck and I have to look away. I’m kind of ashamed.
“It’s just dancing.” I stare up into the sweet face of Selena, who is smiling amusingly at me.
“That’s more than dancing.”
“A thousand to one he has no feelings for that woman whatsoever.”
“He’s at least attracted to her.”
She shrugs. “Other than dancing, it won’t go anywhere.”
“How do you know?”
“I know the men around here.”
I raise my brows.
“I mean, how they think and act. Dancing is part of the culture. If your friend is married, he won’t step out on his wife.”
“How do you know all of this?”
Her grin turns sinister as she pulls out a stool and sits on it. “I’m just guessing. I don’t truly know.”
Something tells me she actually does. “You had me going there for a minute.” I give her a look to match her own. “Who are you here with?”
No sooner than those words leave my mouth, I notice Miguel, Mustache, and another man I don’t know approaching from the bar area. I’m surprised by their appearance because I’d been doing a pretty decent job of scoping out the patrons and there was no sign of them a few minutes ago.
“Liam.” Miguel reaches out his hand to shake mine.
“Hey, Thiago,” I greet the other man. He tilts his head back but doesn’t respond verbally.
The third man eyes me suspiciously but reaches his hand out anyway to introduce himself. “Javier,” he announces. He tries to squeeze my hand but I won’t allow it.
I shake and then pull back. “Nice to meet you.”
He says something in Spanish but I don’t comprehend the words over the music and the fact he’s turned more toward Thiago than me.
“Mind if we join you?” Thiago pulls out another chair and takes a seat. Miguel and Javier do the same.
Just when I thought my night was over, looks like it’s just beginning. A waitress stops momentarily and drops off a bottle of beer for each of us. The men pull theirs up for a swig, but I hold mine still, waiting for someone to speak.
“How do you know Dominico?” Miguel questions.
“The apartment,” I answer as Thiago states, “He works in the plant.”
“You know Dom?” I turn the question to Thiago.
“Apparently, not as well as you do.”
“He’s showing me around the area. Getting me acquainted with my new surroundings.”
“Doesn’t look like you’re enjoying it.” Thiago eyes me before he looks out into the crowd at Dom, who is still smashed against his dancing partner.
“Not much of a dancer,” I respond.
“That’s a shame,” Thiago states. “Selena was hoping for a spin around the floor. Guess she’ll have to settle for a real man. One who knows what he’s doing with a woman.”
I know he’s trying to get me riled up, but that won’t work. Shrugging my shoulders, I pull the drink back to my mouth and taking a swig. I see Thiago’s jaw clench, the muscles bulging in his cheeks. He grabs ahold of Selena’s bicep and practically drags her from the stool, spilling her beer in the process.
Miguel tells him to watch what he’s doing but then laughs at his friend and ushers the couple away from the table while grabbing napkins and cleaning up the mess. I feel my jaw tighten as I watch Thiago with Selena. She’s pulling back, like she doesn’t want to go, he’s pulling forward like he doesn’t care what she wants.
“Watch out, ojos Locos.”
Miguel is staring at me when I look back to the table. “He definitely doesn’t know how to treat a woman,” I mumble.
“No one crosses Thiago and lives to tell about it.”
“He doesn’t frighten me.”
“He should. If you only knew…”
“Enlighten me.”
Miguel stares at me as if he’s uncertain of what I’m asking.
“If I’m to be fearful of him, I want to know why,” I add.
“He knows people.”
I raise my brow.
“In high places,” he continues.
I don’t change the expression I’m giving. Miguel is not giving me enough info.
“You mess with Thiago, you oppose the cartel.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “Cartel?” I question.
“I’m sure you are aware of the Mexican cartel.”
“I’ve heard rumors. I’ve never met any.” The lie is an easy one.
A sly look slides across Miguel’s and Javier’s faces. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”
I change my look to one of shock. “Really?” Both heads are shaking up and down. “You?” I ask, pointing to both men, one by one, continuing to act stunned by their
admittance. They nod their heads and grin.
“You had better keep that to yourself,” Javier shouts over the song that just started to bump even louder through the speaker above.
I make the lips-shut-and-locked gesture. “I thought I could trust you. Selena says you’re good people,” Miguel admits.
She often visits me in the evenings with the cover of bringing me a drink. She doesn’t stay long, just enough time to allow Miguel to get home so she doesn’t have to spend alone time with Thiago, who always seems to be waiting for Miguel to get home before he goes out himself.
I shrug at Miguel’s comment, pulling my drink back and taking a swig. I tilt it out to the men and they clink my bottle with theirs, before all three of us take a long draw. Both men seem more relaxed and I’m feeling good about the turn of tonight’s events. I let the thump of the music, the bass reverberating in my ears, be comforting while finishing off my drink. The empty bottle is pushed to the middle of the table moments before a whole new round is placed in front of me. The new drink may be one too many so I have no plans to actually consume it.
Looking up, I spy Dom, who’s finally back from his escapade on the dancefloor. Selena and Thiago have approached as well. The woman Dom was grinding with is nowhere to be seen.
“Where’d your partner go?” I ask Dom when he bends his head down close to mine.
“Home.” Dom takes the seat closest to me. We’re almost shoulder to shoulder when he settles in.
“You met my friends?” he asks into my ear.
I answer with my head.
“Good,” he replies.
He knows I know them, besides Javier, so what’s he playing at?
The smell of sweat and beer overpower the table, and after the amount of alcohol I’ve had, I’m sure my own personal odor is mixed in with that as well. I wipe the sweat from my brow and swig from the new bottle I’ve been gifted. Glancing around the table as the music continues to blast through the room, I see each man looking in my direction. No one is talking, indifferent expressions on each face. Do they want something from me?
I don’t know where to begin. If I’m too eager to learn about the cartel from them, they might seem suspicious of me. Will they have the same feeling if I don’t talk about it at all? Fuck it!
“How do you all know each other?”
Dom elbows me, but I don’t think anyone else notices in the dimly lit bar. “We work together,” Thiago boasts.
“I didn’t know you worked at the factory.” I look Miguel dead in the eye.
Thiago answers from beside him. “No. Not there.”
I feign ignorance. “Oh. You have multiple jobs.”
“We have jobs. We also have careers.” I want to laugh at the fact this man thinks drug-running is a career. “Dom there, can fill you in. Don’t want everyone knowing our business.”
I look at the man on my right. I suspected Dom was part of the cartel, but to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth…I’m not certain how I feel about it. “Cartel,” Dom mouths. “Drug runners.”
“And producers,” Thiago adds. “Some of us.” He winks at Miguel. “We figured we better let you in on our little secret as we’re going to be working with you at the plant.”
“What does the plant have anything to do with this?”
“How do you think we export our product?”
My mouth falls open at their blatant disregard for secrecy. Thiago and Javier laugh. These men are idiots. Or maybe they’re simply confident in the fact I will help them without question. I take a peek at Selena, who hasn’t said a word this whole time. She’s sitting back on the stool, biting her lower lip and staring straight at me. Is she in on this too? Is that why she’s visiting? She never breaks our stare, but eventually I do, looking back at Thiago, who seems at this moment to be the mastermind of this little group.
“How does this involve me?”
“You’re building our engines. You will make them exactly how we ask, or there will be consequences.” It has been almost two months since I received the plans from the previous engines. The ones asking for the crankshaft to be removed. They were plans designed for the last engineer. Ones he never received, or, if he did, maybe that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I wondered when it would all come together. When they’d finally trust me enough to command me to create what they needed.
Mustache is leaning over the table, the stack of bottles in the middle keeping him from reaching all the way across it, but his menacing look is meant to frighten me. Javier and Miguel lift shiny silver items from below the table, the barrel of each of them pointing directly at my chest.
“I understand.”
“Diaz made too many mistakes. He told too many people and now he’s lost in the desert. If you don’t want to join him,” Thiago roars over the music, “you’ll do exactly as we ask and nothing more.”
“No hay problema,” I respond in the native tongue.
“That’s exactly what I thought you’d say.” Thiago falls back into his barstool, attempting a sly wink in Dom’s direction. The other men replace their weapons back where they got them from.
Over the music, I hear Dom sigh beside me. How does he fit in this? He knows who I work for, truly. Is he a team player or a narc, in both senses of the word? I have a feeling he’s responsible for these men finally reaching out to me. What part does he play in the cartel?
We all finish our beers in silence, allowing the song to fill the void of our conversation. Thiago and Javier are the first to exit the table, bidding us goodnight before disappearing into the crowd. Selena continues to stare at me, but I only see her out of the corner of my eye. What does she make of all this? They must trust her or she wouldn’t be here, she wouldn’t have heard what was said.
Dom elbows me again, shouting in my ear that he’s ready to go. I take the last dregs of my beer before standing from my seat. “See you around,” I yell out to Miguel and Selena. They look to each other and back to me before responding. There’s more to that relationship as well. I’ve learned some much-needed intel tonight, but there’s still much more to figure out. Each person has a role and I need to pinpoint exactly how they fit into the cartel and who I can get to trust me enough to let me in on more than just the basics.
11
WE WALK in silence through the streets of Chihuahua City. The buildings are mostly rundown in this section, bars on doors and windows, otherwise broken and shattered in the alleyways and along the fractured sidewalks. Streetlights appear every so often, but the darkness makes me wonder what is lingering in the black of night. I hadn’t realized we ended up so far from our apartments, but just as I think those thoughts, familiarity comes sneaking in. The grocery store, the restaurants I’ve eaten in or grabbed food from, and light cascading the streets from the lamps and dwellings of the area I’m living in.
“We’re going to talk about tonight, at some point.” I finally speak, the silence no longer welcome.
“Lo se.”
“I’m not really sure what to make of you,” I admit.
“I’m not a traitor, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“You are to someone.” I turn my head so I can look at him. “Let’s sober up a bit and meet for breakfast. We can talk about it then.”
The apartment entrance is in sight and the two of us have fallen silent once more. We enter the door together, and he goes one way and I go the other without a “goodnight.”
I tiptoe past Miguel’s apartment, wondering if Mustache is inside. I don’t know if he lives there or just stays from time to time. I’m baffled by him. The way he treated me the first time we met, to now, and the information he gave out tonight, so freely. I think of the short amount of time I’ve known him. When Dom saw him in the parking lot the other day, he seemed afraid to let him see the two of us conversing (and that wasn’t the first time), but I feel like tonight could have been a setup. We ended up in that bar because Dom planned for me to have a conversation with Thiago an
d his crew. Dom’s a part of that equation. Can I trust he won’t give me away?
I send a quick message to Thompson, asking for more information on my contact. With any luck, I’ll have it by the time I raise from the dead. Falling into bed, I kick off my shoes and pull my t-shirt over my head. I should take my jeans off but now that I’m lying against the mattress, the thought doesn’t sound appealing. I don’t pull the covers over me. The humidity of the night has followed me in and sweat is dripping from multiple parts of my body. Sleep comes immediately. I feel it in my limbs as they settle, the laziness of my thoughts…
Bright light shines through the open blinds. My head is ringing and so are my ears. Mexican beer doesn’t seem to agree with me. Maybe it will take a while to get used to, or maybe I should just stick with the hard stuff. I check my messages before I roll out of bed. Thompson hasn’t responded. I send a text to Dom, asking if he’s up yet. I need answers—hopefully, one of those two will feed me some.
I take a cool shower and wash the dampness of the heat off of me. By the time I’ve gotten dressed for the day, I still haven’t heard from Dom. While the coffee is brewing, I grab a couple of aspirin and drink a bottle of water to wash them down.
My stomach grumbles so I eat a bowl of Cheerios to curb my appetite. I turn on the television and watch some telenovela while I drink my coffee. When it hits noon and I still haven’t heard from Dom, I message him again. He could still be recovering from our night out, but the feeling I have in my gut says something different. He wasn’t drunk when we parted ways and he doesn’t seem like the type to sleep a day away.
The window in the kitchen overlooks the left side of the parking lot, where Dom has been parking the truck. When I look out it, I notice his vehicle is not in its normal spot. He’s gone somewhere.
I try to call my supervisor. I want some information and I’m tired of waiting. He doesn’t pick up so I leave a cryptic message, one he will know how to decode, and hang up. Next, I try Thompson. His line goes straight to voicemail which means it’s off or he’s dodging me.
My laptop is the next avenue for answers. Opening up the encrypted server, I search for Dominico Sanchez. I try to narrow down the amount appearing before me, but even then I have over one thousand men to search through. I’m not usually quick to anger, but the frustration of not being able to find answers when I need them has my heart pounding.
