The Cartel King: A Captive Mafia Romance

by Bella King

  “You never know,” he replies, settling back into his seat and looking ahead.

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Sure, you aren’t,” he replies sarcastically.

  “What makes you think I’m so stupid?” I ask him, leaning toward him and shoving more fries into my mouth.

  “You ain’t stupid, Marybeth. You’re just inexperienced, so please, shut your mouth before I shut it for you,” he grumbles.

  “Are you mad that I stole your food?”

  He reaches out a hand and snatches the oily bag away from me. “Give me that.” He reaches into it and shoves a fistful of fries into his mouth, chewing angrily.

  “What do they feed you in prison?” I ask, studying his jaw as it grinds away at the food. His face looks like someone carved it from wood, with deep cuts and scars from years on the wrong side of the law.

  “Bread and water,” he says.

  I laugh. “That’s not true.”

  “It is,” he says, a smirk on his face. “And they only let us go out to piss once a day. The whole place smells like piss because nobody can hold it.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “You’re joking, right?”

  He turns his head toward me, flashing a set of surprisingly white teeth. “Do I look like I’m joking to you?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know you well enough to say.”

  “Then take my word for it. I’m not.”

  Should I be taking the word of a hardened criminal? I doubt it, but something about Rey makes me feel like he doesn’t want to do me any real harm. After all, he could’ve kicked me out into the road the second the cops were gone, but he kept me with him.

  Maybe he has other intentions.

  “When are you going to let me out?” I ask, grabbing another apple off the floor since he’s taken the fries from me.

  “I’m not,” he replies.

  I tilt my head down, looking at him in disbelief. “You’re really kidnapping me, aren’t you?”

  He shrugs. “If that’s what you want to call it.

  “But why?” I ask, already fearing the answer.

  “Consider yourself my insurance policy.”

  “How so?”

  He lowers his hand to his waist, yanking a silver revolver from his belt and pointing it at me.

  I jerk back, throwing my hands up with a chunk of apple still in my mouth. “Please, don’t shoot me,” I beg.

  Rey laughs with a deep, throaty voice. His smile is huge, crooked, and evil, and his eyes light up at the notion of putting a bullet through me. I’m still shocked that I ended up in a car with him, but I thought he’d let me out eventually. Now, I’m not so sure that I’ll make it through all this alive.

  I should’ve stayed with Eddy at the drive-in.

  “I’m not going to shoot you if you don’t cause trouble,” Rey says, tucking the pistol back into his jeans. “But no cop is going to shoot up this car when you’re in it with me. That’s why I call you my insurance policy.”

  I slowly begin to chew the apple in my mouth again, trying to find comfort in this crazy situation. At least Rey isn’t a crazy serial killer who likes to kidnap young women before he chops them to bits and eats them. He’s just concerned for his own safety.

  On the other hand, I don’t know if anything he has said so far is true. For all I know, his intention could be much worse than what he states it to be.

  “Just be chill, and nobody gets hurt. That’s the plan,” Rey says, digging into his bag to continue eating. “It wasn’t my intention to kidnap you, anyway.”

  I look him over, finding myself admiring his rugged looks and pale blue eyes like I did when his posters were up all over town. It isn’t my fault that he’s so handsome. He’s a heavy man with well-defined muscles, but he isn’t overly bulky. Most of the guys in my town are nothing like him. Eddy was always just a bit pudgy, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Rey is just a different breed.

  I avert my eyes when Rey looks back at me, pulling my bottle of water from between my legs to take a sip. My mouth is dry from the adrenaline, but I’m afraid if I drink too much water, then I’ll have to pee. I can never hold it for very long.

  I clamp my legs together as I feel the urge at just the thought of having to go.

  Dammit. Why did I even think about it? Now I’m going to have to ask Rey to pull over, and he might not let me. If he only got to go once a day, he might expose me to the same treatment.

  I look at the clock, clenching my teeth, and trying to think of other things. It’s been a whole half-hour since my break started, and by now, Eddy must know that I’m missing. Will he think that I just skipped work, or would he be worried about me?

  My body gets cold all of a sudden, and a rush of relaxation runs through my lower stomach. “Hey,” I say, closing the lid of my water bottle. “I need to pee.”

  “Really?” Rey asks, looking over at me doubtfully.

  “Yes,” I reply.

  “I doubt it.”

  “Why would I lie about something like that?” I ask. “I really have to pee.”

  “I can’t stop now,” he says. “The police are too close. You’ll just have to wait.”

  I groan. “Come on. I’m going to wet myself if you make me wait.”

  “Stop whining,” he replies, pressing the volume button to turn the radio on.

  Slow country music starts playing through the speakers as we drive along the narrow road.

  Rey frowns at the radio. “Don’t you people listen to anything else here?”

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “Rock music, rap, Spanish stuff, I don’t know. Anything but country.”

  “You’re in Texas,” I reply with a laugh.

  “Whatever,” he grumbles, clicking the button to shut off the familiar music.

  “I still have to pee,” I say.

  “Jesus, just wait like an hour.”

  I gasp. “I can’t wait for a whole hour!”

  “We used to wait the whole day in –”

  “I don’t care how long you were waiting in jail,” I snap. “I need to go now.”

  Chapter Eight

  Rey

  I’m starting to regret taking this woman along with me. She has no idea how dangerous it is to stop out in the middle of the desert when the police are after us. They’ll shoot first and ask questions later since there aren’t witnesses.

  I’m wanted, dead or alive.

  I slow the car down to a halt in the middle of the road, letting the engine hum idly as I wait for Marybeth to finish her business. If she runs, then I’ll have to leave her. The vultures will pick her brains out before the authorities find her. She won’t be able to rat me out.

  “Be quick,” I say, unlocking the doors to let her out.

  “I need privacy,” she says, popping open the door and scanning the vast and expanse of sand in front of her. There isn’t a shrub in sight.

  “I won’t look,” I reply, turning my head away.

  She hops out, hurrying to the side of the road while I step out of the car on the other side. I want to get a good look at the road behind us. I’ll be able to tell if the police are close by the dust rising in the air on the horizon.

  The heat hits my skin like it would if I opened an oven, rushing into my face and immediately making me sweat again. Canada sounds pretty damn good right about now.

  I look back at the car. The red metal looks like a glowing ember under the bright sun, and I wouldn’t dare touch it. I could probably cook lunch on that hood.

  I look back toward the road, giving Marybeth her desired privacy.

  The cops aren’t the only thing I have to worry about out here. They’re actually the least dangerous of my enemies, and they won’t skin me alive if they capture me. I have much bigger and more dangerous people who’d like to pay me a visit, especially after what I did six months ago.

  When I was in the Desierta Grande Correctional Facility, the cell next to me was occupied by some punk-ass from one of
the east-side cartels, a close runner-up to our cocaine operations over the border. If that guy knows that I’m gone, then I can guarantee that half the cartels in the US and Mexico know that I’m gone too.

  And they’re not coming after me in broken-down cop cars from ten years ago. They’re driving supercharged trucks with piles of machine guns in the back. They’ll shoot me just as fast as they see me. For Marybeth, they’ll do so much worse.

  I turn my head just enough to see out of the corner of my eye, but Marybeth’s red and white checkered shirt fails to come into view. She can’t have run off already. She must realize that it would be a death sentence to make a run for it in this blistering sun.

  I turn my head all the way, looking over the car and seeing nothing. I frown. Where the fuck is she?

  “Marybeth?” I ask, looking into the car to check if she returned without me noticing.

  “I’m almost done,” I hear her voice call from somewhere nearby.

  “Where are you?” I ask, relieved that she hasn’t tried to run. I didn’t want to leave her for dead.

  “I’m not finished,” she yells back.

  I scoff. “I didn’t ask you if you…” I trail off, finally noticing the top of her dirty-blonde hair sticking out from the sand, just behind the decline off the road. It blends in with the rest of the desert.

  I sigh, stepping back into the car and shutting the door, allowing the cabin to fill with the cold air from the new A/C that I requested be put in the car before I picked it up. If I didn’t have it, we’d be toast within two hours on the desert highway.

  The red lettering on the clock draws my attention. It’s already been four minutes. It doesn’t take that long to pee. What on earth is that woman doing out there?

  I groan, kicking open the door with my leather boot and stepping back out into the sweltering heat. I’m not in the mood to play games with Marybeth. She should know better than to try.

  The engine’s heat causes me to walk the long way around the car, circling around from behind to avoid baking like cookie dough from the excruciating temperature. I call out Marybeth’s name, but this time, I don’t get a response.

  “Shit,” I mutter, shaking my head. That’s another one for the vultures.

  Chapter Nine

  Marybeth

  My feet hit the hard, cracked dirt, leaving almost no footprints behind as I dash toward the road parallel to the bright red Mustang, just a half a mile in the distance. I don’t know whether I’ll make it there before Rey notices that I’m gone, or if he’ll even bother coming after me, but I’m not slowing down.

  The water in my bottle sloshes around violently as I run. Sweat is already pouring down my face, and my shirt is sticking to my back. It feels good to run, though, after being cramped up in the car with Rey, scared out of my wits that he would hurt me.

  My short breaths turn to long pants before I’m even a quarter of the way across the desert expanse. I shouldn’t have skipped track and field in school. That, plus the years of eating at the drive-in are rearing their ugly heads into my escape attempt, slowing me down as I feel my legs start to give up on me.

  Running back and forth between the building and cars at the drive-in clearly wasn’t enough to get me across this gap in good time. I’m losing speed, and I feel like my lungs are sucking in fire instead of oxygen.

  I yank the bandana from my back pocket and wipe my forehead, probably smearing dirt across my face in the process, but I don’t care how I look. I won’t be getting tips for my charming smiles and prompt service anymore, now that I’m stranded miles away from work.

  “Marybeth!”

  I hear Rey’s deep voice rumbling across the dry earth, but I don’t even turn my head to see if he’s coming after me. I have to focus on the road ahead. If I can just get to the other side of this plane, then I might be able to wave down another car for help.

  That’s if anyone is out there. Maybe Rey will just roll up and shoot me with that shiny silver revolver instead. I guess it beats being picked apart by vultures while I’m struggling to crawl through the sand in this heat.

  The lactic acid has built up in my legs to the point where it feels like I’m dragging thick steel rods through the desert instead of calves, and I’m sweating so much that I doubt the water left in my bottle will last me more than ten minutes out here.

  I squint through the droplets of sweat stinging my eyes at the road ahead of me. I’m nearly halfway there, and I see a truck sitting there, not moving in the street. That’s odd because people typically don’t stop in the road unless they’re getting out to toss something or pee.

  I cup my hand over my eyes to block the glare from the sun, attempting to get a better look as I slow to a jog.

  It’s not one truck. It’s two, and men are standing outside of them, holding something in their hands.

  I stop, bending over and wiping the dripping sweat from my face with my shirt instead of my bandana. It’s not much better, but it’s dry.

  When I look up, my vision is clear enough to see what the men are holding.

  My stomach sinks, and suddenly I regret running from Rey. He might be one of the most dangerous men in the country, but that doesn’t mean he wanted to kill me. He would’ve done that already if that were his plan.

  These men, on the other hand, don’t look like uncover cops or even bounty hunters. They’re all holding rifles in their hands with magazines long enough to double as clubs, and they look like to be straight out of the cartel.

  I twist around to look back at the red mustang on the road, checking if Rey is coming for me.

  He’s not, and for some reason, that makes me feel even worse. My stomach is a twisted knot of confusion and anxiety as I watch Rey wave his hand from the car, urging me to return to him.

  Why?

  The thin sound of a gunshot across the desert plane causes me to jump. At first, I don’t understand what’s going on, but once I look back to the two trucks parked in the road, I realize that the men there have taken aim at me, and they show no hesitation in shooting to kill.

  All hope that I’ve run into anyone other than cartel members has been wiped clean and replaced with panic. I spin around and run again, kicking up dirt behind me as I peel across the desert landscape.

  I run so fast that my body screams for more air, even if it’s hot enough to turn my lungs to charcoal. I’m breathing so hard that my lungs feel like they could tear, and yet, I keep going. I have no other choice.

  I can already hear the trucks behind me, rolling over rocks and sand as they turn off the road in pursuit of me. At this rate, they’ll catch me before I can get back to the car.

  I look up, but I don’t see Rey anymore. He must’ve gotten into his car.

  “Rey,” I yell as loud as my aching lungs will let me. “Wait for me!”

  I stumble over a root sticking out from the ground but manage to steady myself and keep from faceplanting. That would’ve sealed my fate for sure.

  I look up to see the mustang slowly start to roll forward on the road.

  “Oh, God! Please, don’t leave me!” I scream, jumping as another gunshot rings out in the air behind me to punctuate my plea.

  My face feels like an overripe peach in the summer sun, and the sweat is starting to blur my vision again. If Rey leaves me behind, I’m going to die.

  I look back, and the trucks are so close that I can see the faces of the men behind the wheel. I would take Rey any day over these men. Their faces are dark and wrinkled from the sun like raisins, and they are wearing nasty grins from ear to ear. They look like the type of men who would slit your throat just to watch the blood flow.

  The scream of an engine tears through my thoughts, and my head swivels forward to see Rey’s red Mustang kicking up dust behind him as he jumps the ditch by the road and flies toward me. I didn’t think I’d ever be so thrilled to see him barreling toward me like this, but I am.

  “They’re shooting,” I yell, pointing behind me as Rey pulls up be
side me. I yank open the door and repeat myself as I jump into the passenger’s seat.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. What the hell were you doing out there? Trying to escape?” he asks, slamming his foot on the gas.

  My head sinks back into the headrest, and I fall silent. I don’t want to admit that I was trying to run away from him, but it’s obvious. Still, I try to lie. “I saw a snake,” I say, making up the first lie that comes to my head.

  “You also saw the cartel,” Rey says, jumping the Mustang back up onto the road.

  I bounce in my seat, barely able to stay put as he rips across the road, engine roaring as loud as ever. “They were just stopped there, across the street, and then they started shooting at me,” I tell him as he focuses on the road ahead. “Are they with you?”

  He laughs, his large hands gripping the steering wheel like iron clamps. “Not a fucking chance.”

  “But you’re the cartel boss, right?” I ask, growing confused.

  “I’m a cartel boss,” he clarifies. “Those fuckers are probably from the east precinct. Not friends of mine, in other words.”

  “Why are they chasing us?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at the trucks trailing the Mustang.

  “No time for questions,” he replies, his face etched in a deep scowl. His expression grows even more grave as he glances down through the steering wheel. “We’re in trouble,” he grumbles.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” I ask, panic creeping into my body like poison.

  “We’re almost out of gas,” he says.

  “Are they going to catch us?” I ask, looking back at the trucks behind us. They’re trailing us closely, and Rey seems unable to shake them like he did the cop cars.

  Rey’s teeth are clenched so tight that I can see his jaw muscles dancing beneath the stubbled skin of his cheeks.

  “Are they going to catch us, Rey? Are they?” I yelp, digging my fingers into the headrest as I watch the trucks behind us.

  Rey sighs, letting his foot off the gas. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but those bastards aren’t giving me any other choice,” he growls.