I drew back with an audible swallow. He didn’t treat me the way others did, yet despite his steely expression and cool gaze, my gut told me he didn’t mean it. He only wanted a reaction. Could I trust that instinct, though? In my experience, cartel bosses didn’t tease.
And they didn’t invite women in skimpy dresses anywhere private to talk.
The dark cloud that’d just fallen over him seemed to lift. “With me, you always have a choice. You’re not beholden to my wishes, but I hope you’ll still carry them on your wings and deliver them for me.” He brushed hair from my cheek, trailing a fingertip over my skin in a way that I had to fight to keep my eyes from falling shut. “Just know that I don’t rely on anyone, not even the heavens, to grant my wishes. I make them come true on my own.”
He retreated a few steps, holding my gaze, before he turned and walked away.
I hung on his words. What were his wishes? What did they have to do with me? I stayed where I was despite my urge to call him back and ask the questions forming in my head.
Because nothing good could come from chasing after el anticristo.
Especially if he was saying what I thought he was.
If you’re what I want, then I’ll find a way to have you.
Natalia
Diego’s hand slipped higher up my dress as the glowing red hand of his speedometer rose. He sped away from the club through deserted roads as if he also knew of the after-dark danger Cristiano had warned me of.
Only the warm lights of the dashboard glowed against its all-black interior. Silence stretched over the smooth hum of his Mercedes once I’d finished relaying most of my conversation with Cristiano. All in all, there wasn’t much to tell.
“Are you okay?” Diego asked for the second time.
“I’m fine.” Because you’re a survivor. Like the monarch. Like me. Cristiano’s words echoed in my mind.
“He kept touching you because he knew I was there.” He released my leg to grip the steering wheel. “I assumed he’d frisk you, but that’s all.”
I wouldn’t even call what he’d done frisking. Cristiano had tested my boundaries as he’d taunted Diego. He’d had his hands everywhere from my ankles to my thighs, my neck and face. He’d touched me in ways only Diego should.
And Diego had let him—or had he not seen well enough the liberties Cristiano had taken with my body? “Cristiano said next time he frisks me, he won’t stop his hands at the gates of heaven, even if you’re watching.”
“Heaven?” Diego’s nostrils flared as he hit the steering wheel. “Let him try. I’ll cut off his devil hands.” He snorted not unlike a Pamplona bull. “Not that you’ll ever be in that position again.”
I wasn’t sure what aroused me more—Diego’s possessiveness or the idea of Cristiano boldly taking what didn’t belong to him. I only knew that what aroused me, also horrified me. What was wrong with me for getting excited Cristiano might want me when his brother already had me? The same Cristiano who, the last decade, I’d vehemently hated? I shifted in the leather seat. “He only said it to scare me,” I said. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“I know. Still . . . I should knock his teeth out.” Diego massaged around his nose. “It wasn’t easy to watch. He knows you’re mine and that you’re the quickest way to get under my skin.”
“He only thinks of me as a weapon against you.” And if anyone knew how to wield a weapon, it was Cristiano. “I’m sorry I didn’t get more information.”
“You were perfect.” He glanced over at me, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes. “Cristiano didn’t scare you, did he?”
He’d tried. But had he succeeded? With his comments about Natasha and about how he could have me if he wanted, what unnerved me most was that I wasn’t scared. “No.”
A dog darted into the street. Diego hit the brakes, and I outstretched my arms to catch myself against the glove compartment.
“Shit. Sorry,” he said as he decelerated for a yellow light. “You all right?”
I glanced behind us for the dog, but it was gone. “Yes.”
Diego stopped the car at an intersection and slid his hand in mine. “You look so beautiful tonight. I can’t say I blame him for being so forward. As angry as it makes me, I feel lucky to be the one who gets to take you home.”
“Always,” I said.
“It’s good you didn’t go anywhere with him.” Diego’s phone rang. He released my hand to get it from his pocket as he reiterated, “I would’ve beaten him half to death if he’d tried to get you alone.” He swiped his thumb across the screen and held it to his ear. “Bueno.”
As Diego listened to the line, I turned my head toward the faint strains of buoyant violin and guitarrón coming from a corner market. Mariachi music didn’t always remind me of the moments before I’d skipped down the hall to hurry my mother for the parade, but in that moment, I saw Cristiano standing in the bedroom, dressed in all black, rising from the ashes. Out front of the mercado, a few men smoked, drank, and blared a boombox. Despite opaque, bulletproof windows, I got a chill when one of the men opened his jacket and flashed a gun in our direction. I’d never liked riding around in showy cars when poverty permeated our state.
“I’m not far, but I have Natalia,” Diego said into the phone. “I’ll drop her off and come.” The stoplight changed to green, but he didn’t move. “No. I want everyone on site.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Some issue at the fucking warehouse,” he whispered to me. He paused, listening. “No, don’t send one of them. I don’t trust them around Natalia. Can you break into it?” He snorted. “Claro que no. I’ll be there in an hour. Just move on to something else until I’m back.” He hung up, dropped the phone into a cup holder, and stepped on the gas.
“Is that the warehouse with all the Maldonados’ stock?” I asked.
“Sí. We moved it all to one spot since none of our regular houses are safe right now. Then it’s all going al otro lado—into the U.S.—at once.” He rested an elbow on the door panel and bit his thumbnail, steering with one hand. “Every call I get, I worry something else has gone wrong.”
“Who was on the phone?”
“Jojo. We transported everything to the new location in armored vehicles,” he said. “I have the only set of keys to the truck they need to get into right now—and of course, it’s impenetrable, so they can’t break in, puta madre.”
I glanced through the windshield. “You said we’re close?”
“We just passed the turnoff.”
“When does everything need to go?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.” He shook his head out the window. “They’re loading everything tonight.”
I reached over to knead the back of his neck with one hand. “Go to the warehouse. Drop off the keys.”
He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Isn’t everyone in the cartel there guarding it?” I argued.
“Not everyone. In case the hits were due to a leak—which I don’t believe—I only have my most trustworthy men there.”
“Then what’s the danger?”
“No matter how many precautions we have in place,” he said, slowing for another red light, “with all the product consolidated in one location, all the risk is there too.”
“We’re still twenty minutes from the house, which means it would take you forty round trip to get back. This is a priority.”
The stoplight changed to green, but he just scratched his chin. “Which won’t matter if Costa kills me for taking you to the warehouse.”
“He thinks I’m still at the movie theater for a Star Wars triple-feature.” I checked the clock on the dash—half past nine. “Right about now, Pilar and I are finishing Attack of the Clones. The next episode is almost two-and-a-half hours.”
“Dios mío. You know the runtime and everything?” He reached over to squeeze my knee in the exact spot I was ticklish. I laughed as I squirmed. “Are you this devious in the States?�
� he asked.
I leaned over the console, batting my lashes up at him. “You’ll soon find out.”
Someone honked behind us for sitting at a green light before swerving past. Diego barely noticed.
“Mmm.” He nuzzled my nose with his, then kissed me softly, sweetly. “You make a good argument, my little C-3PO, but I don’t want to risk it.” He brushed my hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. “Even if nothing happens, I don’t want anyone to see you there. If it gets back to Costa, or if the wrong person sees you unguarded—”
“I just faced off with Cristiano by myself,” I pointed out. “I’ll be fine. I’ll wait in the car. Just go. It’ll take five minutes.”
“Not even. I’ll have Jojo come out and get the keys.” Diego sighed, resigned. “You’re tough.”
“This is good practice for when we’re married and I win all our arguments.”
He scoffed, seizing my leg again. I squealed, grabbing his wrist as I backed against the door. “Tickling is off-limits.”
“I don’t think so, princesa,” he said but smiled and released me. He checked his rearview mirror and swerved into the next lane. Ignoring the red arrow, he flipped the car around to zoom back the way we’d come. The men loitering outside the tienda were gone, but as we whizzed by, I could’ve sworn I heard the echo of mariachi music.
In under ten minutes, we were at the edge of town and approaching a sprawling concrete block. Surrounded by desert, it seemed to have risen from the ground.
“I’m going to park in back so nobody sees you,” Diego said, slowing to turn down a dark road. “Do you see a black fob in the center console?”
I opened it and sorted through several sets of keys until I found the one he needed. He rolled down his window and stuck it out as we pulled up to an industrial looking metal gate. As it slid open, Diego killed the headlights and parked in an unlit backlot. He quickly sent off a text, then reclined the driver’s seat a little and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
It was the second time I’d noticed him do it since we’d gotten in the car. “Do you have a headache?”
“Yeah. I’m just tired and feeling queasy.” He squinted through the windshield. “I’ve barely slept in days. Every time I close my eyes, I think of what’ll happen if tomorrow doesn’t go well.”
“Come here.” I unfastened my seatbelt to give him the best sideways hug I could and kissed his cheek. “You’re almost there. By this time tomorrow, the shipment will be on its way and you’ll be that much closer to pulling off the most impressive deal the Cruz cartel has ever seen.”
He turned his head to graze the tips of our noses. “And then?” he asked.
“And then it’s you and me with nothing ahead of us but our future.”
He tilted his head and kissed me gently. “I love the sound of that. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I said. Enough to die for you, a voice in my head said. The fortune teller. Why did she still haunt me when I knew her words held no truth?
A knock at the driver’s side made me jump back with a gasp. I clutched my throat, my heart pounding.
“It’s just Jojo,” Diego said, patting my thigh. I could barely make out a figure until Diego rolled the window down.
Jojo, one of Diego’s foremen, nodded at me. “¿Qué tal, Talia?”
Even though my heart pounded from the scare, I nodded. “Todo bien. All good.”
“How’s it going in there?” Diego asked, passing Jojo the keys.
Jojo wiped his hairline, leaving a grease mark on his forehead. “One of the semi engines is fucked. We’re working on it.”
“Where’s the mechanic?” Diego asked.
“Not picking up his phone, but don’t worry, jefe. We’ll get him here.”
“You checked the fuel and oil levels? The battery?” Diego asked, his brows cinched.
“Yeah, I didn’t, but Tomás knows all that shit and I think he—”
“Did he disengage the lock?”
Jojo showed us his grimy palms. “I dunno.”
“Tell him to try that,” Diego said. “If it doesn’t work, check the ECM ground wire.”
“What the fuck is that?” Jojo asked, wetting his finger to rub grease off his wrist.
“Come on, cabrón. Like I don’t have enough on my plate?” Diego blew out a sigh. “I’ll text Tomás.”
Seeing the veins pop in Diego’s hands and neck as he gripped the steering wheel, I caressed his right forearm. “Go look at it,” I said. “I’ll be fine here for a few minutes.”
“Maybe if I didn’t hire such dumb motherfuckers,” Diego muttered.
Diego didn’t mean it—he cared a great deal for his men—and Jojo knew it. Jojo smiled with a shrug. “Sorry I couldn’t afford to go to college for engines.”
Diego rolled his eyes. “Wait there,” he said and raised the window before turning to me. “Are you sure? It’s dark out here, and you can’t turn on the lights or someone might see you. I know that scares you.”
Nothing happened in the dark. That was part of why it frightened me—not knowing whose footsteps were coming or going, or who might be at my back, or whether the right or wrong person had found me until it was too late to do anything about it. When Barto had come rushing down the tunnel ladder for me, I hadn’t known who he was until he’d held the flashlight under his chin. The shadows had created a ghoulish, haunting mask that hadn’t looked at all like the Barto I’d grown up around. I’d gone with him willingly, relieved to have been found, but part of me had questioned him—and everything—until we’d emerged from the tunnel into the closet. Doors had been broken down, my mother’s body had been covered, and Papá had crushed me to him for a breathless hug.
I wished there were at least lamps in the lot, but if I said that, Diego would stay when he was clearly needed inside. “I’m not nine anymore,” I told him. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll just go talk to Tomás and come right back.” He leaned over to peck me once more. “Okay?”
“Go.”
The dome light came on as he switched off the engine and handed me the keys. “If you see anything—anything at all—get the fuck out of here.”
“Without you?” I asked.
“Yes.” He shut off the light and the car went pitch dark. Not even a sliver of moonlight touched the area. He passed me the keys with the fob. “These are for the gate and the warehouse. Nothing will happen, but I don’t care if a jackrabbit hops by and looks at you funny. Just go.”
I nodded, gripping the keys. “Got it.”
“Lock the door after me and keep the lights off.” When he ducked out, I hit a button on the roof to plunge the car back into darkness. I barely made out his shadow as he met Jojo at the back door and disappeared inside the warehouse.
With desert all around me, it might’ve felt as if I was in the middle of nowhere, but I had to remember there were many people here. Specifically, men with guns who’d been hired by my father. They wouldn’t let anything bad happen. They were on our side.
Then again, Cristiano had been too when he’d left me in the dark.
Even though it was hard to see, nothing would ever be as pitch-black as the underground tunnel. At least now, I wasn’t covered in blood and on the precipice of a future that’d been dimmed significantly. I’d hugged my knees to my chest and tried to stop picturing all the vibrant colors of my mom’s dress darkened with blood. What if I’d been ten minutes earlier? Or had heard the shot? Would it have changed anything?
The only thing I’d actually seen in that tunnel had been Barto’s shadowed face. All I’d heard was his voice, oddly as cajoling as Cristiano’s hours earlier, my own sobs, and the pests scampering around me.
As my chest tightened with panic, I coaxed myself to breathe through it. But no matter how many times I told myself I was too old to be afraid of the dark, fears as deeply rooted as mine knew no age.
With a piercing screech of metal scraping metal, I spun in my seat to look out the back windo
w but saw nothing. My heartbeat echoed in my ears. I turned forward again. The time on the dash changed. In an alternate universe, Pilar and I were starting Revenge of the Sith. I closed my eyes and hummed the opening bars to Star Wars.
Like a clap of thunder, rumbling motorcycle engines jarred me back to reality. As two bikes pulled up to the driver’s side, I ducked into a ball on the floorboard. It went silent again. A large shadow passed Diego’s window. My heart pounded as the other biker approached. Keys jingled from somewhere. A silhouette peered into the car. On what looked like a beanie or hat, I made out the small but distinct glowing outline of a white sugar skull. A calavera.
They were Cristiano’s men.
At Diego’s warehouse.
Which held every last gram of the Maldonado product.
Diego had been right—Cristiano did have something to do with the robberies. And it looked like he was back for more.
Diego had told me to go if I saw anything suspicious, but he had to know I’d never leave him stranded. I had an opportunity to warn him, and I needed to take it.
Natalia
The Maldonados wouldn’t hesitate to kill Diego if he lost any more of their shipment. That was why this deal had been haunting Diego’s nights since the first theft. I had no idea how the Calaveras had found the top-secret warehouse, but I knew why they were here—for the drugs.
As soon as the skull-adorned bikers stepped away from Diego’s car, I opened the glovebox to get my cell. I sent Diego a hurried text that some Calaveras were out back. The keys to the Mercedes dug into my palm, but I wouldn’t leave him here.
I stared at my screen, praying for a response. I couldn’t take the chance that these men would ambush Diego and turn the situation with the Maldonados critical. Or worse—hurt him. When a minute had passed without a response, I stuck my phone in the neckline of my dress and sat up. I didn’t see the men anywhere, but I couldn’t see much to begin with.
I could help. I had to. I knew what it was to feel helpless during and after a tragedy, and it was a form of torture, especially paired with grief. Tonight, I could move soundlessly and use the element of surprise to my advantage to hopefully reach Diego before they did.
Falling For The Forbidden Page 69
