Cartel B!tch: Almanza Crime Family Duet

by Chelsea Camaron

  So the man that I was stood down to the monster in front of me for her.

  For love.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mari Belle

  Five Years Later

  “You walk the line, she lives.” Maricio reminded me as I began packing Yesnia’s bag.

  I had my baby girl, but I was still stuck under my brother’s rule. Being a mom wasn’t easy. Doing it with no job, no car, and a brother who never allowed me our of his sight made escaping impossible.

  So, I embraced motherhood.

  If I couldn’t give Yesnia freedom then I would give her me, all of me.

  We were in America. El Paso, Texas which wasn’t far from where we grew up in Juarez. I found it comforting to be in the desert when Maricio would allow us to go out. That took time to build up trust for him to let me outdoors. Yesnia, though, she soaked up the sunshine from the very first time we got to enjoy the fresh air and every time since.

  Over the last few years I had built up a sort of trust with Maricio. When Yesnia was born, he held my hand as I pushed her out. It was a tragically beautiful moment. I became a mother on a cold desert night in a bathtub while my brother refused to let me cry out in pain, afraid the neighbors would hear. A midwife did rush inside just in time for her delivery.

  Yesnia Luisa Dominguez. My healthy baby girl was born at seven pounds, two ounces, and twenty inches long. The midwife left with no questions or even instructions for my healing. Honestly, after delivery I was too exhausted to reach out for help at the time. Of course, later I regretted it, but what was I supposed to do. I had a new baby that I had no clue how to take care of and I was under lock and key.

  I didn’t get to enjoy motherhood like most women, at least not in the beginning. Those first few days were so overwhelming. My breasts ached as my milk came in. I couldn’t seem to ease the pain radiating through my body as it tried to heal and provide food for my baby. It was all too much. Yesnia cried. A lot. She cried so loud and so often, it was like I couldn’t seem to get enough food in her.

  Maricio, well he was a special brand of crazy. Some days he would take Yesnia holding her close while singing to her softly. Other days he would look at her with complete disgust that left me holding her close while making promises I could only hope to one day keep. It was this constant up and down rollercoaster ride. Without any money, any family, or anywhere to go each day I felt more desperate than the last.

  Paco came around at odd times. He made me uncomfortable. He offered me a life free from Maricio but it was as his whore. I knew better than to take the deal. In the end, the fear of the unknown kept me with Maricio. He was a bad man, but I knew there were worse men around. I had to think about Yesnia and her future no matter what the cost was to me. Maricio never allowed Paco to stay long. Mostly, he tolerated him as a watcher when he had to take jobs out of town.

  He knew the man couldn’t be trusted but whatever he had over Paco kept him in line. Often times, Paco would just tear me apart with stories of Javi’s life in America. He made sure to spill details of my arranged marriage and how I would have been at the top of the cartel now. Apparently, Javi took the organization from Paco. He even dropped the Silvia Cartel brand.

  The underworld of the America’s was controlled by none other than the Almanza Cartel. Javi Almanza took an operation from Juarez, Mexico and now controlled all of North America, Central America, and South America. He had grown the business far beyond the boundaries Miguel Silvia handled and farther than even Paco had dreamed when he had his time at the time.

  None of it mattered to me.

  Javier Almanza took my heart and ripped it to shreds on an order.

  Nothing mattered more to the man than his business.

  I used to regret that he didn’t know his daughter.

  But the more Paco shared with me, the more I realized Yesnia was better off without him. He didn’t know what love was. I was a bargaining chip to get more in his world and she would have just become a pawn in some game we weren’t ever meant to understand.

  So while my situation was shit, it could have been worse.

  I wouldn’t give up on being free. I just had a new resolve not to let Javier Almanza anywhere near my daughter.

  Every time I came close to escaping in the last five years Maricio would seem to figure it out. Today that was our situation.

  I had convinced him to let Yesnia go to school. Lying, I promised we would stay if he would just let my baby girl have a normal life. The problem was I planned to leave, but he threatened Yesnia’s life. He had the power to do it. Maricio would kill her, kill me, and not lose one minute of sleep over it.

  With Maricio, I may not know from one minute to the next what would come, but I did know without a doubt, he would kill her.

  She looked like Javi. Her full lips matched his. The shape of her face and jawline all came from her father. If Javi was to be a little girl, he would look like Yesnia. I may have carried her in my body, but she didn’t carry my genes in the looks department.

  Sometimes, I closed my eyes and pretended everything wasn’t a lie or set up. Sometimes, I looked at her allowing my mind to dream of things being a fairytale with Javi taking care of us. Except, I knew reality and he contributed to our situation as much as Maricio did. Those thoughts got my heart back to the hardened place I needed it to be.

  “I’ll be going with you.” Maricio told me and my heart sank.

  “The school isn’t far, Maricio, we can walk.” I tried to remain calm.

  “No, I’ll go with you. This isn’t optional.” He firmly explained.

  “Do you even miss being carefree?” I asked even when I knew I shouldn’t. “You’re twenty-five Maricio. Don’t you want to find love?”

  He looked at me, studying me like he might actually be taking in my words. “I don’t believe in such silly things as love, trust, or passion. As for being carefree, I’ve never known the feeling so I can’t miss what I haven’t experienced.”

  This was the only time in the last five years where he has given me a truly honest from the heart reply.

  I finished packing her lunch and her back pack pushing down the anxiety. An hour later, I had Yesnia up, fed, and dressed for her first day of Kindergarten. Maricio had paperwork drawn up for us and since Yesnia was born in America she was a citizen. Somehow, he actually managed these papers that made us all legal, but under an address in Arizona. I didn’t question it. I couldn’t because my daughter was given an opportunity here and I wasn’t about to pass it up.

  She wore a red dress with short sleeves and an apple on the chest. She was so proud because A was for apple after all. My little girl had a love for learning. Maricio always brought home those workbooks for kids and we did them. She could even read some smaller childrens books at five already. I was amazed watching her learn and grow.

  We made the walk to school with Maricio being quiet and constantly looking over his shoulder like someone was going to grab us. He was paranoid. It had been years and no one had showed up to save me because no one cared. Sure, Maricio had enemies and he probably was in danger just for breathing, but I mattered to no one.

  We had a story for the school. We had a story for any question Yesnia may ever have about my past, her father, or Maricio. The lies built on more lies all to make sure she would never know where she really came from. It was best for her and for me.

  At the front of the school, my pulse picked up as my nerves continued to win the battle inside me. Inside I felt like all my muscles were quivering. My hands were shaking as I tried to be strong for Yesnia.

  We made it to her classroom as the tears built behind my eyes. Mrs. Adkins, her teacher, was a lady with long blonde hair that was braided down her back. She wore a red shirt and denim skirt that went to her ankles. She had glasses and a sweet smile as we came into the room.

  “Good morning, Yesnia,” she greeted coming over to my daughter and squatting to her level. “Are we excited to go to school today?”

  Y
esnia beamed. She was overjoyed. It should have given me peace—it didn’t. I was falling apart inside. A few days ago, we attended the school open house so we already met Mrs. Adkins and Mrs. White, the teachers aid. Yesnia moved right to her seat and began to unpack her back pack.

  The room was set up in stations for play and learning. The walls were painted in bright colors with signs of the alphabet, numbers, the days of the week, and even weather posters for the seasons.

  It was my turn to squat down at my little girl. Her eyes danced in happiness. “Have a super great day, love bug.” I said as my voice cracked with every word.

  “Don’t cry, Momma, I’m gonna have the best time with my friends.” Yesnia comforted as her little hands wrapped around my neck in the tightest hug.

  I never wanted her to let go. I wanted her to stay like this forever. For a moment, I thought I would break right there. Even for a split second the thought entered my mind to tell her teacher everything. Maricion stood behind me reminding me of what was at stake so I kept quiet just holding onto the milestone. I was slowly losing it and I knew she would feed off my emotions. I had to get out of here, the walls were closing in. Yesnia needed this freedom. If I fell apart and she got upset, Maricio would take this opportunity from her. So like any good mom, I choked back all that I was feeling to give her a better chance than I had. Wasn’t that what being a parent was about? Giving your kids better than what you had?

  “I’ll be waiting when you get out.” I choked back the sob trying to escape.

  “I’ll tell you all about my day!”

  Before I completely lost it in front of my child and her teacher, I left the room. As soon as the fresh air of the day hit my face, I let the tears freely fall. We rounded the corner of our driveway and I rushed inside.

  I didn’t even make it to the couch before I hit my knees in the entrance and I sobbed. The emotions racked my body as it shook.

  Letting go was the hardest thing I had to do that day, but it was a lesson I needed. Yesnia was perfect. She was beautiful, outgoing, and an angel. She deserved so much more in this life than I knew I would be able to give her on my own.

  So it was time for a new tactic.

  Get my daughter an education so that she would have the opportunity in this land of the free to be more than her mom, more than a Cartel. Yesnia Dominguez was destined to touch hearts the way she had mine.

  I would do whatever I had to for her to be as strong and successful as she was today.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Javi

  Twelve Years Later

  Chicago, home sweet home. Juarez was a memory I left behind ten years ago. After the day Maricio left because I couldn’t take the risk to Mari, Paco handed me the business. It was a trade off since I saved his life from Maricio.

  Granted his other option was to die.

  Either way, I was head of the empire.

  And I fucking loved it.

  It took two years to handle the losses and rebuild the business. Paco had run shit in the ground during his time. I let him live because it was a short term loss and a long term gain.

  Of course, the short term was the headache of him thinking he could be at my right hand. No, this fucker was the low man after all the shit he had done. In fact, after I got my mother to America, he became her bitch-boy. Whatever Estella wanted, Paco had to take care of.

  I let him live to set a new standard. Murdering the jefe, the boss was not the way to take over. I had enough of a bounty on my head just for being me and the crimes I had committed for Miguel. The last thing I needed was for dumb fucks in my own organization to think if they killed me they got my business.

  In the process of growth, expansion, I hooked up with Antonio Almanza who happened to be my cousin, mi primo, in America. He helped expand our trade north. With Aurelio at my side in Juarez and Antonio in the states, I was on top of the world.

  Since the feds didn’t have enough on me to do shit, I even managed to get my paperwork on the up and up with some help from some attorneys and accountants. So after two years in charge in Juarez, I left Aurelio to run things while I made the move to America. Settling my mom in Minnesota, I built life in Chicago with Antonio.

  Shit had been good here in the states for ten years. I had associates, I had millions in the bank, and I even had legitimate holdings so not everything was tied to the drugs.

  What I didn’t have was a clue where Maricio Dominguez was hiding with Mari. I don’t know how he stayed under the radar, but he did. I knew he was still pushing drugs and taking hits for other Cartels and mafias, but every lead led to no where.

  It was discouraging, but not something I would give up.

  Antonio and I had a meeting today downtown. He had acquired an artist who had been shipping drugs for us. The arrangement worked for years. We had recently upgraded her studio and moved her to Chicago.

  She got to have her business and we used the place for meetings from time to time. I liked Michele, she was a beautiful woman. She was fearless and strong which I admired.

  Today, I felt something was amiss. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but as Antonio arrived to pick me up for our day, something wasn’t right.

  We walked in the front door of the studio like we had plenty of times before. I turned and locked the door behind me because this too was common when we were preparing for a meeting. Pulling the black curtains closed, I sensed more people in the room.

  Remaining calm, I kept about my task.

  Antonio stood behind me making a tsking sound in his disapproval. Dammit Michele. Who was here? I turned to take in the space as Antonio removed his blue sports coat tossing it to the couch Michele kept near the door. Antonio rolled up the sleeves of his cream button up shirt to reveal the dagger tattoo on his forearm that we all had.

  It was my signature.

  I would rather a man die at the blade than by the bullet. I relished the strength, balls, and time it took to make a man bleed out then fire a single shot to their head. I wanted the power, I demanded it and I made my men crave it too.

  Antonio smirked as he spoke to Michele. “Hermosa, you’re my bitch; why is a man here?”

  Michele stood stock still with a man beside her. Interesting, I thought to myself as I studied the male. He wore a cut showing he was part of a motorcycle club and had long hair that was pulled back. He was tall and definitely not even remotely concerned about the danger he was in for being here in my business.

  Confident.

  I respected it.

  The biker in the room, was angry. I actually found I liked it. I was a man of many emotions and anger was my favorite. It rolled off him in waves as he moved Michele behind him, standing eye-to-eye with the Antonio. “She’s no bitch. As for me, I’m not any man, I’m not even Super Man, I’m her motherfuckin’ husband.”

  “She tastes,” Antonio smacks his fat lips in front of the biker taunting him, “delicious.”

  Reaching out, the biker wrapped his hands around Antonio’s throat and squeezed.

  He laughs before his windpipe begins to close but never once does he show fear or even grab my wrists to try to fight the biker off. This was Antonio. He relished pain. The biker should know that mi primo would fight to the death, even lose his life before he showed weakness.

  I kept my aviators in place watching the scene in front of me. Michele stood there the fear written on her face. No matter what we had thrown at Michele Forbes over the years, she never showed weakness or fear. Obviously, she cared deeply for the biker. The man inside me wanted to comfort her, the man I was to the world couldn’t do it. Kindness was something I would never let be seen.

  Slowly, I lifted my glasses revealing my scar. The scar that ran down my face drawing attention to my missing eye. It had become my signature in America. People knew the head of the Almanza Cartel was ruthless and without an eye he would still see right through any games—it was my reputation.

  I pull my pistol.

  Steady, I aimed not at the m
an slowly choking my cousin, but at Michele.

  While I had admired the woman, she was this biker’s weakness and I had to play on what I had.

  “Release him!” I ordered knowing he would do it.

  He wouldn’t risk his wife. Dropping his hands, he stepped back. Antonio spit at his feet while Michele moved to stand behind her husband.

  It was a sign of disrespect to the biker.

  He didn’t react. That was smart of him.

  I had the power.

  From the movements, I took in his cut—Devil’s Due Motorcycle Club, Rowdy his patch read. I had heard of them and him. While the streets were always full of chatter about Mitchell “Trapper” Gates and whatever he was getting into, little was known of Rowdy other than he went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. I knew Jackson “Rowdy” Presley. I knew what he was capable of. I knew his work, his skillset. I had given him a proposition years before. He had been welcome in my organization. He declined as my line of work wasn’t for him. I just never expected him to want Michele back.

  In the distance, closing in, the sound of the Harley’s pulling up outside could be heard.

  “My bitch,” Antonio said again directed at Michele, to which Michele moved closer to her husband

  “I told you I’m no one’s bitch! I did what I agreed to do through Bates. What happened to being men of your word?” She looked to me and asked. Which I had given her my word. She did her job and we left her alone. I kept Antonio off her even though the sick fuck wanted to rape her because he got off on that shit.

  Extending his arm out, Rowdy kept her from moving beyond his frame while looking to me like I was the villain. “You ever been married?”

  I shook my head. This was not new information. Anyone who knew anything about my organization would know this.

  “Juarez was not easy,” he brings up the city everyone knew I was born and raised in. “Estella, does she miss being home?”

  “Do not bring up my mother,” I retort as venom flares through me. They knew too much. My mother by name was a line. They had better not cross it.