“Oh, great, can you all drop off the corn at the Pateros grocery?” Lettie called from across the kitchen. “That would save me a trip.”
“What happened to the corn grinder?”
“It broke. We need new lava rocks,” Abbi Mena said. She was frying empanadas at the stove. Lettie, Mamá, and Ariana were filling and shaping the half-moon shaped snack.
“Make sure it’s tortilla grind not tamale, okay?” Lettie said.
Migs chuckled. “Ah, Maria Leticia. How does she do that?”
“What? Keep track and listen to several conversations? I think she’s learning that from Abbi Mena,” Bella grumbled.
“I heard that!” Lettie laughed. “And these empanadas are for the workers at the warehouse. Why don’t you wait a bit so you can bring them along?”
“Anything else, mi hermana y señora?” Bella sighed.
“What are you complaining about? Migs is right there with the muscle.”
“She’s becoming as bossy as Tessa,” Migs muttered.
Everyone laughed.
12
“Do you know where the word avocado comes from?”
Ariana barely heard Bella’s question as she stood in awe of the enormous facility. Forklifts were removing pallets from trucks and moving them to their assigned location. Different sized boxes and crates stood in columns and rows.
Turning to the other woman, she smiled. “No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
Bella’s eyes twinkled. “The Aztecs discovered the fruit in 500 BC, they called it āhuacatl.”
“Bella,” Migs grumbled.
The teasing on his sister’s face intensified, and it spiked Ariana’s curiosity past the typical small talk. “And?”
“Well,” Bella paused for dramatic effect. “It means testicles.”
Ariana snorted a laugh. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Haven’t you noticed they mostly grow in pairs and their shape and texture resembles that part of the male anatomy?”
Ariana’s smile widened as she looked at Migs. “How about that? I learned something new today.”
Grinning while shaking his head in amusement, Migs led them around the perimeter of the warehouse. “The main packaging facility is in Michoacán. We handle almost thirty truckloads a day. This facility is mostly storage and distribution, but there’s a section in the building used for repackaging.”
Ariana rubbed her biceps. It was freezing inside where they were. Migs replaced her hands with his and gave her a rub-down.
“They need to keep the fruit cold,” he explained.
Cesar and Tessa met them at the bottom of a flight of steps. Ariana glanced up where it led and saw an overhang structure—an office with sweeping windows that overlooked the entire facility.
The two men shook hands and embraced. Tessa hugged her brother and Ariana. “He’s introducing you to the family business, I see.” Pulling back, she eyed Bella. “Glad you’re here. I need to do payroll.”
“We dropped off some empanadas at the sales office,” Bella said. She turned to Ariana. “After you’re done with the tour, meet us back there and we can do some shopping.” Tessa shook her head and walked ahead. “Later, guys. Busy day.”
“Whelp, I better help her,” Bella announced. “Enjoy the tour.”
The sales marketing office was an outbuilding attached to the warehouse and it was their first stop when Migs pulled the Escalade into the parking lot where three trucks were waiting to be unloaded. As popular as avocado had gotten in the States, Ariana wasn’t surprised, but her brain couldn’t wrap around the sheer volume that was coming in, considering the Alcantaras were only one of the many distributors.
Cesar looked at Ariana. He was a few inches shorter than Migs and leaner. Everyone was leaner than Migs. The sisters made a joke that he was adopted, because none of the males in the family were bulky. The women were more on the stocky side as well. All boobs and hips, just like Ariana. Migs was a hybrid of gringo and Mexicano, Bella said.
Migs was perfect the way he was, Ariana thought wistfully of her husband.
“Ready for the tour?” Cesar asked.
“I hope it’s not too much bother,” Ariana said.
“Not at all. The workers are on their lunch break.”
Most of the facility was indeed for storage, but Ariana was most impressed with the repackaging section of the plant. She was amazed at the automation. Conveyor belts and high-resolution optical grading facilitated the sorting of good and bad avocados, offering different levels of quality to the customer. Cesar said it was the same equipment they had at the main packing plant in Michoacán on a larger scale. He explained the cooling process started upon harvest, and the cooling chain was maintained until it was delivered to the customer to ensure quality.
“That would be a problem when the truck breaks down,” Migs interjected. “Heard one of them was stalled in Sinaloa.”
Cesar frowned. “Yes, but the cooling system was still working, so we’re good.”
“Have you ever lost an entire truck load?” Ariana asked.
“I can only think of two instances,” Cesar replied, his eyes darting to Migs. “First was our truck breaking down far from town. The refrigeration unit was faulty, too. Driver didn’t recharge his satellite phone. Drew and Joaquín were not happy. The other was a roadside wreck.”
“How far will that set you back?” she asked.
Cesar shrugged. “We have a few days of stock, so it’s not bad.” He grinned uneasily. “Insurance covers such cases.” He looked ahead at the contraption that was lowering boxes. “Here we have our box formation.”
Ariana went along as Cesar droned on. She understood the basics of the assembly line and this was basically the same, but she was more curious at the uneasiness that bloomed between Migs and his brother-in-law.
“Is something the matter?” The tour didn’t take long, maybe all of twenty minutes. Cesar excused himself, citing work he’d forgotten to do and left them to go up to his office, remarking that he would see them that night for dinner.
Migs held open the side door that led from the warehouse to the sales office. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“There was a tone between you two. Like the truck breaking down in Sinaloa was Cesar’s fault.”
“You’re imagining things.”
Ariana grew quiet. Maybe she was, but maybe she wasn’t because Migs’ face shut down. “It’s okay if it’s a family matter. Just say it’s none of my business.”
Migs head whipped to hers, jaw slackening. “You’re family now.”
“Not really, remember?” And she was glad when Bella met them near the entrance.
“Finally. I was getting bored out of my mind.”
Her husband scowled at his sister. “It wasn’t even twenty damned minutes.”
“What’s up his ass?” Bella cocked her head at her. “Did you two have a fight already?”
Ariana stared at Migs, making sure she communicated I’m not imagining things clearly with her eyes. Migs returned the irritation in her stare with interest.
Whatever.
Shaking her head, she stepped forward and tucked her arm into Bella’s. “Don’t mind him, we’ve got some shopping to do.”
Ariana was dragging Bella away even if she didn’t know where to go. There was a pinch in her heart, a pinch that reminded her that this was temporary no matter how believable their situation seemed at times. Getting attached was bad. Her arm on Bella loosened as she dropped her limb back to her side.
No. She shouldn’t get attached.
Migs was in a black mood as he waited for the corn to be turned into masa at the Pateros Latino Market. He left Ariana at the sales office so she could order what she needed with Bella at the helm. After a glorious forty-eight hours of married life where he figured everything was smooth sailing, reality smacked him right in the face. And it was all his fault. The half-truths he carried as an undercover agent were catching up with him, and he had no clue
how to navigate that path while he was married to Ariana—who was herself a mark. Or used to be one.
One he was trying to protect, but his business with the avocado cocaine truck was a family matter and he was confused as shit what to do. His father confided in him alone, not even his sisters knew or his mother or even Abbi Mena. At least that was his gut feel.
His burner vibrated. There were only two people with his number. Garrison and Ariana. It was the latter, but the message was from Tessa.
More requests from the grocery.
Migs sighed in a mixture of mild irritation and fondness, which was his default reaction when dealing with the different personalities of his sisters. He walked over and scooped up a shopping basket and moved down the list Tessa had given him.
When the masa was ready, and he’d paid for the groceries, he drove back to the warehouse, nodding to the guards at the gate and Leon. Drew hired nothing but the best and that was why Migs was comfortable leaving Ariana in the sales office with another guard outside the door.
He parked right outside the entrance when Tessa, Bella, and Ariana emerged.
“You never responded to the text,” Tessa said, getting into the back of the vehicle. “Did you get everything on my list?”
“Look behind you,” Migs replied, his eyes on his wife climbing in beside him. “Were you able to order what you needed?”
“Yes.”
“You owe me three thou, bro,” Bella chortled behind him.
“That’s it?” he deadpanned.
“See. I told you you should have ordered more.”
Ariana shrugged. “I have enough for now. My things are in LA.”
“How long are you planning to stay?” Tessa asked, followed by, “Thanks, Migs. What do I owe you?”
He made a tsk sound. “Just make me your tres leches cake and I’m good.”
“That’s it? I should ask you to shop more.”
His two sisters carried the conversation and Ariana smiled at the appropriate times, but something was missing from earlier. A light had died in her eyes, and he didn’t know how the fuck he was going to bring it back.
During the short drive to the house, his plans of cornering his wife and making her feel better about the situation were thwarted by the arrival of trouble.
Well, double trouble.
“Miguelitoooo!”
Pat and Cora.
He barely got out from the SUV when he was tackled by shrieking girls. They were the shortest in the family barely clearing five feet. Migs suspected they were four-eleven, but they insisted they were five one.
They also had a habit of pinching his cheeks.
“Hey, hey … you’re gonna ruin my pretty face,” he winced. He was immediately dragged around the vehicle as Ariana also stepped out, but if her face was anything to go by, it was as if she wanted to climb back into the Escalade.
“Introduce us!” Pat ordered.
“Ariana, my crazy sisters Pat and Cora.”
They smiled big.
“They’re adopted,” he deadpanned.
Cora elbowed him, her bony joint actually caught him unaware and he coughed.
“Don’t believe him!” Pat yelled.
“Maripat, Maricor.” Tessa shot the twins a sharp look. “Inside voices, por favor.”
They hugged and kissed Tessa.
“Where’s Gigi?” The twins looked for Tessa’s two-year old.
“With Cesar’s mom. He’s going to pick her up on the way here.”
“I can’t wait to eat,” Cora announced. “I’m starved. Pat and I wanted to wait for you.”
Migs was about to point out that it was only four in the afternoon and then remembered it was Friday.
And they ate all day.
His sisters chatted up his new bride and, like his mother yesterday, they ushered her into the house with Bella following them. That left him and Tessa to unload the vehicle.
As he picked up the container of masa and some of the shopping bags, Tessa said, “I like your wife.”
Migs grinned. “In case you haven’t noticed, I like her too.”
“Marriage is not easy, little brother. Don’t mess up this one.”
His head reared back. “It’s my only one.”
“Good.” And with a cryptic smile, Tessa picked up a grocery bag in each hand and left him to carry the rest.
The heat of the day retreated with the setting sun and a mild breeze moved the family gathering to the slate patio. Latin dance music blared from the outdoor speakers as they settled in groups and chatted.
Pat, Cora, and Abbi Mena had Ariana’s undivided attention as they debated agricultural practices, environmental economics, and the nutrition of the typical American diet versus a Mexican one.
Migs was staying out of that.
Tessa was rocking Gigi to sleep, standing over Cesar who was talking to Leon and his father.
He kicked back on a wooden bench, feet propped up on a coffee table constructed out of reclaimed pine, welcoming the peaceful company of Lettie while watching over his family. Bella was on her phone inside the house and he hoped to hell it wasn’t with that Carl guy.
Delia appeared beside them, holding a tray of paletas—Mexican popsicles and a favorite in his youth. His eyes lit up, lowering his boots from the table. “Ah, mi Mamá … what do we have here?”
“Peach and horchata. The peach is from Mami’s fruit tree. You can have two.”
Migs lowered his beer and picked an horchata one, eyes seeking Ariana. “Babe, you gotta try one of these,” he called out.
Delia handed the tray to Lettie. “Why don’t you bring this over to the others. I haven’t got a chance to talk to Miguel all day.”
“You and abuelita were busy prepping for the weekend,” Migs said, sucking on the ice pop made of rice milk and cinnamon. His mother occupied the space Lettie vacated. “This is so good.”
“It’s rare we get the family all together like this.” Delia reached over to his forehead and pushed back the hair that had fallen over. “You need a haircut.”
Migs chuckled and dragged his fingers to comb his hair away from his face.
“I’m really happy for you, Miguel. Ariana seems to have hit it off with Mami. That’s a good sign.”
“There’s a but there somewhere …”
“Just a bit worried.”
“Because of who her brother is—”
His mother studied her spread fingers. “Did you marry her to protect her from Raul Ortega’s enemies?”
Should he deny it? It was the main reason he acted so quickly.
When he didn’t answer, his mother added. “Do you love her, Miguel?”
At his continued silence, Delia sighed.
The paleta in his hand started to melt, the sticky liquid dripping to his jeans.
“You better eat that.” His mother started to get up, a resigned look on her face.
“I care for her. A lot.”
She angled toward him and settled back on the bench. “That’s good.”
“I’m attracted to her.” A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “A lot.” He emphasized again and took that time to swipe at the paleta, catching his wife’s eyes on them. Sitting beside his mother kept the filthy thoughts at bay, but he kept a lock on Ariana’s gaze until she was forced to look away.
A brief laugh broke from his mother’s lips. “Oof, what am I worried about? The heat between you two is enough to melt that paleta in your hand.”
“You think abuelita suspects?”
“Maybe. She’s of a different generation. Hers was an arranged marriage, but I can tell you she and Papá had a good marriage. One with lots of love and respect. I believe she came to love him very much. As for Papá, he adored your abuelita. Maybe that’s why Mami has taken to Ariana so quickly. She sees a part of her as a new bride.”
Migs set aside the popsicle stick and picked up his beer. “That explains a lot.”
And it gave him hope that the marriage between
them would work. Now if only he could convince his bride of the same.
13
Ariana woke up to a splitting headache. She was face down on the pillow, her mouth dry as cotton. Prying her eyes open took sheer willpower. The room was dark save for the bright sunlight peeking through the slits of the blinds. Somehow, she knew it was late in the day.
She also knew she drank too much the night before. Migs’ sister, Pat was the resident bartender and shoved her one flavor of mojito after another. It also didn’t help that she and Migs were in a weird place yesterday, and it appeared he was giving her space or maybe he knew that keeping Ariana away from his sisters was a futile endeavor. She didn’t feel abandoned. In fact, she felt a form of respite to be away from him if even for the evening. Letting herself float in the craziness of his family.
She groaned and fell on her back. Canting her head to the right, there was a body pillow beside her, and it did seem Miguel slept in the bed last night. She just couldn’t remember.
Wait. She did.
He was holding her hair while she was throwing up in the toilet.
Mortified, she gave a little whimper. She shouldn’t have drank that much, and should have told Pat not to ply her with liquid fortitude. But seeing Migs and Delia in a very serious conversation made her nervous, and the way Migs stared at her from across the yard made her stomach do a couple of salsa jigs.
She recalled Migs coming over to their huddle, telling his sister that Ariana was cut off. She tried to stand and tell him otherwise but ended up falling into him. He probably kept her upright so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself.
Oh my God.
How could she show her face downstairs?
She glanced at her watch. Ten a.m.
Ten!
She bolted up on the bed and regretted it. Her brain bounced around her skull. A glass of water sat on her nightstand with a note.
Abbi Mena has a hangover cure for you, but you’ll have to get out of bed and come to the kitchen. No hiding in the bedroom, babe.
M
Despite the thousand little men chipping away at her head, she had to smile. She had a feeling Migs’ abuelita was going to prove to her that indeed food worked better than an infusion.
Protector Of Convenience (Rogue Protectors Book 2) Page 12
