I pull a few packages of meat out of the glass drawer at the bottom of the fridge, set them down on the island top, then glance around the kitchen.
There has to be bread around here somewhere.
“Toma,” she says quietly as she opens one of the large pantry doors and retrieves a package. I reach a hand out and take it with a nod before I begin to pull the bread clip off.
She lingers for a moment but no longer, making a hasty exit when alias butcher walks in the room.
“Is everyone here scared of you?” I ask her as I layer some meat onto a slice of bread and flatten it with the palm of my hand.
She chuckles as she reaches for a stool and gets comfortable on the other end of the island. I reach for another piece of meat and slap it onto the last one, before I decide that this needs a slice or two of cheese.
And maybe some mustard.
I open the refrigerator door again and lean down to open the drawer I found the meat in. I grab a package of cheese, toss it toward the island, then reach for one of the beers sitting on the inside of the door.
I twist the cap off and slide it down the island top at her then go back to my constructing my snack. Sofi watches me in curious silence, which I’m hoping she’ll be able to maintain.
After I finish piling on a few slices of cheese and another layer of meat, I squirt a generous helping of mustard on top, then place the other piece of bread down.
I take a thoughtful bite as I reach for my beer and take a swig to wash it down before I toss the sandwich on the island top and turn my face away.
I feel like I’m forgetting something.
I set the bottle down and lick my lips as I go over the day’s events.
Besides almost being in the middle of a scuffle between that Omar guy and Miss Butcher here, I think I covered everything I was supposed to do on our outing.
“Fuck!” I suddenly shout as I slam my fist against the island.
“What?” Sofi asks in surprise.
“Stay here,” I tell her as I take one more swig of my beer and grab my sandwich.
“Wait, where are you going?” she asks, getting to her feet and following me out of the kitchen.
“I have to go home. I’ll be back. I don’t know when, but I will, so just sit here and wait,” I call over my shoulder.
“I’m going with you,” she insists.
I stop walking and glare at her when she catches up to me.
“Why can’t you just stay here?” I ask her irritably. “I told you that I’ll come back, and I will, but since you clearly haven’t noticed yet, we never did bring Cankle back, and I don’t think that’s gonna win me any points with your father.”
Her brow furrows in confusion for a moment before her eyes widen and I could almost swear that her skin drops a shade lighter. “No, I have to go with you. Santiago is one of Papa’s favorites and if something happened to him, he’ll take it better from me than you,” she says in a hushed tone.
“Just … stay,” I say as I start walking again.
“Gringo!” Sofi shouts as she catches up to me again.
“Yes, Your Highness?” I bark at her sarcastically.
“Tell me why you don’t want me to go with you. The truth.”
I sigh heavily as I take another bite of my sandwich. I spent so much time making this just right, and now it tastes like shit because she feels like I owe her an explanation.
It’s almost like we’re already married or something.
“Because you draw unnecessary attention,” I begin as patiently as I can. “I could have gotten more information on that Omar guy if I went alone, but you had to tag along and fuck it up. Now he knows what I look like; that’s not going to make this as easy as it should have been for me. And honestly, if Cankle is one of your Pop’s favorites, then maybe you should just let us have some guy time and try to get along.”
She crosses her arms tightly over her chest and pouts. It’s actually really cute and she almost gets me to cave in, but I can’t get in and out of Culiacán as fast as I want to if she’s going to be screaming Federales every time she sees one.
“I promise I’ll be back as fast as I can, okay?” I tell her in a much softer tone.
She grunts and I tilt my head at her, a smile forming on my lips.
“Sofi.”
“What?” she growls.
“Behave while I’m gone.”
She slowly raises her eyes toward me, the harshness faltering slightly at my smile. With a sigh, she lets her hands fall to her sides as she shakes her head.
“I’ll buy you some time with Papa.”
I nod and she turns around, runs down the hallway, and disappears from sight.
She’s going to be the death of me, I think ruefully as I take another bite of my sandwich and head for the front door.
Chapter Fifteen
It typically takes about forty-five minutes to get to Culiacán from Navolato. But in a situation where you’ve left the cartel boss’s favorite fucking pet behind, it’s not difficult to cut that time in half.
I screech into my driveway, damn near clipping a couple strolling down the sidewalk, and push the door open as soon as I throw it in park.
I don’t have to worry about anyone stealing my car around here, because I’ve got the reputation of being a drugged out psychopath. The only person who doesn’t seem to be afraid of me on this block is Romero, which is why I don’t mind that he’s as nosy as a teenage girl trying to get the latest gossip. As far as I know, I’ve never been part of his flapping gums stories, so he’s still good by me.
I jog over to his house, take the stairs two a time, and knock on his front door.
Goddammit.
I left my sandwich in the car and it’ll probably be nasty and warm by the time I get back to it.
Romero likes to talk even when he can tell that I’m in a hurry.
I’ll make up something and get him to save it for next time, I decide as I lay into the door again.
“Romero!” I call out as I knock again, then lean over to peek into one of his open windows.
When he still doesn’t answer, I push the pane up the rest of the way and climb in, damn near tripping over the little coffee table that he seems to have moved since the last time I sat around and bullshitted with him.
I sigh as I pick the table up then swat at the wet spot on my jeans. On top of moving the table, he thought maybe a vase half full of water with a couple of sprouts of whatever the hell flowers those are, would make the room.
I glance around as I begin to make way toward the front door. Even though I’m inside, I think unlocking it would be a nice way of explaining how I got in, in the event that he’s not home but finds me in here.
Besides, I’ve found him inside of my house a time or two before and brushed it off. I’m hoping he’ll feel the same way.
“Romero?” I call out again as I start to head toward the kitchen. That’s where we have most of our conversations and I’m still hungry, so hopefully he won’t mind if I make another sandwich while I look around.
But when I get to the kitchen, I come to a dead stop in the doorway.
There’s blood everywhere.
It looks like someone ran through the place with a chainsaw or something, and I don’t think I want to be here anymore.
As a matter of fact, I know I don’t.
Deciding it’s best to pass on a second snack, I turn around and damn near have a heart attack when I see Romero standing at the end of the hall, in front of the door to his home.
“Hey man,” he calls out to me cheerfully. I can hear the curiosity in his tone, no matter how slight he tries to keep it, and I glance down at the kitchen floor before I look at him again.
“Have … uh, have you been gone all day?” I ask him tediously.
He shakes his head, “Nah, I left maybe twenty minutes after you did. Why?”
He starts to make his way toward me but before he has the chance to see what happened in his kitchen, I
put a hand to his chest and shake my head.
“We need to get the fuck out of here. Fast.”
I spin him around and give him a shove when he hesitates, making damn sure that he moves as fast as I want him to. Once we’re outside, he looks at me in confusion.
“What the fuck is going on, Frank?” he questions, suspicion rife in his dark, brown eyes.
“Someone, or something, got fucking slaughtered in there,” I explain, shakily.
“What?” he asks in shock.
“Come on,” I say giving him a shove toward the stairs, “We’ll go back to my place and call the—”
No. Can’t go there either since I’m pretty sure that Sofi didn’t get a chance to tell the bulldogs to get Inez out of the tub yet.
“Just get in the car,” I tell him tiredly.
I figure if Pops is gonna let me into his life, he may as well learn who my friends are too.
“Open the fucking gate,” I bark at the guard.
He shakes his head again, his eyes still on Romero, as he holds his ground.
“I don’t know who he is. He doesn’t go in. If you want to enter, you dump him somewhere and I’ll open the gate.
I roll my eyes as I lean back in my seat and let my breath out in a huff. It’s clear he isn’t going to budge so the only thing I can do is what he suggests.
“Do me a favor,” I begin, glancing at Romero, who smiles at me and reaches for the door handle. Stepping out, he gives me a quick salute before he starts walking down the street.
“Thanks,” I mumble as I watch him disappear. I turn my eyes back toward the guard, narrow them, and point at the gate.
He stares at me for a moment before he leaves his post, hand on the gun in his holster, as he steps around my car to make sure that my buddy is gone.
Once he’s satisfied, he goes back to the booth, and presses the button to open the gates. As I start to drive through I eye him suspiciously when I see him reach for a walkie-talkie and start talking.
I don’t have time to sit around and try to figure out what he’s saying, though I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
And when I roll to a stop in front of the house and see Sofi waiting for me with a walkie-talkie in her hand, I know that I won’t have to wait long.
“Are you fucking crazy?” she hisses at me as soon as I step out of the car. “You’re lucky I was able to intercept this fucking message. If Papa knew that you brought—”
“Well I couldn’t exactly take him back to my place, now could I?” I ask her, evenly. She sighs as she sets the device down and turns one of the dials on top.
“His stories won’t go to anyone now. Mine is different than theirs,” she says quietly as she sits down and pats a spot next to her on the front stoop. When I hesitate for a moment, she lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m trying so hard to do my best to be what my father needs me to be, but I can’t … I don’t know why, but I don’t think I would be able to do that to you if I had to.” She looks away for a moment before turning her attention back toward me, her face hardening as our eyes lock. “So do me a favor and stop doing stupid shit that will get you killed, pendejo.”
I sit down and rest my arms on my knees as I look at Sofi and smile, “Careful there—you’re starting to sound almost human.”
She scowls and I laugh.
While it’s nice to know that she would have a problem popping me if she had to, it’s also a little strange to think she’d disobey a command from her father for a man she barely knows.
“So, what did you tell him about Cankle?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Santiago,” Sofi corrects as she tucks her hair behind her ears. “I told him that he wandered off when we were in Culiacán, that we drove around looking for him, then came back when we thought he might worry,” she says, ticking off the excuses on her fingers.
“And he bought that?”
I let out a low whistle.
Something tells me that a man like Pops isn’t exactly the most believing of such a simple lie…or three, but maybe it’s his soft spot for his daughter that made him do it. I don’t know, and I won’t until I have to cross that bridge.
“What happened there?” she asks, nodding at my sneakers.
“Goddammit,” I mumble as I lean down and swipe at the small droplets of blood that I hadn’t noticed. I lick one of my thumbs and put some work into scrubbing off the blood, then wipe my hand clean on the side of my jeans when I’ve done the best that I can for now. “Nothing important.”
“As long as you’re not hurt,” she replies with a shrug.
“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be your job soon enough,” I joke with a laugh.
Sofi rolls her eyes good-naturedly as she gets to her feet and motions for me to follow her inside.
I’m hoping this isn’t a trap of some sort, because while she’s slowly starting to soften toward me, I can’t get what Omar said out of my head.
Men have a habit of going missing around this one.
I subconsciously keep repeating it to myself like it’s a morning prayer and wondering what exactly I could possibly do that would piss her off that much.
“Where to now, o’ fearless one?” I ask her in a mock regal tone, and she just shakes her head as she keeps walking without so much a backward glance.
Pops is sitting at the head of the table, reading his newspaper and completely oblivious to the fact that there’s an empty chair at his dinner gathering.
Either that, or he’s going to give me a chance to redeem myself. Considering he hasn’t said a word to me since coming back for the second time, I don’t know what the hell is going on.
I’m feeling nervous, which I hate, but until the subject is broached, I have to act as normal as I possibly can. Which sucks for me because I’m still sketching some from not having had blow in months.
Anabella and the merry maids enter the room, setting platters of food down on the table, then begin filling everyone’s glasses. I don’t want any more fucking wine, but I also don’t want to draw attention to myself, so I just sigh and smile up at the young woman who proceeds to fill my glass to the brim.
Being in this situation reminds of me of many a night at the dinner table when I was younger. My father would make damn sure that regardless of what was poured into our cups or piled onto our plates, that we’d eat every last scrap and drink every last drop.
I used to spend a lot of nights sitting up and trying not to fall asleep because I couldn’t finish everything that had been set in front of me.
Mom would catch beatings for that because apparently it meant she was giving me “too much” and I “wasn’t worth it.”
It actually puts a sour taste in my mouth, and I shove my empty plate away.
“Not hungry?”
I startle slightly as I glance toward Pops. He’s not even looking at me as he flips to the next page of his paper.
“Not really,” I answer quietly.
“Then you don’t have to sit here.”
I nod as I push my chair back and get to my feet.
As I walk out of the dining room, I find myself wondering just how angry he’d be if I kept walking, went home, and never came back.
Chapter Sixteen
Night fell an hour ago.
I’ve been sitting in one of the large chairs on the back patio with my face in my hands. There’s been way too much shit that’s happened in the past few days for me to want to keep playing this game.
I saw Sofi again, which is what part of my endgame was after a year of searching. She gave me head, and while I told her it was mediocre, it was actually kind of fucking amazing.
Cankle is missing.
There was clearly a bloodbath at Romero’s.
I still haven’t even started looking for that Magdalena girl.
The longer I sit here recapping my failures, the more I’m starting to wonder if it’s possible to slip away unnoticed.
With a sigh, I drop my hands and smile when I see Sofi su
ddenly sitting in the chair across from me.
“You know what? You remind me of a cat,” I tell her with a chuckle.
She raises her eyebrows at me, and my smile turns into a grin.
“You ever own one? So, cats like to be left the fuck alone but when they want attention, they’ll find a way to get it. It’s never the other way around, and if you want me to be honest, it’s kind of fascinating to me. Well, that and the silent killer thing,” I finish dryly.
“You’re a strange bastard,” Sofi remarks thoughtfully, and I shrug.
“Takes one to know one, kid.”
“Hm.”
I run a hand back through my hair as I sit up and get comfortable. Clearly, this kitty has a hidden agenda and won’t be leaving until I stroke her agenda, so we may as well get it over with.
“Tell me what I can do for you.”
She shakes her head as she wraps her arms around herself and shivers. I suck my teeth and pat my lap, which elicits the most dangerous look from her.
“Unless you want the shirt off my back, this is the only way I can warm you up right now,” I say with a shrug. It’s no big deal to me whether she takes me up on it or not, but if she’s gonna do the I’m cold trick that females tend to do when they want affection, she should probably jump on this limited time offer.
She rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated huffing sound as she gets to her feet and walks over to me. Stopping just short of sitting down, she puts her hands on her hips and gives me what she probably assumes is a withering stare. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
“I’m not an exhibitionist,” I reply with a laugh.
As soon as she takes a seat and extends her legs across my lap, I slip an arm around her and hold her close to me. I let the silence last about three seconds before I decide to tease her, “That’s your job.”
El Gringo (The Sicarios of Navolato Book 3) Page 11
