La Princesa (The Sicarios of Navolato)

by Yolanda Olson

  “Sentarse,” Papa instructs me and my sister, nodding toward the seats to his right.

  I nudge Ana Sofia frantically. If he wants us both here, it’s because he knows she went to Altata.

  She grabs me by the hand, gives it a reassuring squeeze, then plops down in the seat closest to him. She’s willing to take the blowback of his anger if we’ve incurred it, by putting herself between us.

  I sit down on the other side of her, clasping my hands in my lap while she tucks her legs up on the chair. Both our eyes are on Papa, waiting for what he wants us to do next.

  “Miguel and I were interested in how today went,” he finally says after a few moments of silence.

  “Um—”

  “It was a setup, that’s why I went,” Ana Sofia offers, cutting me off. I’ve never been able to lie to our father and she’s helping me save face right now by trying.

  “What makes you think that?” Señor Vargas asks her curiously.

  “It took a long time for the man to show up,” I say. “We were waiting, and no one knew where he was or when he would arrive, so I stepped outside to call Ana Sofia. I explained to her what was happening, and we concluded that something wasn’t right.”

  “Fucking gringos,” Papa mutters with a sigh as he glances around. When he sees Anabella, he waves her over and sets his knife and what’s left of the pitaya on the tray she’s holding.

  I like her a lot. She showed up after Mama left and has been the best housekeeper we’ve ever seen. She has a myriad of women working beneath her and everyone is very respectful of Papa’s home.

  And they can keep their fucking mouths shut, which is the most important thing.

  “And Lorenzo? Was he there?” Señor Vargas asks me curiously.

  I nod.

  “Why wouldn’t he be?” Papa questions in confusion.

  Señor Vargas and he exchange a glance and Papa nods. Apparently, this is not a conversation to be had in front of Sicarios.

  Our allegiance is a topic that is always in question. It doesn’t matter if the same blood flows through our veins, or if we were just lucky enough to be recognized for whatever skill was needed at the time; there are things that we don’t have the privilege to know.

  I get to my feet and tap my sister on her shoulder. She glances up at me with annoyance in her eyes until she understands that we’re supposed to leave now.

  “Let’s go to my room,” she suggests when we step back into the house. “I wanna know what happened in that place before I got there.”

  I want to tell her no, to let me just have some time to myself, but she put her life in danger for me today. The least I can do is show her some appreciation by sitting through an interrogation.

  And unlike anyone else that’s ever sat through her line of questioning, at least it’s not in her kill house, and I’ll get to walk away alive.

  Chapter Ten

  Ana Sofia walks over to her window and pushes it open, then makes herself comfortable on the ledge. One leg is hanging on the outside of the house, while the other is firmly planted on her bedroom carpet.

  “Think Enzo is in some kind of trouble?” I ask her thoughtfully as I lie down on her bed. She shrugs as she crosses her arms over her chest and sucks her teeth.

  “If he is, that’s his problem, Tati. I never liked that cabrón, he’s always assumed that he’s better than everyone else because he works for Señor Vargas. I doubt he’s even broken a fucking nail doing any dirty work, though,” she finishes with an eye roll.

  I put a hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle.

  She’s never liked anyone that just “sits behind a desk” as she puts it. I have to agree with her though. Not all Sicarios are killers, and sometimes, that’s good enough. But we’re still required to go into the field when we’re told to, and to get shit done.

  “He probably sucked some major dick to get where he is,” she muses with a grin. I toss a pillow at her and she swats it away before it can hit her.

  “We’re not all as brave as you are, little sister,” I remind her as I push myself up to my elbows and turn my eyes toward the ceiling.

  “Bravery has nothing to do with it,” she replies curtly. I don’t look at her; I know why Ana Sofia chose this life and it was to repay the man who saved hers so many years ago.

  “You know what I was dreaming about in the park today?” I ask softly as I lay on my back again.

  “Digame.”

  “When Papa first brought you home.”

  She lets out a short laugh.

  Not in a condescending way, but I think she knows why it’s been on my mind so much lately. I don’t know where our disconnect came from but no matter how much she’s attempted to fix it, I just haven’t been able to give her the time of day.

  Until now.

  “I remember that,” she says, casting a grin at me. “You cleaned my bullet hole and put a Band-Aid on it. You should’ve become a nurse, Tati, not a soldier.”

  “I did my best,” I shoot back defensively, turning my back on her. My sister sighs as she brings her leg inside, then lies down on the bed with me. She hugs me from behind and rests her chin on the top of my head.

  “I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

  I shift slightly, reach up and wrap my hands around her wrists. Ana Sofia tenses instantly, ready to fight me if I try to rebuff her affection again, but that’s not my intention this time.

  I want us to be best friends like we were so many goddamn years ago. I have to find a way to put my pride aside for that to happen.

  “Let’s take a nap, okay?” I suggest. She nods, and as her body relaxes I close my eyes.

  Nothing in this world could ever cause me harm with a sister like her and a father like the one we share.

  I’ll prove to them both that I’m worth more than conversations with dangerous men while they do the heavy lifting.

  Somehow.

  “I hope she’s hungry,” I tell Papa the next morning as I reach for the toast that’s just popped up.

  He smiles at me from where he’s leaning against the counter. I push my hair out of my face and grab one of the dull knives, cut a slab of butter off the brick and concentrate as hard as I can to make sure that I spread it evenly for her breakfast.

  Once I’m sure I’ve covered every inch of this piece, I grab the other one and cutting another slice off the block, I do my best to make sure that they’re even.

  I pick up the plate and step down from the stool carefully. I don’t want to drop her breakfast because she didn’t eat dinner. She tried but she got sick and Papa told her that it was okay—and so did I.

  I let her sleep in my bed and we both hugged Foxy until she was asleep, then I let him go so she could have him for the rest of the night.

  “Buenos dias,” Papa suddenly says after I’ve placed the plate on the counter and pulled a stool over for her to sit in.

  I turn around and see Ana Sofia—still holding Foxy—rubbing her eyes and walking a little funny as she enters the kitchen.

  I hold a hand out toward her when she gets close enough to take it. She gives Foxy a kiss on the top of his head before she tries to hand him to me, but I shake my head.

  “I don’t want him back yet. I want to help you get into the chair, hermanita.”

  She smiles slightly as she takes my hand and I move to stand behind her. Papa sets his cup down and watches me struggle to lift her, and just when he’s ready to come help me, I manage to get her up into the stool.

  “I made you toast, and Anabella, she’s the nice lady with the apron, is making you some eggs. I wanted to do it, but Papa doesn’t let me play with the stove,” I explain with a shrug as I push her seat in.

  Ana Sofia places Foxy on her lap, keeping her arm wrapped around him as she reaches for a piece of toast, and takes a small bite. She looks down at me and gives me a really big smile.

  “This is the best toast I’ve ever had!”

  I look over at Papa, feeling so proud of myself that she li
kes my cooking, and when he grins at me and picks up his cup again, I know he’s proud too.

  “Wake up,” a voice whispers urgently.

  I sit up almost instantly. My sister’s arms are still wrapped around me, and she grunts when I end up shoving the top of my head into her chin.

  “Sorry,” I mumble groggily as I glance toward the door.

  It’s Santiago, one of Papa’s favorite Sicarios and he looks a little strange right now.

  “What?” I ask irritably as Ana Sofia sits up next to me.

  “Miguel Vargas has been kidnapped.”

  Chapter Eleven

  When we enter Papa’s office, his hands are clasped tightly behind his back and he’s pacing a circle into the carpet.

  I’m honestly shocked to see Omar Rodriguez, a Federale, and one of our main enemies by default, standing in front of him. Scattered throughout the room are a few men under his charge, and I know it’s only to make sure that he walks out of here alive.

  “I wouldn’t go outside for a while,” he warns Papa. “And I wouldn’t let them go either.”

  He gives Ana Sofia and I an even glare over his shoulder before crossing his arms in front of his chest and turning his attention back toward our father.

  “What the fuck is this pendejo doing here?” my sister barks, eliciting a dangerous look from Papa.

  “He’s here to help, Sofi. And if you don’t want to be part of the solution, you can go back to sleep.”

  His words are laced with a venom that neither of us have experienced from him before, and as soon as I steal a quick glance at my sister, I regret it.

  Tears are brimming in her eyes and she looks like she’s been slapped in the face. She shifts next to me, mumbles an apology, then lets out a shuddery breath.

  I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close. There are days where I’m reminded that she’s not always La Carnicera and that her feelings are easily hurt, just like anyone else’s.

  That’s when I’m also reminded that I’m her older sister and it’s my job to protect her.

  Regardless of who’s assaulting her with words or violence.

  “She’s only looking out for you,” I tell him quietly.

  Papa stops pacing and walks to his desk, leans on it, and levels a deadly stare in my direction.

  “What the fuck really happened today, Tatiana? And I want the truth.”

  His tone is low, even, and unnerving. Our father is almost always a kind and generous man—until those he cares about have been put in harm’s way.

  Considering how long he and Miguel have been friends, I know he holds him in very high regard.

  “I went to Altata. The gringo never showed while I was inside. Once I stepped out to leave, I saw someone who looked like the man in the photo walking by me and through the doors. I called Ana Sofia. We both went back in to see what was going on and then we left,” I reply through gritted teeth.

  I’ve never held anger toward this man before but the fact that he’s treating Miguel Fucking Vargas like he’s made of gold and is spewing venom at his children, is putting me in a position that neither of us want to be in.

  Ana Sofia shrugs out from beneath my arm and wipes the tears from her eyes before she sniffles and loops her thumbs through the belt holes of her jeans. She’s trying to be strong, the Sicario that most men fear, because she assumes that’s the reason why she’s been summoned to this bullshit midnight meeting.

  “Vamos,” I tell her as I turn and tug on her arm. “Clearly, we aren’t wanted here so why should we stay?”

  My sister glances at me for a moment, attempting to become an emotionless killing machine, but the fresh tears in her eyes betray her.

  She chews her lower lip for a moment, glances at Papa, then to me again. With a nod, she falls into step beside me as we leave the men to their war games.

  Our father and our sworn enemy.

  Chapter Twelve

  I sat in Ana Sofia’s bed stroking her hair until she fell asleep with her head in my lap. I know that my outbursts are going to require a heavy price to even out the balance of how I acted, but to keep her from feeling how she did, I’m willing to pay it.

  But first.

  Taking a deep breath, I begin to slowly inch my way out from beneath her. Once I’m off the bed, I reach for the blanket and pull it up to her chin, tucking her in, then place a soft kiss against the top of her head.

  I head toward the door, opening it as quietly as I can, then peek into the hallway. I roll my eyes when I hear Papa and Omar still talking in his office and nod at Santiago, who’s standing post outside of his door.

  I put a finger to my lips, and he gives me a low thumbs up as I slip out of Ana Sofia’s room and walk quickly toward mine.

  I know that if I’m found out, I’ll never have to worry about protecting my sister again because my penalty will be the same as that of a traitor’s. Even though the act itself wouldn’t be considered betrayal, it’ll be seen as such.

  Unfortunately, I’ll have to go behind our father’s back to find out what’s really going on and I can only pray he doesn’t find out. Because if he does, I’ll lose his trust and then I’ll be worth nothing to anyone here.

  Clearing my throat as I enter my room, I make sure to lock the door securely before I walk over to my bed and open my purse. Taking a deep breath and a moment to reassure myself that I’m doing the right thing, I tap the screen to life and find Enzo’s number in my contacts.

  “It’s one o’clock in the fucking morning,” he growls into the phone.

  “What happened to Miguel?” I ask him quietly.

  “What?”

  He doesn’t know.

  “Enzo, this stays between us, okay?” I begin nervously. I can hear the bed shifting from his end of the phone before he lets out a heavy sigh.

  “Yeah, fine Tatiana.”

  “The Federales are here, talking to Papa. They say that Miguel has been kidnapped.”

  The silence from his end of the conversation intrigues me but not enough to suspect anything other than what I’ll be presented with should he choose to open his fucking mouth and talk.

  “Okay.”

  His response is indifferent and unexpected. I know that Lorenzo Munoz generally doesn’t care about anything other than himself, but by not showing any concern it comes across like he’s more than willing to bite the hand that feeds him.

  “What would you like me to do, Tati?” he asks irritably. “Like I said, it’s one in the morning. The viejo probably got lost on his way back.”

  “And if he’s dead?” I bark back.

  “Then I guess we’ll see who takes his place.”

  It takes everything in me not to throw my phone against the wall, but I’m becoming increasingly frustrated that he doesn’t seem to give a fuck.

  “Hey, how did they get past the front gate?” he suddenly asks, changing the subject.

  “Who?”

  “Omar and his cabróns.”

  “I assume they were let in by the guard.”

  “Federales?” he asks incredulously.

  “I don’t know. I was asleep when they got here,” I snap at him.

  “Really? Did you dream of me?”

  He laughs when I suck my teeth. I stab the end call button, then toss the phone onto my bed and throw myself onto my back.

  Enzo will no doubt tell Papa that I called him because he’s a sneaky son of a bitch. I should have taken Guillermo up on his offer since he seems to exude more loyalty than most. But then I remind myself that he doesn’t work for Miguel so why would he care?

  Why the hell do I?

  I close my eyes, place my hands over my face and let out a frustrated, muffled scream before I roll over onto my side and try to go back to sleep.

  “What did you do?” I snap at Ana Sofia. She’s covered in blood, frantically chopping at what I assume is a large animal. But her gasp at being caught tells me that not all is as it seems, and when she lets out a sob, I know it isn’t.
“Sofi!”

  She drops the machete and begins to cry even harder, “I didn’t mean to!”

  I step around her to see what she’s taken down then sigh when I realize it’s Pedro. My heart begins to race as I take in his body. There’s a hole in his back, almost dead center, and she’s managed to cut his arms off.

  “Okay, listen to me,” I tell her as I lean down and grab her by her shoulders. She buries her head into my neck and continues sobbing, but this is no time for tears. “You go inside and get cleaned up. If anyone sees you, you just tell them that you were attacked by a feral dog or something and that I’m taking care of the rest, you understand me?”

  Her eyes are closed so tightly that I’m worried she’ll never be able to open them again. “Ana Sofia,” I prompt her sharply, giving her a shake. “Do you understand me?”

  Another sob wracks her small body, but she finally opens her eyes and nods frantically in agreement.

  “Good, now go,” I say giving her a gentle push toward the house.

  I listen to the sound of her small feet breaking branches on the run back to the house. When I can’t hear her anymore, I drop down to my knees and pick up the machete. I’ll be able to finish what she started in no time since I’m stronger than she is.

  I won’t let her get in trouble for this and I’ll do my best to explain to Papa what happened while leaving her completely out of it.

  An hour passes before I’ve managed to cut his body into manageable pieces. I get to my feet and begin to stack them, then glance down at the ground when his head rolls toward me. I linger for a moment, taking in the frozen look of pain—the mask of death given to him by a little girl who wanted nothing more than to be liked.

  And she wanted it so desperately because the boy loved me.

  I grind my teeth for a moment before I pick up his torso and place it on the pile I’ve made. As I go back for his head, something inside of me switches. Almost like an insatiable need—the kind of thing we used to share when he would sneak into my room at night.