by Box Set
That shows what he knows. I spit blood from my busted lip on his shoes, daring him to finally put an end to all of this.
Two of them grab me, one on each side, and lift me up so I can see the first man pulling out a gun.
Puta madre. Mother fucker.
I brace myself, but even though I hear the shot ring through the alley, I’m remarkably unscathed.
The man to my right falls to the ground, and the one to the left mumbles something about Los Zetas.
In Toronto?
Only I would step into a shit this big.
The man in front of me drops the gun and steps to the side as he turns. “Aguilar?
I make out two men, both in black combat gear, but I still have to tilt my head slightly to see their leader. Then, I almost face plant into the pavement again. Galeno stands behind the man who’d led the attack with a gun aimed at his head. Lucero is on his right, gun also drawn, but aimed downward.
I wonder who took the shot. But even more than that, how the fuck did he find me?
I forget about the tingling in my extremities as my blood runs cold.
“I wasn’t expecting Los Zetas business around here today,” the man says, backing away with his hands held out to show he wasn’t a threat. Not to Galeno anyway.
I try not to show it as my lungs collapse within my chest. Idiota. How could I think he was a lone wolf?
“She’s my business,” Galeno points in my direction.
Hijo de puta. Son of a bitch.
“How were we supposed to know—”
Galeno steps forward, smiling slightly, but it vanishes in an instant as he takes a swing and belts him in the gut. Then he walks past them and holds his hand down to me. I’d love to shove it away, but I’m not sure I can even stand up with help, so I slap my palm into his, noticing the size difference as his fingers wrap around me and he eases me to my feet.
It takes all of my effort to stand straight. My back screams, but Galeno holds me at his side. “I assure you she won’t make the mistake of wandering onto your turf again.”
I bite my lips together to keep my objection in. This isn’t the time or the place.
Two SUVs wait for us at the corner and Lucero climbs into the driver’s door of the first while the other men hang back.
I nearly have to hold my breath to hold in the explosion until Galeno reaches for the handle of the back door to the SUV Lucero waits in. I step in front of him, blocking his motion. "You're Los Zetas? Qué demonios?"
Galeno raises an eyebrow, a gesture that seems to show more amusement than anger. I just lashed out at a member of the most feared drug cartel in Mexico.
Shit.
Lashed out didn't even begin to cover it.
"I figured a woman of your talents would enjoy figuring that out for herself." He cocks his head. "Maybe I overestimated you."
Right, the connection between Los Zetas and Toronto is so fucking obvious. "Or maybe, you're making yourself out to be a bigger cock than you are."
"Mi tesoro, you know very well how big my cock is. As for the rest, Decena is my cousin. He had a few deals up here he needed someone to look after."
Pollas en vinagre. I huff and shake my head, unable to digest all of this.
“What, exactly, are you doing walking around out here?” he asks.
I want to shrug so I don’t have to speak, but my shoulders are too tense to move. “I had to leave the car in a parking garage.”
He snorts. “Where?”
“Across from the International Hotel.”
“Why?” His voice has a little more bite to it this time, but I’m too frustrated to care and too exhausted to be interrogated. He’d been the one who said I was free to leave.
“Why is it that you get to ask all of the questions?”
“Fine,” he waves his hand. “What would you like to know?”
Where do I even begin? “How’d you find me?”
He jams his hand into the front pocket of my jeans and digs the keys out. “Tracking chip in the key fob.”
I groan. “Men and their tracking chips.”
He raises his eyebrows and stares off over my head. “You think now’s the time to complain about that?”
“If you’re expecting gratitude, you picked up the wrong girl.”
“I’ve noticed,” he mumbles. He takes a step back, his head twists at an odd angle. “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”
Not in the beginning or… maybe. I shake my head. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’m falling without a net to catch me with every line to the only life I’ve ever know severed. “I needed answers.”
“And what did you find?”
I grind my teeth together. “I’m tired of being used. I’m tired of being played. I won’t do it anymore.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not asking you to.” His finger traces my jaw, lifting my gaze to his face.
“What the hell do you want?”
"I’ve told you,” he whispers, backing me against the black SUV behind me. “I want you, Serafina.”
He can’t. He can’t know that because he didn’t know a damn thing about me. And if he doesn’t want me as a zorra, I don’t understand what he could possibly mean. "Stop calling me that. I'm no angel. Not even close."
His lips barely move, but the smirk is still obvious. The kind of smirk that reminds me that even the devil himself was an angel. "You're apparently not human either," he says. "No human would be standing here arguing with me—especially not in your condition."
"And what condition would that be?" I ask without budging.
His thumb swipes under my lip, taking with it dried, crusty blood. "You're strong, but not even you can hide the muscle spasms. Why don't you tell me how bad it really is?"
"I don't know what you're talking about,” I say, although I almost clench my jaw halfway through.
"Refusing to acknowledge the problem isn't going to make it go away, but if you're really fine, I guess you don't want this." He holds up a white oval pill.
I swallow. Can your mouth really water for a damn pill? This is certainly a first for me. Although, I also remember how it made me feel, sluggish, off-guard, out of control. I close my eyes, trying to get a handle on everything, but every time I inhale, I can’t help but flinch.
“Stay with me, Sera.”
I don’t know if he means physically or mentally.
White noise or muscle relaxer?
Jorge was kind once, too. Well, he was kind for a day or two, until he started locking me in that tiny dark room, “for my own good.” But Galeno hasn’t locked me up. And as far as I can tell he hasn’t lied. Then again, I don’t know up from down right now and it’s driving me crazy.
———
As soon as the lights dim, the ache in my chest sets in. It isn’t like the pain of an injury, just a constricting, deep, nagging pain that spikes my heart rate until I can hear the thud in my ears.
“Please, don’t leave me in here. I’ll be good.”
“You should’ve thought of that before you went for the gun. You think you’ll prefer what they do if they find out it was you?”
I shake my head, but I doubt he can see me in the pitch blackness.
The door latches with a click, then the lock snaps into place. I curl up on the small bed that takes up most of my tiny room and press my ear to the wall. On the other side, I hear voices and music. Laughing.
Things I wonder if I’ll ever experience.
Jorge had business to attend to. Business that wasn’t appropriate for a ten-year-old murderer.
A flash of light blinds me, and I realize I’m still in the back of the SUV with Galeno next to me.
I drag my hand through my hair, pushing it this way and that until my scalp tingles and the strands are full of tangles. “How long until the side effects from that damn cocktail wear off?”
He pauses before answering, “You should be in the clear.”
That isn’t what I wanted to hea
r. All that tells me is my brain is broken. What if I never get it back?
But then, when was my brain ever not broken? I spent more than ten years serving a man who tortured me. I followed orders. I didn’t question him.
What if I can’t function without that? Without orders?
I touch my temple and wince, feeling the knot forming just above my cheekbone. There’s another just under the right corner of my mouth, numbing half of my lip. I can’t even bare to think about the state of my ribs and back again.
“I didn’t take anything before the party,” I say, my stream of conscious leaking out of my mouth as I try to put the pieces together. “But I wasn’t feeling right before I ran into Serge.”
“How so?” Galeno asks.
“When I saw you, your tattoo moved.”
He makes a noise when he exhales, something halfway between a tired laugh and a sigh. “It doesn’t have a habit of doing that, but you did seem a bit flushed.”
“I didn’t drink anything there, how’d they manage to drug me before it all happened?”
“You had a rash, a small patch on the outside of your left breast. The doctor—”
“The clothes.” My voice almost gives out when I talk. “The clothes Jorge arranged.”
That’s why he only gave me fifteen minutes to get ready. It was all orchestrated. I wouldn’t have time to notice anything until it was too late. “You were right. He set me up.”
My whole life had been dictated by mad men. And now I sit next to Galeno—obviously a madman too. That was the only way to explain him putting in this much effort. And, he was Los Zetas. Definitely a madman. And I’m failing to see a point in fighting it.
“So does that mean he was a hallucination, too?” I hadn’t actually meant the question to be spoken, but I can barely keep my eyes open and it’s getting harder to separate thoughts from speech.
“Who?” Galeno asks.
The car hits a bump and I slump against the door, holding in the scream that wants to escape. My hands are clenched in my lap, nearly vibrating with the effort to keep a hold of myself. “My father.”
“Is that who you were chasing?”
I shrug. “Couldn’t have been.”
“Why?”
“He’s dead,” I say dryly.
“Dead isn’t always dead in our world.”
It was true. I’d died at least a dozen times, but not entirely in the way he insinuates. I sigh, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. “I saw it,” I whisper. “I pulled the trigger.”
Galeno leans forward a bit, then I notice Lucero glancing at me through the rearview mirror.
“When?” Galeno asks.
I guess there’s no point in turning back now.
“When I was ten.” I can still see his body hitting the floor. I can hear my mother screaming.
“Why?”
“He was a bastard.” I let the answers free without thinking.
“He hurt you?”
“He beat us.” I tense. No.
“Us?” he asks.
Damn it. Why couldn’t he miss that? “Me and my mom,” I say quickly. I face the window, watching his reaction through the reflection in the glass. His head cocks to the side, one eye narrowed as if he sees right through the lie.
“Sera,” he begins.
My skin crawls waiting for his next words. Expecting them, but they’re not quite what I expected.
“What happened?”
“I killed my father,” I say as if he hadn’t understood me the first time.
He reaches for my arm, but I tuck myself closer to the door. “I shot him in the chest. My mom screamed, sent me up to my room.” This time, I’m more careful with my wording. “After that… it’s a bit fragmented.”
“What do you remember?”
I sigh. Like caged animals, the memories want freedom, but I have to be more careful. “Jorge. He took me. Said he’d protect me. He told me that Mom took the blame and went down for it, but if anyone found me or found out what I did…” I swallow. “I went to live with him. He kept me locked away until everything was settled. Then, he told me it was time to earn my keep.” I don’t tell him how I’d literally been trained for my life with Jorge since I could remember. Homeschooled. Four languages from the time I started talking. Martial arts. How I knew for a fact I had shot my father dead, because he’d been the one taking me to the gun range every week. I’d never had time to breathe. Never had time to dictate my own life.
That’s why I feel so lost now.
I struggle to keep my eyes open as my mind settles into the fog. But at least breathing isn’t excruciating. Not like it was.
10
I’m in someone’s arms, but it doesn’t smell like Galeno. Fortunately, it also doesn’t smell like those expensive cigars of Jorge’s. I don’t manage to open my eyes until I feel myself being lowered down.
Lucero lays me on the bed and pulls the stolen shoes off my feet.
“Where’s Galeno?”
“He has business to attend to.”
Maybe he has what he wants from me. Which is what?
“He’s made arrangements with the doctor to come check on you tomorrow.” Lucero pulls the blankets up over me. “Try to rest.”
I stare up at him, Creeper, knowing he’d heard my secrets, too. “What’s he going to do with me?”
Lucero makes a face, but I can’t tell if it’s part smile or scowl. “Why don’t you ask him that?”
“I have.” In a way.
“And what did he tell you?”
“That I’m free to go as soon as I’m healed, but that was before…”
“Before what? Before you ran? Or do you really think it came as a surprise that you had killed somebody? We all have.”
The bed suddenly shakes and a furry nose presses against my arm.
“You want him in here?” Lucero asks.
I nod. Some sane company sounds good.
“I’ll bring you up some water,” Lucero says, taking a step back. “Are you hungry?”
I know I should be, but the thought of eating something makes me slightly nauseous, so I shake my head.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll bring you up a bag of chips or something in case you change your mind.”
When the coast is clear, I whisper to Rafe, “These people make no sense.” It seems like the drugs should make sleep come easily. They had in the car, but now that I’ve woken up, I can’t seem to find a comfortable position. How could sleeping sitting up in a moving SUV be easier than finding a comfortable position in the bed?
When Lucero returns, he’s careful not to make a sound as he approaches.
“You’re not going to wake me,” I mumble.
He sits a tray on the bed stand next to me with a few bags of snacks and a couple bottles of water. “The spoils of my kitchen raid. You need anything else?”
“A crystal ball or some shit to help sort all this out.”
“Dog’s the closest thing we have,” Lucero says, walking away.
“Yeah, I’m gonna get all kinds of answers from him.” I roll again, trying to find a position where at least one thing stops hurting. “How long have you worked for Galeno?”
Lucero’s shoulders drop, and he turns back toward me. “We met about four years ago when he saved my life. I grew up in Tamaulipas. I did what I could to help my family. When Galeno found me, I’d been stabbed, left for dead. He got me to a doctor, then offered me a job.” He gestures toward the dog. “I guess he has a thing for strays. Try to get some sleep.”
Again, I’m left with more questions than answers.
———
The pain wakes me. Even worse than before. Every part of my body screams.
I try to roll over, but the smallest movement makes my back feel like it’s shredding apart.
The bed moves, and I expect that Rafe is still next to me until a hand grips my shoulder. I bury my face in the pillow, feeling the moisture around my eyes.
I wish it w
ere just sweat, but I know it isn’t. I don’t cry.
“Sera,” Galeno whispers.
“That’s not my goddamn name,” the pillow muffles my voice.
“Then tell me what it is.”
I grunt, trying to keep the scream buried. I will not scream. But determination won’t keep the salt water from leaking out of my eyes.
“Roll over,” Galeno says.
“Leave me alone.”
Galeno makes a sound in his throat, then the bed shakes.
He’s finally listening for once.
Or so I think until I feel him on my side of the bed. He slides his hand under the blanket, and his fingers press into my muscles, rubbing tiny circles over my skin. And I don’t want to admit that it’s helping, until his touch moves closer to my spine and I flinch.
“Sorry,” he says.
Sorry? I don’t know what to do with sorry, so I press my face deeper into the pillow, rolling to my stomach, and let him continue. I’d be an idiot to pass this up, even if it is a ruse. Galeno massages every muscle with a skilled touch, but it only takes the edge off.
And adds a whole new edge as my thoughts drift back to the Jacuzzi.
I rub my face against the pillowcase, hoping it removes all the traces of my tears and lift my head. “You got any more meds?”
He grabs a bottle off the bed table and rattles it slightly. He’d left them out?
“One every eight hours,” he says, shaking one out in his hand and putting the bottle back on the table.
“You’re just going to leave me the whole bottle?”
I wonder what swallowing the whole bottle would do.
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
I don’t answer, just accept the pill as he opens a bottle of water. I swallow the pill dry, not wanting to move, but the taste it leaves in my mouth and down the back of my throat changes my mind. I roll slightly and prop myself up long enough to take a long swig.
Galeno wipes the back of his knuckles against my chin, and I feel the wet tears under his touch.
I turn away. “Don’t do that.”
“Doctor will be here in a few hours.”
“Great. He bringing me a new body?”
I can’t imagine what else might help.
