The Cartel

by A. K. Alexander

  Lydia leaned her body against the oak wood bar, her breasts pressed together between her arms that she had tightly wrapped around herself. Emilio poured her a drink.

  The girls were with their grandmother for the evening, all the servants had long since retired to their quarters or gone home to be with their families. His timing was perfect. Antonio was out of town again, meeting with some distributors in the States.

  He walked back around to the other side of the bar standing closer to Lydia again. "You need a man. I see it in your eyes. I see the way you look at me. Your eyes burn through me every time I walk into the room." Lydia shook her head. "Don't deny it. I feel it when I'm around you."

  She took a sip from her drink, her scarlet lips leaving an imprint on the glass. "Emilio, you must stop this now. Not only am I your brother's wife, but I am much older than you are."

  "What, five years? Quit denying your feelings with lame excuses. You want me as badly as I want you. No one will know. No one ever has to know.”

  Emilio reached behind Lydia’s head and pulled the white ribbon out of her hair. The long, honeyed strands fell past her shoulders, framing her sculptured face. She began to back up again, but he grabbed her by her small waist and pulled her close to him. Kissing her hard on her mouth, Emilio could feel her resisting, trying to pull free. This aroused him further.

  To have his brother's wife—ah! That would be ultimate achievement. The struggle for power between them would dramatically decrease, and the painful memory from his youth would become irrelevant. He would be able to stand up to the man whom all Latin America referred to fearfully as El Patrón, knowing that he, Emilio, had slept with that man’s wife, his powerful brother’s wife.

  Emilio whispered in her ear, "A woman as special as you are deserves a man who can give her all of his attention. You are so lovely, so very lovely. Let me make love to you. Let me show you how lovely you are." Those words were exactly what she needed to push her over the edge. His roving hands began to explore her body, caressing her arms, her back, her waist, and then moving lower. He moved the tips of his fingers to her inner thighs, teasing her with a light touch. Lydia shivered and he knew she was his. He touched his lips to her neck, feathering her with kisses and letting his tongue sweep across her skin, as he untied the halter knot in her aqua colored summer dress. The dress fell to the ground.

  He moved his hands up again and pulled her tightly into his chest, enjoying the feel of her breasts against him. Then Emilio moved his lips to hers, kissing her hard, making that ache she felt for him almost intolerable. She moaned when he pulled away, her eyes still closed, and Emilio gently lowered her to the rug next to the bar.

  His touch grew more passionate now, slightly rougher, his hands squeezing hard, letting her know how strong his desire was. When his hand finally moved between her legs, her found her moist and ready. Lydia moved her hips up to meet his hand, silently begging him not to stop. She wanted more. She wanted everything. He began to work his hand against her, and Emilio smiled as he heard her gasp. So, as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, Emilio made love to the woman he had coveted for so long. His tongue roved all the crevices of her sensuous body, making her squirm with ecstatic pleasure. He took a great deal of pleasure in observing her resist the orgasm her body wanted so badly, but that her mind and heart told her she mustn’t allow herself. But the way he was grinding into her, the way he felt inside her, was too much and Lydia could not stop herself from surrendering to the pleasure. She was hot and breathless now, digging her hands into his back and so obviously desperate to reach that peak of ecstasy. When she finally lost the struggle and gave herself up to an incredible climax, Emilio was delighted to hear her groan with a mixture of satisfaction and grief.

  Before she could catch her breath, Lydia stood up and dressed, tears clinging to her eyelashes. But Emilio knew that she’d loved every second of it.

  “There’s no need for tears. It’s our secret.”

  She glared at him and stormed off to her room. He knew she'd be back for more, and he'd be waiting to give it to her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Antonio ran his hand over the envelope on the seat next to him, the one with Marta and Alejandro’s address written across the front. He swung the car down the street into the Pico Union area, shocked that they lived in such a slum. Surely Marta would’ve used the money he’d sent her all these years to rent a decent home, but it didn’t appear so. His stomach ached. He had been so nervous about seeing his son for the first time, he couldn’t even think about eating.

  He and Javier were in town to meet with Levine. Antonio knew that they were going to discuss the prospect of smuggling more heroin into the States, but Levine had actually made a subtle suggestion that they begin working with the Italians. Not an idea that was making him happy.

  He slowed down to read the numbers on the tiny houses. This was the kind of shabby neighborhood in which many of his dealers lived in. This was a disgust to see that his only son resided in such a place. Their lives could be so different if he could only convince Marta to return to Mexico, and allow him to provide a nice home for her and his son.

  Thoughts of dragging Marta and their son back to Colombia ran through his mind. This street was so run down, the undeniable stench from the sewer, sickening. There were bums scattered about the sidewalks as Antonio slowed down for a bunch of kids playing broom hockey in the middle of the street. That was when he spotted him.

  Oh my God, it's him. It's my boy. He knew him instantly. There was no mistaking those dark eyes and that tough exterior. He was the best looking kid out there of course. Antonio smiled to himself as his heart swelled with joy, overwhelmed by the urge to rush out of the car and hug him. But as he reached for the door handle, he saw Marta walking toward the boy. He sat staring, watching. She still amazed him—her beauty, her grace, and strength. She was not as young nor innocent looking. The hardships of her life had taken their toll, but there was an undeniable confidence in her now, evident in her posture.

  He contemplated his next move as he saw how wholeheartedly his son ran into her arms. The two hugged each other tightly and Marta gave him a big kiss on the cheek. The scene brought tears to Antonio's eyes, because he realized that he had no right to intrude on them. There was a bond between these two, which he wouldn't dare break.

  Antonio wondered what Marta had told their son about him. What if he thinks I'm dead? Or worse yet, what if she told him that I deserted them? With his aching head resting in his open palms, Antonio felt his guilty heart shatter.

  *****

  Lydia didn’t like being deceptive, but she hated being deceived. She had known for some time that something was wrong with her marriage. Now that she herself had been unfaithful, her guilt urged her to search frantically through Antonio’s personal things, where she knew she would discover evidence of her husband’s infidelity and thus be able to justify what she’d done. She ransacked his desk, all the drawers in his room, and went through his closet, but came up empty-handed. As a last resort, she decided to look through the books in his library.

  Lydia remembered seeing Antonio in the library with a pile of letters on his desk the day she confronted him about not wanting to make love to her anymore. He’d shoved those letters into a desk drawer and locked it when she walked into the room, claiming that they were only bills. But her woman's intuition told her that those letters were much more important than that.

  After flipping through several volumes, Lydia came across a book of poems. And that was where she found them, concealed in the middle of the book. There were at least twenty hand written poems stuffed inside the book, in addition to a long letter. Apparently, some young servant girl named Marta had become pregnant with Antonio's child—a son. Lydia couldn’t help feeling sorry for this innocent, unworldly girl, and she suddenly hated her husband for leaving her all alone to raise his child.

  Lydia felt connected somehow to this Marta, perhaps because they had both been deceived by
Antonio’s charms. Stupid. It was no wonder that Antonio wanted no part of her or their daughters. Bitter tears streamed down Lydia’s face as she placed the letters back in the book, and replaced it on the shelf. After carefully straightening up Antonio’s quarters so that he wouldn’t suspect she had gone through his things, Lydia returned to her room, where she could be alone with her thoughts. She needed to plan a fitting revenge, one that would cause Antonio to feel the same pain that was now planted in her heart and soul forever.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Antonio sat with Javier at the lounge inside the Beverly Hills Hotel and reached for the fourth gin and tonic the waiter had brought to the table. Unable to find the courage to approach Marta and their son, he could only try to get as drunk as possible in order to avoid dealing with the painful situation.

  "You might want to slow down on that stuff," Javier suggested. "Levine will be here at any moment."

  "Fuck him," Antonio replied sourly. Levine was becoming greedier in his old age, and Antonio was about ready to cut him off, literally. "You know what, Javier? I want you to handle it. I'm tired and I need some rest tonight.” Antonio watched a shocked expression spread over Javier’s face. "Knock yourself out. Play the head honcho for the night. But don't give that pendejo everything he wants. You should know how to deal with him by now. You've watched me long enough. Don't make any fucking decisions before consulting me first. Tell me what he’s asking for, and we'll go from there.”

  "You sure?" Javier asked.

  "Of course. You are my partner and my friend. I trust you to do right."

  "Do me a favor then, will you?"

  "What do you need?"

  "Call the nanny, and check to make sure Isabella is all right. Let her know that I will be calling later on tonight.” Javier picked up his glass of wine and toasted Antonio.

  Antonio dragged himself up to his room. Business was getting him down. It seemed that everybody always wanted something from him. But he knew that the real reason he felt so exhausted was because of what he’d witnessed that afternoon. He admired the fact that Javier had the courage to raise Isabella on his own.

  After Cynthia died, Javier balanced his time between his young daughter and their business, along with his political career. But Isabella always came first. She was a sweet, intelligent, beautiful child, and Javier had done an excellent job raising her. Antonio always urged him to find a woman and settle down, but Javier was bound and determined to keep things the way they were.

  Feeling lonely, Antonio decided to call his wife. The phone rang many times before Lydia finally picked it up.

  "Hello," she answered wearily.

  “Hello, how are you?"

  "Antonio?" she asked, suddenly sounding wide awake, a slight quiver in her voice.

  "Of course it's me. Who the in hell did you think it was?"

  "You woke me up."

  "I'm sorry. I called to say that I miss you. Even though I don't tell you very often, I do love you." There was silence on the other end, and then he heard her murmur, "I love you, too," in a voice that sounded like she was near tears.

  "Are you alright?"

  "I'm fine. See you soon."

  Antonio replaced the receiver and wondered why his wife sounded so strange.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Javier enjoyed being the man in charge for a change.

  "Good to see you again, Javier." Levine sat down. "Where is Antonio?"

  "I'm afraid he's not feeling well."

  "I am very sorry to hear that.”

  Javier detected a hint of relief in Levine’s face, as the older gentleman smiled and leaned back in his chair. He knew that Levine didn't care much for Antonio’s tough demeanor.

  "He would like me to fill him in on the details of this meeting. I should let you know beforehand that no decisions will be made without my consulting him."

  "Of course.” He folded his hands together and tucked them under his chin, his gaze never leaving the rim of his wine glass as he spoke. “You people are passing a lot of dope through my port lately, not to mention people."

  "That's the idea," Javier replied, wondering where Levine was headed.

  "Of course it is, but the locals are causing a ruckus, and the police are taking some interest in our activities."

  "That’s why you get such a large percentage. It's up to you to make sure we get protection."

  "Sure, I understand this. We've been doing business for, what, five years now?"

  Javier nodded. "Something like that. Why?"

  "Well, it would seem to me that with the demand increasing and all this heat on my back, a bigger cut for me would be in order."

  "Simon, I don't know. You know Antonio. He isn't going to like this. He doesn't like sharing much of anything. He's going to tell you that you get more than your share as it is." Javier didn't know what else to tell the man. He knew Antonio wouldn't give an inch when it came to their deal. He was constantly telling Javier that he'd like to do away with Levine as their middleman.

  "Fuck Antonio," Levine said under his breath.

  "Excuse me?"

  "I do a lot for you people. I don't need you. There are a lot of people like you out there, dying to do business with me. As a matter of fact, a man named Pablo Aguilar called me last week to ask about the possibilities of our working together. I told him that I was a loyal man, and I intended keeping my business the way it is. But I feel sure he'd give me the share I want without any problem."

  Javier wished Antonio were present. He didn't particularly care for confrontations. In a way, however, it was as well that Antonio wasn’t there, because in his current state of mind, he might have strangled Levine right then and there.

  "Look, I like you, Javier. I think that together we could work something out. We don't need Antonio. He's another goddamned big shot trying to run the world. Together, we can shut him down." Levine took a long drink from his glass of wine.

  Javier stared at him, unable to find the right words to say. A young large-breasted blonde girl winked at Levine as she cruised through the nearly deserted lounge.

  Levine scooted closer to Javier. "That's my date for the night, and it looks as if she's eager to get going. My apologies that I can't stay for dinner, but duty calls. Think about what I said and get back to me. I'm telling you, we don't need Antonio. You can make a lot more money with only one partner. A lot more money."

  Javier sat frozen as he watched Levine and the girl stroll away. How ignorant was Levine? Or was this some type of set-up? He knew that he wouldn't turn his back on Antonio. They had been friends for far too long for Javier to betray him. As soon as he recovered from his unpleasant meeting with Levine, Javier went straight to Antonio's room.

  After Javier stood pounding on the door for several moments, Antonio finally pulled it open. He stood in the doorway in a silk robe, rubbing his eyes. "What do you want? I told you I was going to bed."

  "You're not going to believe this," Javier replied. Maybe he should have waited until morning for Antonio's sobriety to return.

  "It better be good."

  "Believe me, you need to hear this."

  Antonio walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of water.

  "Levine wants more money."

  "You're kidding me, right?" Antonio chuckled.

  "You're getting funny in your old age." Javier didn't crack a smile. "Jesus Christ, you're not joking.”

  Javier could see Antonio’s eyes bulge, as if he had suddenly been jolted into his old sober self. "That's not the best part."

  "There's more?"

  "Oh, yes."

  Antonio motioned with his hand to continue. Javier told him about the entire meeting: the threat to go with Aguilar, and, finally, the attempt to cut Antonio out and make a deal alone with Javier.

  "Who the fuck does he think he is? That goddamned piece of scum. I'll kill him! I'll kill the son of a bitch! Trying to undermine me, trying to make my own partner, my friend—deceive me! That piece of s
hit!" Antonio's face burned with rage, his fingers tightening around his glass. "No one, I mean no one fucks with me. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't I tell him that when we first started doing business together?"

  Javier agreed with Antonio, afraid to get in the way of his wrath. "What are you going to do?"

  He shook his head and after a moment of silence, he looked at Javier. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of Simon Levine."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Pedro Torres was home with Bella during Javier’s trip to Los Angeles. She was sick when her daddy left, and Pedro himself didn't feel too well either, so he offered to stay and help the nanny care for her.