The Cartel

by A. K. Alexander

  Dear Señor Espinoza,

  I am so sorry to bother you, but I thought you should know. I was a very close friend of Marta Peña and I’m your son’s Godmother. I feel it is my duty to inform you of the sad events that have taken place in the last month concerning Marta and Alejandro.

  Antonio could read no further after seeing the words “shot and killed.” He felt a bullet of pain pierce his own heart, leaving it empty.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Pedro’s mind raced with thoughts of what Felicia’s father would do if he discovered the two of them in bed together. Pedro would savor the memory of the previous night for a long time. He discovered, after returning from the opera, that Felicia was talented at more than putting on makeup and fixing her hair.

  “Good morning,” she whispered as she sat up in bed, her tousled hair dangling seductively around her face. “How are you?” She curled the small hairs on his chest around a finger.

  “I’m fine,” he replied. He kissed the top of her head, pressed against his chest. “I’d be better, though, if your father’s face didn’t keep haunting me.”

  “Don’t you worry about Papa. By now, he’s already gone over his figures, taken his morning walk through the fields, and smacked a couple of maids on the rear. I’ll handle my father.”

  She slid down Pedro’s body. Before he could protest, she moved her tongue along his engorging shaft in a slow, deliberate pattern. His fingers entwined in her hair, playing with it in order to keep from reaching orgasm too quickly. He yearned to prolong this pleasure as long as he could.

  “Don’t stop,” he cried out as she lifted her head up and looked at him. “Please,” he begged. She winked as she straddled him. His hands fondled her full breasts, her nipples soon erect to his touch. She moaned in ecstasy. She bent over him so that he could lick and suck all the more easily. As he did, her slow movements became more rapid. Pedro couldn’t take much more. Not wanting it to end, he rolled her over and now was in control, holding her hands down against the mattress. “Shhh,” he whispered. Aching to kiss every part of her, he tenderly placed his lips on her body beginning with her forehead, moving to her ears, her lips, arms and shoulders, fingers, stomach, legs and feet.

  She stretched her body out, enjoying this prolonged and delicate attention. For the first time in Felicia’s young life, a man wanted to please her. Most of the men she’d been with—boys, really—had expected her to do all the work. She felt that if there was such a thing as love on this Godforsaken earth, she’d found it right here with Pedro’s mouth, which was now probing her center of pleasure.

  With his tongue, he did the equivalent of what she’d already done to him. He moved it across her moist skin while his hands played with her breasts. As he did so, Felicia found herself in an erotic heaven she never thought possible. Unable to delay her climax any longer, she exploded, laughing and crying at the same time.

  Pedro smiled at the angel beneath him—this angel full of so much devilment.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. “We’re not through.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t,” he replied, wearing a smirk on his golden face.

  “Yes, you do.” Felicia pushed him back down on the bed.

  “Now, I think we’ve had enough for one day, don’t you? I’m certain Javier and Antonio will be wondering where I am by now.”

  “I’m the boss here, and you’re not finished.”

  “Really?” Pedro teased her.

  “Really.” She again took him in her mouth and he gave up the fight, knowing she was right. It took only a matter of minutes for him to reach completion. Sated, they lay together.

  “Now hurry and get out of here. I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to say to the Patróns about why I slept in so late.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “I’m not sure. But I will be back,” he replied as he walked past her on his way to the shower, smacking her bare bottom.

  She laughed, throwing on the jeans and sweatshirt she’d worn to the guesthouse the night before—under the guise she was going for a midnight stroll along the beach. She’d feared her incessantly nosey sister would find her and question her. “Goodbye,” she said, peeking into the shower at Pedro. He was not at all boyish, like so many of the men she’d already been with. His slightly rugged face contained a wisdom Felicia longed to attain. Everyone thought of her as the dumb, pretty one, and Rosa as the intelligent, creative one. She decided that morning that Pedro was the perfect man for her in every way. Regardless of the fight her father would give her, she was going to make Pedro Torres hers and only hers. No one would stand in her way.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Orange and Yellow leaves fell from branches of the elm trees outside the convent. Susanna felt the crispness of the autumn air as she washed down the front patio, humming a hymn from that morning’s mass. Since Father Miguel had come to the convent, her spirits had risen dramatically. He spoke about the Lord with a fervor she’d never experienced before.

  The two had become friends in the three weeks since his arrival. They visited often, speaking of important passages from the Bible, and discussing their meanings. As Father Miguel spoke, Susanna would often dream about her youth, knowing that if she were the same girl she’d been fifteen years earlier, Father Miguel wouldn’t be serving the Lord now.

  “Susanna,” the deep voice resounded behind her. She felt herself blush as she rose from her knees on the rough stones.

  “Oh, hello, Father,” she answered.

  “I wanted to let you know that Evening Mass has been changed this evening. I’m moving it up to five o’clock instead of six. I’m expecting a phone call tonight from my sister in France. She usually calls around six thirty.”

  “All right, Father. Thank you. Are you and your sister close?”

  “Yes. Bella and I call each other weekly, taking turns. The calls usually don’t interfere with Mass, but last week she said that her horse trainer had changed her training to an earlier time, so now she phones before she rides.”

  “She’s an equestrienne, then?”

  “Yes, and a good one too. She’ll be riding in a major horse trials in a couple of weeks. She hopes to make the Olympic team for Barcelona.”

  “Are you going to her event?”

  “I wish I could, but I’m needed here. She knows how much I want her to win, but it will be televised, so I’ll be able to watch it in my room.”

  Relieved that he wasn’t going to be leaving, Susanna replied, “I would love to watch it as well.”

  “Of course, you’re more than welcome to join me.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  They both turned around as the sound of Mother Superior’s voice rang out, echoing through the open corridor. “Father, it’s urgent. It’s your father. He’s on the telephone.”

  “Javier?”

  “Yes. You must come now.”

  Susanna watched as Father Miguel followed Mother Superior up to the office of the church where he could take the phone call. The pace of her heart quickened. Had she heard Father Miguel call his father “Javier?” No. It could not be. And Father Miguel’s sister—Bella? Bella Rodriguez? Javier and Cynthia’s daughter? Impossible. The night that Father was brought to the convent rushed back to her, when she was certain she’d recognized the voice of one of the men dropping him off, but no, it could not be. Father Miguel’s last name was Diaz. She said a silent prayer that her past was not catching up with her.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Emilio opened the door to his brother’s office. “You wanted to see me?”

  Antonio sighed. “Yes.”

  Antonio looked haggard. His eyes drooping, bags underneath them. He was slouched over in his chair. “I did.”

  “Here I am.”

  “Sit down.”

  There was a tone in Antonio’s voice, Emilio had never heard before—sad—not quite sad, m
ore beaten than anything. Emilio sat. “You’re worrying me.”

  “I have to go to Mexico again. Carlotta had a heart attack and is dead.”

  “This is what’s upsetting you? That witch that Javier married is dead and you’re upset by it?”

  Antonio shook his head and waved his hand. “I could care less about her. Out of respect for my friend, I will attend her funeral and normally I would request that you make an appearance as well. However, I have something far more important for you to do, and because of this situation with Javier and because I am still planning on leaving for Italy next week, I have to ask you to take care of this.”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  Antonio stood and walked over to the bar in the corner of the room and made himself a drink. He swallowed it all before pouring another one and then sitting back down where he set his drink on the desk and placed his hands folded in front of him. He seemed to choose his words carefully as he started to speak slowly. “Have you ever been in love?”

  “What?”

  “I would guess that you have not. However, I have loved not only once with my whole heart to Lydia, but there was also another love in my life.” He sighed. “A very powerful love.”

  “You’ve had many women I’m sure.” Emilio was sourly thrown back to that painful memory of witnessing Antonio take his beloved Marianna. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I have done many horrible things, and there is still time for me to make some of them right.”

  “Jesus, Antonio, you sound like a wounded woman.” Emilio knew he was pushing it by speaking to his brother this way, but he wanted to slap the man who was usually so strong. Was El Patrón breaking for some reason? Was he losing his mind? If so, Emilio would be able to take it all over with ease.

  “No, I am a wounded man and there are things that need to be done and I’m telling you what those things are.”

  Emilio waited, not knowing what to say.

  “This other woman that I loved died recently.”

  “Sorry.” This was so strange. Emilio shifted uneasily in his chair.

  “This woman had my son.”

  Emilio gasped and fell back into his chair as if he’d been punched. “What did you say?”

  “I have a son. His name is Alejandro Peña and he lives in Los Angeles.” Antonio handed him a piece of paper. “His address is in there. You are to go there and check on him. Make certain he is alright and keep an eye on him for awhile until you hear back from me.”

  “Excuse me? I don’t understand.”

  Antonio raised his voice finally. “You don’t have to understand. What you have to do is go and check on my son, and leave it at that. He’s lost his mother and all I want to do right now is make certain that he is all right. After that, I’ll figure out what to do.”

  “How old is this boy?” Emilio asked.

  “Almost twenty.”

  Another gasp. “I see. Fine.” Emilio took the address and walked out the door. He made it to his Maserati and slammed his hands against the wheel. Antonio had a son? Antonio had a son. With this news, Emilio knew he would have to find a way to use this boy—this Alejandro Peña—to help him destroy his brother, because he wouldn’t allow some bastard prodigy his brother now seemed to want to claim, disrupt his plans to become El Patrón.

  ****

  Emilio liked Los Angeles: the night clubs were great, drugs were abundant, and women crawled all over him. He'd been partying for a few nights and had heard through the grapevine that his brother was trying to locate him. Fuck Antonio. But he knew that Antonio would track him down if he didn’t report back to him before too long.

  Emilio believed strongly that he would still be the Patrón and run the entire operation one day, and that day would come soon. His mind was already working on how the kid might be manipulated into being of great service to his own plans.

  He drove past the address his brother had given him. “Down and out in little Tijuana,” he muttered through the blasting sounds coming from the rented limousine’s loudspeakers.

  He decided to ask around about the kid and see if he could dig up any information. The first couple of places where he stopped were markets, and no one wanted to give him the time of day. The people he came across were poor Mexicans, who didn't like this rich guy coming around.

  He finally pulled the limousine over to a group of young men, standing on a street corner. They all glared at him as he pulled up and got out.

  "Hey ése, what you want round here?" one kid asked him. "You want some weed, man?"

  "No way man. This dude, he want some blow, don't you?" another kid asked.

  "Actually, I'm looking for a guy," Emilio replied.

  "Hey, man, I guess we can't help you then."

  Emilio pulled out a wad of cash. At the same time, he flashed the gun he carried in his holster. The young men looked at each other.

  "You ain't no cop, is you, cuz?"

  "No, I'm not the police. I'm looking for an old friend."

  "Who you lookin’ for?"

  "A kid named Alejandro Peña." Emilio could see in their eyes that the name registered.

  "What you want with Alex, ése?"

  "I wanna talk to him."

  "He ain't available to be talking to. If you wanna talk to Alex, you gotta talk to me first."

  "Is that so?" Emilio was feeling out the punk kid, not too sure how far he could push him. His instincts told him not to push too hard while all his buddies were still around.

  "Yeah, man, so what's it gonna be? Either you talk to me or take a hike."

  "Can we go for a drive and talk?"

  "Oh, sure man. Like I'm gonna get in your car. What you think, I’m crazy or sometin’? No way, ése."

  "My business with Alejandro is private. I wouldn't want to embarrass him by talking in front of his amigos." Emilio could see the kid’s doubt. He was looking him over again, full of suspicion.

  "I dunno who you think you talkin’ to, man. But me and Alex are big people ‘round here. I ain't talkin to you no more. You had your chance. I don't like your business. I think you’d be a smart guy if you got the fuck out of here ‘fore my friends and I have to mess you up or sometin’."

  Emilio put his hand over the revolver inside his jacket. He wanted to shoot this little smart-ass then and there, right in front of his amigos. But he knew he needed this punk to lead him to Antonio’s son.

  “No problem, amigo. I’m leaving,” He announced, slowly backing away and walking around to the side of his car.

  *****

  “Hey man, there was this guy lookin’ for you today,” Hector told Alejandro.

  "Oh, yeah, who?" Alex mumbled, not looking up at his friend. He was reading through a book of poems his mother used to read to him when he was a little boy. She'd been dead nearly a month, and his pain was as sharp as the day he watched her die. Elisa had begged him to move in with them and stay for a while, but he really hadn't felt like living with anyone. Besides, he couldn't bear to part with the home in which he was raised. It still contained so many memories of his mother that at times he would pretend she wasn’t dead, but on a vacation somewhere. She always talked about taking a trip. Maybe that’s where she really was, and this was a terrible nightmare.

  "Didn't you hear me, man? I said some rich guy was out looking’ for you today. You in some trouble I don't know ‘bout?"

  "No, I have no idea who it would be. Probably a mistake or something."

  "No way, this guy wanted you. Don't worry though, I didn't tell him nothing."

  "What do you think he wanted?"

  "I dunno, said it was important. Maybe he wanna make a big deal or something. You know, ése, we big men round here now. Word is getting out."

  "I doubt it. Besides, I think I want out." Alex couldn't help the nagging guilt he still felt over his mother's death. If only she had known that he wasn't angry with her before she died. But she hadn't known, and he'd been so cruel to her the night before. God, he hoped
she knew how sorry he was. He missed her so much. Money didn’t matter to him the way it did before she was killed. Buying a mansion for himself didn’t hold the same appeal without her around.

  "You what? You crazy or something? We're starting’ to make some cash. You can't back out now. No way. Besides, you gotta pay the rent somehow, and you ain't gonna do it flipping burgers at McDonald's."