His eyebrows pull together in that characteristic way I never expected to see again. “Escape? What do you mean?”
“From the cartel. They sent a note warning us to not interfere with their drug activities in the old distillery or they’d kill you.”
He smirks. “They’d have to find me first.”
“You mean…?”
“No. I was never their prisoner. I almost was.” He reads the curiosity in my face and continues.
“You and Papi had already left for work. I was in bed when I heard them busting down the front door. I piled up some furniture and jumped out my window. I went straight into the field and kept running. They never found me.”
“So how’d you get out here?”
His face darkens. “I didn’t know what to do, so I hid in the agave for a few hours. I was afraid to get Papi. He was farming the field near our house, and I was afraid the guys who broke in might see me. So I decided to go to Abuelo’s and tell him what happened. I thought maybe he’d know what I should do next. I’d only been there a couple of minutes when a bunch of guys came crashing through his door. Abuelo told me to hide in the pantry, so I did.
“The guys were from one of the drug cartels,” he continues. “They told Abuelo he shouldn’t have sent his family member to check up on them. Did he ask you to do that, Gaby? Did you go to check on them?”
“No, of course not. You know Abuelo. Or…you knew him. He’d never ask me to do something so dangerous.”
“But the narcos said you were snooping around where they stored their drugs.”
“Yes, in the old buildings at the back of our property.”
A light comes on in Oscar’s mind. “Got it. But what were you doing there? I don’t remember ever going in that nasty place my whole life.”
“I found out that Abuelo used to have his own brand of tequila—Goza Tequila. Those old buildings are the distillery he built himself.”
He looks the question. And…?
“Abuelo quit because he ran out of money. I thought I’d try to start the family brand back again. I thought, ‘Well, I’m already poor. What do I have to lose?’ Turns out plenty, when you end up stumbling across narcos using your buildings to store their product on the way up north.”
He nods, the light shining brighter. “So they thought you were there to snoop on them.”
“Yep. And there’s something else. Abuelo was one of them a long time ago. A narco. So when they saw me, they figured he must have sent me to gather information he could use to turn them in or bribe them. They saw him as a threat. So they killed him.”
Oscar swallows. “Yeah, I was there. It was awful. I didn’t see it. I was still hidden in the pantry. But I could hear it. And then when they left, I came out and saw all the blood…” He trails off. “I should have come out to stop them. But I didn’t think they’d actually kill an old man like that.” His eyes grow red, and tears track down his dirty cheeks.
“I’m glad you didn’t. They would have just killed you, too.”
He nods. “After they…you know…did that, they talked about coming to our house. They said they’d wait for you and me to come home and kidnap us. They’d use us to make sure Papi didn’t go to the police.”
“Where have you been all this time?”
“I wanted to warn you and Papi, but how? I knew if I went home, they’d grab me. So I decided to hide. At least that way, they couldn’t use me as a hostage—or kill me.”
“Where did you hide?”
“Remember the lava tubes we used to play hide-and-seek in when we were kids?”
“Yes! I was just headed over there to look for you.”
“Really? How did you know where to look?”
“I thought the narcos had kidnapped you. They said they did. I guess they figured they really would as soon as you showed up at home. And when you didn’t show up, Papi and I wouldn’t have a reason to think the narcos didn’t have you. We figured out only a little while ago that you weren’t in the old distillery with them, so I thought maybe they kept you in a hiding spot.”
“Yeah, that’s where I was for the last few days.”
“Ah. That explains why you’re so…ripe,” I say, wrinkling my nose.
He grins. “Yep. I’m hungry as hell. We still had a bunch of water bottles from the old days, but the food had all gone bad. I couldn’t take the hunger anymore, so I figured if I snuck out at night, maybe I could find something to eat without the narcos spotting me.”
He steps back and examines me for the first time, not an easy task in the dim moonlight. “What happened to you? You look like you’ve been in a war.”
“That’s not too far off from the truth.”
“What do you mean?”
A touch of dizziness caresses me, then vanishes. I take a deep breath.
He steps closer. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
My lightheadedness returns, growing from a minor sensation to full-on vertigo within seconds. Rows of agaves converge into a silver blur.
I slump into Oscar’s arms, and the world fades to black.
CHAPTER 53
For the second time, I awake to find myself under medical care. This time, I’m in a hospital bed. Another IV is inserted into my arm, and a sterile, white bandage covers my gunshot wound. The grime and blood of the last few days have been scrubbed away, leaving me cleaner than the night this ordeal began.
My body aches from head to toe, a dull throb that no doubt would be worse without the pain killers being pumped into me via the IV drip.
The metronomic beep of monitoring equipment fills the otherwise silent room. I raise my eyes to the surroundings.
“Hey!” I say to Papi and Oscar, who sit in a pair of chairs squeezed into the cramped space at the foot of my bed.
They stand and approach my side.
“How are you?” asks my father, squeezing my hand.
“I’m good, Papi.” I glance over at Oscar. “I’m glad you’re both safe.”
“Likewise,” says my brother with a grin.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“About half a day,” replied Oscar. “It’s two in the afternoon. And you call me a lazy bones for sleeping in.”
I laugh. “You’ll get your turn soon enough, hermano.”
I turn back to my father. “That was you in the distillery, right? Coming in with the federales?”
He nods, his eyes glistening in the room’s antiseptic light.
“I was never so glad to see you in my life,” I tell him. “But how in the world did it happen?
He sits on the edge of my bed, careful to avoid jiggling me too much. “A couple of weeks ago, I saw a strange truck driving back from the lane that leads to the old distillery. It was weird seeing someone on our property like that, but I figured they got lost. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“But then when you told me about Abuelo’s murder, and that Oscar had been kidnapped, I knew what had happened. Those men on our property…that wasn’t an accident. The narcos knew about Abuelo’s tequila distillery, of course. And they knew it’s in a remote location—perfect for serving as a depot for drugs from the south until they’re ready to be shipped north.”
“So where did you go so fast when I told you about Oscar?” I ask.
My brother steps closer to the bed, hanging onto every word.
“This pueblo is in the area claimed by the Sinaloa Cartel,” continues Papi. “I went to tell them about Volante’s activity here on their turf.”
“And start a cartel war?” I ask, remembering Lily’s warning about just such a conflict.
He shrugs. “It was the only way. I hoped to distract them from worrying about what to do with Oscar. And maybe slow down their delivery operation so I’d have time to execute the next part of my plan.”
“Next part?” chimes in my brother.
“Yes, bringing in the federales to take down the whole operation.”
My chest tightens. “But you
thought the cartel had Oscar captive. If Volante had gotten wind of it…?”
Papi sighs. “Look…your abuelo has told me about the narcos for years. I knew that once they didn’t need Oscar as a bargaining chip anymore, they’d kill him and dump his body somewhere in the desert. The only way to save him was bringing in the feds. But I figured that approach would take a few days. To give myself time for that tactic to work, I stirred up trouble with the Sinaloas first.”
“We did our own stirring up, too,” I tell him, recalling the battle at the base of Tequila Volcano.
“So I heard,” says Papi with a chuckle.
“You did? From who?”
“From me,” calls a voice from the doorway.
I turn and stare in disbelief.
The speaker is seated in a wheelchair, beaming his thousand-watt grin my direction. “How are you, amiga?”
“Miguel! How—?” My voice catches. Tears spring to my eyes and stream down my cheeks. I try to speak but can’t. I swallow to clear the lump in my throat. “I’m good, but I thought you…”
“…were dead?” His expression softens into a half smile. He spreads his arms. “Here I am. Good as new—almost.” The sites of his injuries are swathed in bandages, but the rest of him looks to have survived without damage. A young orderly with a buzz cut wheels him over to my bed.
Miguel studies me, his dark eyes radiating concern. “Gaby…tell me for real. How do you feel?”
“Not ready to teach the yellow belt class anytime soon.”
“Ha! Same here.” He falls silent, then clears his throat. What’s eating him? Is he angry I dragged him into a battle zone? Not that I’d blame him if he were.
I can’t take the silence. “Look, Miguel. I know going to the distillery was a mistake—”
He rests a finger on my lips, quieting me, then shakes his head. “Doing the right thing is never a mistake.”
“But your arm. And Carlos…”
“He wouldn’t say it was a mistake, either. You know that.” Shining from his eyes is an inner strength I’ve never seen in him before. Perhaps it’s always been there, but I’ve simply never noticed it until now.
Papi gestures to Oscar, a flick of the wrist towards the exit. They and the orderly drift out of the room.
Miguel takes my hand. He starts to speak, then silences himself.
“Miguel?”
“Gaby, when I woke up, all I could think about was you—if you were okay.” His face flushes red. “And I realized that if you were dead, I’d never have a chance to tell you…”
I can’t breathe. “Tell me?”
“That I love you. I know…you’ve known that for a long time. But that’s not the same as me telling you, here and now, that I’ve loved you for years…for all my life. I’d die for you.” The statement is so much more than empty words in his case.
As tears fill my eyes again, I place my hand atop his. “You don’t have to tell me, amigo. You nearly did.”
CHAPTER 54
Fifteen months later
Capilla de Guadalupe’s city center hasn’t seen a fiesta like this in ages. A mariachi band pumps out the musical style made famous by our state of Jalisco. Strings of cheerful, multicolored lights cast a festive glow along the streets. A crisp, new “Goza” banner has been strung across the entrance to the plaza. And most of all, throngs of people have packed into the plaza—young and old, rich and modest, businessman and farmhands and shopkeepers, all sharing in the celebration. Even Sula wanders through the crowd, her tongue lolling and flashing her Golden Retriever smile.
Hacienda La Capilla, Goza Tequila’s renamed distillery, is celebrating its move to full production capacity—nothing like El Caballo Negro or the other big boys, but plenty big enough to provide for my family and keep dozens of locals gainfully employed.
And big enough to throw a fiesta like this. Laughter fills the streets, and young children gather in front of the central courtyard’s wooden gazebo that serves as the band’s stage.
I linger beside the first of several rows of tables set up to supply our house specialty to the adults in the crowd.
I survey the family around me. At the opposite end of the tables stands my father. Our eyes meet, and he nods his approval.
Something about his expression recalls our first real conversation after the battle with Volante and his crew.
“Is it true?” I asked him. “Was Abuelo part of the Juárez Cartel?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Father sighed. “You and I…well, let’s just say we’re both headstrong. But you and your abuelo were always close. Why would I want to ruin that for you?”
I nod. We all make mistakes, but would my esteem for Abuelo have waned if I had known he was a former narco? Probably. My father was right to conceal this fact during my youth. But Papi still loved Abuelo. That’s why my father insisted I lead the new Goza Tequila Company. He said Abuelo would have wanted it that way.
Papi reminded me he’d suspected the strange truck on our land was filled with narcos scoping out a distribution spot. His initial reluctance to let me restart the family tequila business resulted from an effort to keep me out of harm’s way without revealing Abuelo’s secret past.
I snap back to the present and smile in Papi’s direction. My father catches my gaze and smiles back. It feels like I’ve known him—the true him—only in the last year and a half. And I love who he is. There’s a lot more to my father than I ever realized: stubborn in a good way…brave…street smart…and protective of the ones he loves.
My gaze falls on Oscar, who is flirting with the girls over at the appetizer tables. He no longer has to toil in the agave fields. Thanks to our distillery, he now works as a bookkeeper when he’s not in school—or playing soccer with his friends.
The distillery…Abuelo would scarcely recognize it now. Thanks to a government small-business loan, it’s been cleaned from top to bottom and completely refurbished. It’s a model of tequila production, mixing the best of old-world techniques with modern precision. And we won’t have to worry about The Brotherhood Cartel crashing our party there. The federales, led by a new crusader against drug trafficking, chased down the few remaining cartel members who didn’t die in the battle. And The Brotherhood’s leadership structure didn’t help. Most cartels have a succession plan, but not Volante’s. He didn’t think he’d need one, so he was their one and only boss. Now that he’s gone, the remnants have long since splintered away. The involvement of the federales conferred another benefit: it forced the local police—the ones Volante paid off—to resign or face prosecution on corruption charges.
Miguel approaches me from across the plaza, weaving between clusters of celebrants with catlike reflexes. Nice to see he’s putting his martial arts training to use. And he’s doing so in more literal ways, too. Now that our wounds have healed, he and I have jointly taken over the Taekwondo classes. Goza Tequila has kicked in enough money to hire two new instructors, letting more kids benefit from the experience. And we’ve set up a fund to provide the traditional white Taekwondo garments to all the students, free of charge.
Miguel now applies his organizational skills to something bigger than running his father’s restaurant. He’s the new plant manager at Goza Tequila, coordinating work shifts, supplies, and inventory. I asked him if he resented working for me as the owner. He said of course not, and his eyes told me he was telling the truth.
Miguel reaches me at last and grasps my right hand. I return his squeeze. On my other hand, I twirl an engagement ring around my finger. Two months hasn’t been quite enough time to become accustomed to it. But I’m not worried. I’ll have the rest of my life to acclimate.
I sneak a glance at my fiancé’s face—the gentle eyes, the firm chin. After the battle with Volante, I see Miguel as I never did before…as I should have always seen him: a man of honor, of courage, with an unwavering moral compass—attributes that don’t get a lot of attention these days, bu
t they’re the ones that make a man worth knowing. And loving. And hey, it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot.
I turn my attention back to the town fiesta. The family recipe is once again being served, once again a part of the celebration of life here in my pueblo. Men and women, young and old gather in groups to enjoy themselves.
I remember Abuelo’s words from our first conversation of the family brand: “In the old days, everyone was happy.” Tonight, those old days have once again come alive. I only wish Abuelo could be here to see it. If he were, he’d be proud—not just of the distillery, but of me. I didn’t let fear of the unknown scare me from breaking out of the monotony of my old life. Some people call me a rebel. And who am I to disagree? After all, how many people chasing their dreams don’t have a bit of rebelliousness lurking inside them?
Did you enjoy the story? If so, please consider leaving a review here to help other readers discover it, too.
Now that you’ve read the story, read on to learn more about today’s Goza Tequila…
Yes, Goza Tequila is a real company in the actual city of Capilla de Guadalupe!
Visit the Goza Tequila website.
First, let’s visit the city and its people…
Next is Goza Tequila and the steps used to craft its premium spirits…
And finally, the end product: good times!
CHECK OUT OTHER BOOKS IN THE AUTHOR’S “BLACKWELL FILES” THRILLER/MYSTERY SERIES!
(Books 1 – 3 combined: Nefarious, Ruthless, and T Wave Boxed Set)
Book 1: Nefarious
Book 2: Ruthless
Book 3: T Wave
Book 4: Havoc
Book 5: The Devil’s Due
Book 6: The Evolution of Evil
Book 7: Tears of God
Book 8: When the Killing Starts
Book 9: The Dig
Book 10: Thirty Seconds to Live
Book 11: The Network (coming in 2019). See below for notification when available.
The Rebel of Goza Page 15
