The Mexican Connection: Ted Higuera Series Book 3

by Pendelton Wallace

  She put her hands on his shoulders and ground into him, rubbing up and down against his body. He thought he would burst out of his pants.

  “You wanna go upstairs?” Lupita asked.

  Guillermo could only nod his head.

  As Lupita led him to the staircase that opened unto a balcony above the courtyard, Guillermo looked around for his friends. They were already gone.

  Guillermo wasn’t a virgin, he could proudly say. He had bedded Suzi Martinez on prom night in the back seat of Tio Ernesto’s Mustang. But that had been different, two clumsy young people grappling with each other for the first time.

  Lupita was a pro. She knew her business. She knew which buttons to push.

  She led Guillermo to a corner room on the second floor. The room was decorated in a combination of New Orleans whorehouse and Mexican rustic. The wrought iron bed was covered with red silk sheets and red and white stripped pillows with fringes to match. He briefly stared at a large oil painting of a naked couple locked together in the shade of a tree. He looked down at his feet to see a white oval carpet covering the tile floor.

  “Let me get you drink,” she cooed. Guillermo was so transfixed that he didn’t notice the glass of tequila in his hand.

  She put her arms around him and pulled him close. He could feel her teddy’s bra pushing into his chest. He ran his free hand down her back and patted her ass.

  She took his face in both hands and opened her lips. She snaked her tongue into his mouth and ran it back and forth against his in a silent tango.

  “We better get you undressed,” she laughed, feeling the bulge in his pants with her right hand.

  Guillermo, unable to answer, chugged his tequila.

  Lupita slipped his T-shirt over his head and ran her hands up and down his smooth chest. When she took his nipple in her mouth, he thought his head would blow off.

  She unbuckled his belt and let his jeans drop to the floor. She laughed when she saw his tidy whiteys.

  She pushed him back onto the bed and untied his sneakers, slowly pulling off his jeans and briefs, throwing them aside. She removed his socks and ran her hands gently up his calves and thighs.

  Guillermo gasped as her hands reached his cajones. He felt electric sensations that he’d never experienced before. When she took him in her mouth, he went wild with pleasure.

  She shoved him back up onto the bed and straddled him. Somehow, she had lost her panties when he wasn’t paying attention.

  She slid slowly onto him. He heard an explosion. He had never felt anything like this before. He thought he had died and gone to heaven. He had heard about fireworks going off, but . . . that sounded like gunfire.

  My God. What’s happening? Everything went into slow motion. Lupita screamed and jumped off of him. It seemed like it took forever for her to run to the window and throw back the curtain. Guillermo felt like he was running through heavy mud as he hurried to her side.

  The green steel door to the compound was blown off its hinges, smoke curled around the entrance. A dozen or more hooded men wearing jeans and cowboy shirts carrying automatic weapons burst through the opening, firing indiscriminately at anyone in sight.

  He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Blood flew everywhere. He felt bile and tequila rising in his throat.

  Before Guillermo had a chance to react, the door to his room burst open. He stared into the bore of an AK47.

  "Aquí está,” the man with the gun yelled. “I think this is the boy we’re looking for,” he shouted in Spanish.

  Huh? Guillermo thought. They’re looking for me?

  The gunman pulled the trigger and three holes appeared in Lupita’s chest. She screamed as the impact tossed her across the room.

  “MAMA!” Guillermo screamed. Am I gonna die? He couldn’t move. He watched in horror as the man took two quick steps to him and smashed the butt of his rifle into Guillermo’s temple. Everything went black.

  Chapter 5

  Chihuahua, Mexico

  El Lobo, one of the most feared drug lords in Mexico, was a middle aged man with a neatly trimmed mustache and graying hair. His powerful physique fit neatly into his five-feet-nine-inch frame.

  “Patron,” James said. “I need to talk with you.”

  El Lobo turned to look at the terrified gringo.

  “So, what you want to talk about?”

  “My wife.” James took a sip from his glass to buy time, to think of how to put this. “I heard from the lawyer, Abe Weinstein. He says that they’re going to trial. He thinks Lisa will be convicted.”

  “Yes?”

  James gulped and started in again. “That’s not right. He has to get her out of there. She knows nothing. She didn’t even know I was in the business.”

  El Lobo stared at James for a minute. He sighed loudly, then began speaking like he would to a child.

  “Listen to me, pulga (flea), I decide what’s right. I decide who goes to jail. It suits my purposes. It is best for the cartel if your señora, she goes to jail. I can’t have her talking to the ADA. If she spills the beans, I will have to deal with her. I will have the lawyer tell her, if she talks, she dies.”

  “No!” James couldn’t contain himself. “She can’t. She doesn’t know anything. You have to help her.”

  El Lobo backhanded James, sending his drink flying.

  “I decide! You hear me! If you don’t want a bullet of your own, shut up and get out! I’ll let you know when I need something from you. Now go!”

  James dully rose and walked like a zombie out of the compound.

  ****

  Seattle

  As the Alaska Airlines Boeing 737 broke through the cloud cover, the Emerald City magically appeared through Ted’s window. The plane descended on approach to Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.

  The scenery was so different from his concrete world of LA. Seattle was green everywhere he looked. Green waters of Puget Sound and the lakes nuzzled up to green hillsides covered with fir trees. The neat rows of houses all had lush green lawns.

  A thousand feet below him he could see all the construction in South Lake Union, his old neighborhood. Construction cranes rose above projects. Cars and people hustled about on once empty streets. The former light industrial area was undergoing a Renaissance. New buildings were going up everywhere for bio-tech and high-tech companies. Amazon.com’s new campus spread over acres near Lake Union.

  The plane turned south onto final and Mount Rainier came into view. Towering over the Cascade Range, the snow-covered volcano reminded Ted how vast and powerful the earth is.

  LA ate away at his soul. He wasn’t about the barrio anymore. His apartment and his BMW meant nothing. He had no one to share them with. He’d had a couple of shallow relationships, but his heart was never really in them.

  When he’d returned to LA he felt like a stranger in his own home town. All his friends there had either moved on, moved away or checked out. He hated that he’d lost three of his close high school buddies to drive by shootings. At least four more were serving time for drug-related offenses.

  When he got together with the friends that still remained in LA, he had nothing in common with them anymore. They had all grown up, found jobs, gotten married and had kids. They listened politely to his stories about Seattle, but soon, he stopped getting invitations to join them.

  He loved Seattle. He loved the freedom, his friends, even the cold rainy weather. He pined for cool, clean air. This was his home.

  As Maribel said, he’d given Papa five years, Hope was out of school now, and she knew the restaurant better than him. She loved the business. He could step down now without hurting Papa.

  And what about his education? He worked long and hard for that sheepskin. To just toss it away was a crime. He needed to find a job that allowed him to put his education to good use.

  What was stopping him from moving back to Seattle?

  He knew it would break Mama’s heart. She needed her familia around her. When even one of her kids wa
s out of her reach, she worried constantly. Hope went to Cabo for spring break last year and Mama hadn’t slept a wink the entire time. She spent her day within arm’s reach of the telephone, just in case Hope called.

  “The captain has turned on the seat belts sign,” the flight attendant announced over the PA system. “Please return your seats to the upright position and make sure your trays are forward. . .” Ted tuned out the rest of the announcement

  Ted grabbed his computer bag and backpack and stepped into the jet way. That first breath of fresh Seattle air startled his lungs. Even here in the heart of the city, the air smelled clean and pure.

  “Amigo,” Chris yelled when Ted exited the airport building. Ted rushed to his much taller friend and wrapped his arms around him in a big abrazo.

  “’Mano, good to see you.”

  Chris threw Ted’s bag into the trunk of his silver Porsche Boxster while Ted hopped in the passenger seat.

  “How was the flight?”

  “Good. Easy. Too much time to think though.”

  Chris eased the Boxster out into traffic and headed towards I-5. Chris had been driving the expensive sports car since his dad used it to bribe him into attending the University of Washington. Ted noticed that it still looked showroom new.

  “You have something heavy to think about?”

  As they passed Boeing Field, the downtown area came into view. Ted marveled at the clean, crisp air. He could see the tops of the tall towers and the space needle. Something he didn’t often see in LA.

  “I guess I’m just kinda homesick, man. Comin’ back to Seattle and all. I’m totally over LA.”

  “I can dig it.” Chris took the 50th Street exit, just north of the University. He still lived in the house his dad bought for him when he was going to school. “I’d love to have you back here, but what about Mama and Papa and the restaurant?”

  “I know it would kill Mama. Papa would lay a guilt trip on me. I’m not worried about the restaurant. Hope loves it. She’s better at it than I am and she’s finished school now. If I leave that muchacha to run it alone, she’s going to end up a millionaire.”

  Chris laughed. He remembered the lovely young woman that Ted’s little sister was growing up to be.

  “How are Mama and Papa doing anyway?”

  “They’re great. Papa sits in the bar and still bosses everyone around all day. Everybody comes to see him, to get his advice. He’s kinda like the Godfather. Even local politicians and celebs want their picture taken with him and hung on the Wall of Fame. His new favorite is Drew Barrymore, she loves him.”

  “Sounds like the old goat to me,” Chris said as he pulled up in front of the 1920’s Craftsman house he had called home for over eight years. “How about Mama?”

  “Oh, she’s worried that Hope’s not married yet and will end up old maid. Hardly a day goes by that she doesn’t ask me when I’m gonna settle down and give her grandkids.”

  ****

  Seattle

  “Well, Mrs. Adams, I’m glad we can finally talk.” ADA Petrocelli said from behind his desk in the Public Safety Building. Lisa Adams and her attorney, Abe Weinstein, sat on the other side. A tall, skinny young man stood to the left behind Petrocelli.

  “I’m interested to see what the ADA has to offer,” Weinstein sneered.

  Petrocelli continued to address his remarks to Lisa, snubbing Weinstein. “We know that you’re an innocent pawn in this game. You really didn’t know what your husband was up to. But we need a conviction. We’d much prefer him, but in his absence, you will have to do.”

  “No, I didn’t do anything.”

  “That’s not the point, Mrs. Adams.” Petrocelli leaned forward in his chair. “We need your husband. Only you can produce him. You bring him to us and we’ll drop all charges against you. Where is he?”

  “Lisa, don’t say a word,” Weinstein shouted. “She doesn’t know. She can’t contact him. He wouldn’t come in anyway.”

  “Where’s my daughter? I’m not talking to you until I see my daughter.”

  “Mrs. Adams, do you know who your attorney is? Has he given you full disclosure?”

  Lisa looked at Weinstein. “What . . . ?”

  “Don’t listen to him Lisa. He’s trying to confuse you.”

  “Abe, what’s he talking about?” She directed the question at her lawyer.

  “I need a moment to confer with my client.”

  “What are you afraid of, Abe?” Petrocelli asked. “That she’ll find out that you work for the Cartel?”

  “That’s enough. We’re done here.” Weinstein jumped up from his chair and firmly pulled on Lisa’s elbow. “C’mon, Lisa, let’s go.”

  Lisa sat stunned.

  “I think I should tell you that we’ve started legal proceedings, Mrs. Adams.” Petrocelli’s face broke out into a grin. “We’re going to confiscate your home, cars, boat, and your bank accounts. They’re all being seized as ill-gotten gains purchased from the proceeds of drug deals.” Petrocelli’s grin turned cruel. “We’re going to put your daughter up for adoption.”

  “No! They can’t do that!” She turned to Weinstein. “Can they? Kayla . . .”

  “C’mon, Lisa, let’s go,” Weinstein insisted.

  Weinstein took her by the arm and led her out of Petrocelli’s office.

  ****

  East Los Angeles

  “Papa, telephone,” the pretty hostess announced as she carried the phone to Papa’s table.

  Papa was at a table with the mayor and the police chief, telling stories of his boyhood in Chihuahua while they ate lunch. He had to stop and shake hands as the producer, director and lead actors of a new action movie being filmed down the street came in.

  The hostess handed him the phone as a chill ran down his spine, intuition told him it wasn’t good news.

  “Sí?” He said into the phone.

  “Mister Higuera?” The deep voice asked.

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Bob Robles. I am the El Paso Police Department’s liaison with the police in Juarez, Mexico.”

  Papa’s heart jumped into his throat. “Sí?”

  “You have a son? Guillermo Antonio Higuera?”

  “Yes, Guillermo, he is my boy.” Papa felt the heat rush to his face and his heart began to race.

  “Papa, what is it?” the mayor asked.

  Papa hushed him with the wave of a hand, then got up and walked away from the table.

  “I’m afraid I have bad news for you, sir. Your son has disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” Papa couldn’t understand. How did a boy disappear?

  “We found his car over parked in a lot near the Bridge of the Americas. We checked on his motel room. He never checked out. His things are still in his room.”

  “Maybe he’s just out sightseeing?” Papa clung to a thin strand of hope.

  “I’m sorry, sir, everything indicates he’s crossed over into Mexico. We need you to come to El Paso to collect his things and to help identify the bodies.”

  “Bodies?” He swayed. “NO…!” Papa fell to his knees. All eyes in the dining room focused on him. “Not Guillermo. Not my little boy.” His head swam.

  “Not my Guillermo.” He repeated in shock and disbelief.

  “No, sir. Not Guillermo. His body hasn’t been found yet. There was a massacre at a bordello outside of Ciudad Juarez. Two American boys’ bodies were found among the dead. Two are missing.”

  “NOOOOOOOOooooooo!”

  ****

  Seattle

  “Lisa? I’m Jennifer Trask.” An attractive, petite woman with chin-length brown hair introduced herself. She looked very professional in a trim business suit that finished just above the knees. Lisa rose from the table in the interview room and shook her hand.

  “Hi, I’m Lisa.”

  “Yes. Angie told me about you. I am curious as to why you wanted to see me? I understand you already have a lawyer.”

  Lisa fidgeted with her wedding ring, avoiding Jennifer�
�s eyes. “I don’t know. . . I guess . . . I don’t trust him.”

  There was a momentary silence.

  “I’m listening,” Jennifer said. “Go on.”

  “Well, the ADA said he worked for a drug cartel. Mr. Weinstein says it’s a lie. So now I don’t know who to trust.”

  “Hmmm . . .” Jennifer opened her brief case and took out a yellow legal pad. “Let’s start with why you’re here.” She perched a set of reading glasses on her nose.

  Lisa retold the story, going into great detail about her meetings with Weinstein and the ADA.

  “So,” Jennifer said. “You had no idea that your husband was dealing drugs?”

  “Jimmy isn’t a drug dealer. He’s a legitimate business man. He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Lisa, I think it’s time you woke up and smelled the coffee. You need to face reality. Your husband makes frequent trips in and out of the country. The police found evidence including drugs, guns, and money in your house. He won’t return to assist with any inquiries and he’s hired a cartel lawyer to represent you. If he isn’t a drug dealer, what is he?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. Maybe he’s some kind of government agent?”

  “Get real, sweetie. The police wouldn’t be after him if he was a government agent. He wouldn’t send Abe Weinstein to you if he was legit.”

  “I don’t like Mr. Weinstein.” Lisa was glad to change the subject. “He seems to give up too easily. He’s not concerned about Kayla.”

  “So you don’t think Mr. Weinstein is looking out for your best interest?” Jennifer asked.

  Lisa looked down at the table. “I don’t know why Jimmy would send me someone like that. I don’t know where he is or why he hasn’t come for me. I’m just so lost here. They have my daughter, Kayla. I have to get her back.”

  “Well, the first thing you have to do is retain me as your attorney. You will have to fire Mr. Weinstein so that we can be free to work together. I’ll contact him after you’ve talked to him and have his work-product sent over.”

  “Okay. He’s fired.” Lisa felt like a burden was lifted from her shoulders. She could breathe again.