Shaking my head, I find my voice again and meet Diego’s eyes. “I’m never going back to that place. Ever.” Let him kill me if he wants, but I won’t go.
Diego hops off the counter and strides toward me, piercing dark eyes fixed on my face. “Not even for your mother’s life? Not even for the cure?”
Every part of me is frozen. I can’t move. I can’t talk.
He steps even closer. “If you do this, I’ll give you the cure. Does that change your mind?”
“I…” I stop talking. Flashes from Bonita overwhelm my mind. Piles of corpses in the middle of the streets, the smell of burning flesh that won’t go away … bloodied hands and clothing.
My throat closes. I can’t breathe. I can only shake my head, my chest tight as panic grabs hold of me. The memories come flooding in. All those images I try every day to bury and forget. The wails of family members as they helplessly watched their loved ones slowly driven mad by a disease no one understood. Gunshot from a sniper taking out another desperate soul who was trying to climb the wall. Vicious men beating the frail, stealing their supplies, and robbing them of their food. A rifle pointed at me, demanding I kill another human being. The noise of my ribs cracking, of a knife ripping my skin, and fire burning the back of my neck…
And Liam. His smile. His laughter, despite all the tragedy around him.
I stare at the ground, unable to move. I know I have to accept the deal, but the words are stuck in my throat, imprisoned by the notion of going back after everything I did to leave. No matter how much I wish to leave it all behind, it follows me. That island doesn’t only haunt me, it hunts me. I’ll never escape it, will I?
But this will save my mother. This deal is her only chance.
Shaking my head, still feeling raw from the memories, I raise my eyes to meet his. “Why would you want to go there?”
“For the same reason you risked your life to steal the cure. Family.” He sighs. “My son is in there.”
“You have a son?” I frown.
“Yes. Is that hard to believe?” He gives me a small smile, one full of regret, but also tenderness. “His name is Alessandro. Alex. He and his mother were taken there after she got infected. She died a few weeks ago, but he’s alive. He sent me a letter begging me to rescue him. And you’re going to help me do it.”
I search his face for deception, but there’s no trace of a lie, no avoidance of my gaze, no hesitation in his voice—only unabashed determination. He has my mother, but I hold the fate of his son in my hands as well. We’re both each other’s only hope. But, more importantly, I’m not as helpless as I thought.
This is a negotiation now.
I take a deep breath. “You need to promise that my mother will be safe here. I want to make sure she’s alive every eight hours. If she dies, the deal is off. And if we come back from Bonita alive, you and your soldiers will leave us alone.”
Our eyes meet. In that split second, it feels like we understand each other perfectly. I know what he’ll do for his son. He knows what I’ll do for my mother. For better or worse, the fates of our families will be intertwined.
His expression turns serious. “It’s a deal.”
He offers a hand. I shake it.
As if we have just become best of friends, Diego flashes me a bright smile. An easy smile I could describe as charming if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s holding my life and my mother’s in his hands.
“Now, can I get your name?”
“Isabel.”
“Well, Isabel, I’m Diego. Just in case you didn’t know who you rolled around in the bed with earlier.” He winks, a glint of amusement lighting up his handsome face.
Can I trust this man? He’s charming, but devils can also be charming when they want to.
After holstering the gun back into his belt, Diego strides around my tiny shack as if he owns the place. I suspect he does that without even realizing it—a habit hard to shake after years of actually owning everything. I stand in the middle of the room, hands on my sides, as he opens the dilapidated cabinets until finally finding my supply bag.
He unzips it, raising an eyebrow at its contents. “Planning to run away?”
“I’m always planning to run away.” A lingering habit from Bonita, but I don’t tell him that.
“Glad to know I wasn’t the reason.” He places the bag on the kitchen counter and smirks. “I would hate to think I scared off a beautiful woman from my bed.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I won’t be swept away by banter. This is not some guy in a bar—he’s dangerous. No one reaches the top of a criminal organization by only being charming.
So I change the subject. “When do you plan to leave for Bonita?”
“As soon as possible, but we need to talk about something else first.” Tapping his fingers on the counter, he looks at the window. “I want the whole story of how you found out about the cure.”
I hesitate yet again, avoiding his eyes. My self-preservation instincts kick in, forcing my mouth shut. I’m not about to confess to a drug lord that I stole from him.
“Isabel.” The way my name rolls off his tongue, and the strength in his voice, lures me into looking at him. “We made a deal. I don’t know how much you know about me, but when I make a deal, it means something. Whatever you did, it doesn’t matter. I’ll keep my promise.”
Once again, I study his face in search of a lie. Any sign of a trap. I can’t help but doubt his words. Deal or no deal, trust doesn’t come easily to me—with good reason. I saw the worst of humanity in Bonita, and that’s a sight hard to forget.
Yet, I know he gains nothing by killing my mother or me. If he cares for his son as much as I suspect he does, he won’t harm me, not until Alex is safe at least.
I take a deep breath. Here it goes.
“I needed sleeping pills to keep my mother calm. For a few months now, I’ve sneaked into City Hall to steal them. I did it today too.” I study his face, searching for anger or annoyance, but his expression is neutral. “I was in the storage room when Ana Cruz and someone named Carlos walked in. I hid. They talked about the cure, and then left.”
“You sure it was Ana Cruz?”
I nod.
Diego’s face darkens, his jaw clenched. Finally, he pounds his fist against the counter once. Twice. I wince. When he speaks again, there’s an edge of danger in his voice. “Did she mention my brother?”
I blink, trying to remember. “Yes. She said you thought they were the same. She seemed bitter about it.”
He nods absently, gaze down. After a second or two, our eyes meet again. Diego walks around the counter, closing the distance between us. “Thank you for telling me. Keep this to yourself. Don’t tell anyone else about it. Understand?”
“I do. But what does it matter? What happened between you and your brother?”
Diego lifts his tank top, revealing a scar on the upper left side of his defined abdomen. His smile is sardonic. “Knife attack during a soccer match. The guy he paid to kill me missed my spleen by a few inches. I was lucky that day.”
Even if his tone is casual, his expression relaxed, I can see pain and anger in his eyes. It’s controlled, hidden, but very present. I wonder if Liam’s eyes are just as dark as Diego’s after what I did to him. Seems betrayals are inescapable in this new world we live in.
I also finally understand why he’s been reclusive all this time, and why he’s alone with me in this shack instead of sending his soldiers. It must have been quite the blow to realize the people he thought were loyal could turn on him at any moment.
“And you think she had something to do with that?” I ask, staring at his scar. “You think she betrayed you?”
Diego pulls down his shirt. “That’s my business. It has nothing to do with Alex and our mission.”
“It does if she’s after the cure.” I won’t suffer this journey only to have my mother’s salvation snatched away by a traitor.
“She won’t get the cure. Trust me.” D
uring this entire conversation, he has faced me head-on, but for a split second, he avoids my eyes. It’s enough for me to frown.
“I don’t trust anyone.”
He tilts his head to the side, edging closer. “I make a living by striking deals, Isabel. I need to be very careful with my promises if I want to survive. Ana Cruz won’t get the cure. I’ll take care of her.”
I take a step back. “Well, I learned fast that promises mean very little in Bonita. I had to—to survive.”
With a raised eyebrow, he says, “We are not in Bonita yet. If this deal is to work, you’ll need to trust me.”
There’s no hiding the skepticism in my voice. “Not without proof, I won’t.”
He shrugs. “I can give you that soon. Don’t worry. It’s important we both trust each other.”
“Does that mean you trust me?”
“Yes.” He leans in, invading my personal space as if he owns it. His voice is smooth, deep. “Right now, I trust you more than anyone I know.”
I can’t quite understand the reason, but my heart skips a beat. I swallow hard, and then whisper, “Why?”
He steps away, taking the air in my lungs with him. “I know what to expect from you, Isabel. I know what you gain by our deal. I know what you lose if you don’t do your part. Someone like you, I can predict.”
The dismissive tone infuriates me. I follow him to the counter, arms crossed over my chest. “You shouldn’t assume you know me. You don’t.”
Diego smiles wide at my reaction. He chuckles. “Don’t take that as an insult. Take it as an invitation to surprise me.”
I open my mouth, but then close it. There he goes again, flirting.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Pack anything you want to take with you.” He picks up his baseball cap and covers his head again, pushing his black curls into the hat. “Try not to dream about me too much. I need you focused.”
After winking, Diego slips outside and into the jungle, disappearing between the thick vegetation. I stand by the front door a long time before closing it.
There’s nothing to take with me apart from water bottles and a few cans of beans, so for hours, I pace around the kitchen, our conversation repeating over and over in my mind. Diego talks a lot about trust, but I can’t fall for it.
What if everything that just happened was some sort of trick? And the worst thing is that part of me wishes it were a trick. I want the cure for my mother. I want it more than anything. But going back to Bonita?
I crawled my way out of that hell, blood under my nails and darkness in my heart. A darkness I’m still fighting to leave behind. The things I did, the things I saw others doing … All that violence follows me like a shadow, a dark reminder I can turn my back to but can never get rid of it.
For a long time after escaping, I had panic attacks without any warning. Suddenly, I was out breath, chest heavy as my heart pounded fast and sweat ran freely over my face. I can only describe it as drowning on land, a feeling of inescapable death. It got better as the months dragged on, but, sometimes, I still feel like someone is holding my heart in the palm of their hand, ready to crush it as punishment for everything horrible I did to survive. And one person in particular could’ve been justified.
I shake my head. I can’t think about Liam right now. Our time together in Bonita is in the past. I can’t change what happened. It’s done. I need to focus on my mother.
More than that, I need to concentrate on this crazy deal I made with the leader of the biggest cartel in the country. Suffice it to say, I don’t sleep a wink. Instead, I toss and turn in my sleeping bag. Closing my eyes is impossible.
I greet the morning light with heavy eyes. As usual, I prepare Mother’s breakfast, but my gaze wanders to the front door every now and then. After giving her a bath, I sit on the floor next to the wall, and then fiddle with my hands, waiting.
During those moments, a million doubts fill me. It dawns on me that I’ll be away from my mother for days. What will happen to her while I’m gone? What if she escapes and is lost forever? Fear twists my insides. I don’t know what I would do if she dies while I’m away.
It crosses my mind to steal the cure and run away from Diego, but I still have no idea where it is. It was a long shot yesterday; it’s an impossible one today. I have no element of surprise, and now he knows not only where I live, but also my mother’s situation. Right now, the cure is most likely safely locked away in a secret underground vault that only he knows the combination to.
No. My hands are tied. For now, at least.
Someone knocks on the door. I stand straight, and, with a sigh, open the door.
Diego greets me with a smile. “I thought this time I would be polite.” He steps inside without invitation anyway, a whiff of a musky cologne trailing behind him. His hair is also gelled.
But none of that surprises me as much as the presence of Ana Cruz, standing by the threshold of my shack in a camouflaged uniform, a scowl on her battered face. And behind her, a group of people loiters. After all his talk about not trusting anyone, I thought we would travel alone.
It seems I was wrong. And also somewhat disappointed. Deep down.
“Is this the thief?” Ana Cruz spits, eyeing me from head to toe between slow blinks. “I was expecting more.”
Diego, who again strolls around the place with ease, waves at her to come inside. “Yes, that’s Isabel. Isabel, this is Ana Cruz Ortega. Ana is here to help us plan our trip to Bonita. She’s my right-hand woman, and one of my most trusted soldiers.”
I turn to face him, ready to ask what the hell is happening, but his deadpan expression and knowing gaze shuts me up. What game is he playing?
Unaware of my confusion, Ana Cruz marches inside, lips pursed as she surveys the room. She’s carrying a rifle on her right shoulder, a gun in a leg holster, and knife in her belt. Ready for a fight, as always.
When she stops by the bedroom door, I tense up, my hands clenching into fists.
“The thing is inside?” She doesn’t bother to hide the disgust in her voice.
I step between her and the door, nostrils flaring. “She’s not a thing. She’s my mother.”
Ana Cruz sucks her lips in, but steps back. “Mother or not, she could destroy my town with one bite. You should count yourself lucky I didn’t find you first, thief.”
“That’s enough, Ana. Let me worry about Isabel’s mother. We are here because of Alex.” Diego reaches for his back pocket, and then unfolds a map over the kitchen’s counter, signaling us to come near him. “We have a lot to discuss.”
I move closer for a better view of the detailed drawing of Guavina. We’re tiny compared to other countries of the continent, so tiny nobody bothered to know we existed until refugees started crossing borders. Many infected people slipped through our neighbor country’s blockades, and now we’re shunned and hated by nearly everyone, even if most refugees aren’t actually sick.
Punta Franca is a small point in the middle of a vast jungle. My former home and our capital, Rio Alto, stands deeper inland. And in between them is the Mayo River, its broad waters cutting the way toward the sea and the infamous Bonita. The island is a dot five miles off the north coast. We aren’t that far from it. From there, it took me one week to find Punta Franca, and I had no idea where I was going. Only that I needed to keep moving south—and away from Bonita.
Ana Cruz rests her index finger on the island. “First, tell us everything you know about Bonita. We heard rumors, but since you claim you were there personally, I’m sure you can provide details and not just parrot horror stories made to scare children.”
She openly glares at me. I cross my arms, but I don’t run from her mocking eyes.
“Bonita housed a mining facility used by the National Mining Company to explore the coal mines under the island. On the surface, they built apartment blocks for the miners, along with warehouses to store the coal. Right now, all these buildings are in the hands of survivors who banded together to protect themselves
from the infected. Some are just trying to stay alive, but there are groups who are more interested in exploiting the weak and winning favors from the Army.”
Back when General Ortiz arrived in Rio Alto with his troops, he promised to quell the chaos and help the sick. Instead, he forcibly took them, and their families, away to a place where soldiers abused their power with impunity.
Guns were given to certain people for money, then later for sex, for dirty work, and for who knows what else. Because of corrupt soldiers, men like Ezequiel, an ex-con for whom I was forced to work for, took over the island. His rules were simple enough—kneel or drop dead.
Ana Cruz’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “What about its defenses?”
“Ortiz built a twenty-foot concrete wall around the whole island. Since Bonita is pretty small, he was able to do it fairly quickly. Patrols walk the wall day and night.”
“Do soldiers patrol the grounds?” she asks.
“No. We were left to fend for ourselves. They are too afraid of being infected.”
“What about watchtowers?”
“Four. One at each corner of the island, where snipers and spotlights search for any climbers.”
Ana Cruz frowns. “And how did you manage to get past all of that?”
“I went under everything.” I point at a spot near the north coast. “There’s a coastal camp here, built to connect Bonita to the mainland. The camp has an entrance to an undersea tunnel that ends at the mines. Back then, they used it to transport heavy equipment and coal faster than by boat.”
Ana Cruz and Diego trade looks. She frowns. “Why aren’t Ortiz’s men guarding this place?”
“The mines have been closed after being depleted. They aren’t on the Army’s radar. Supposedly, the company closed the connecting tunnel before they left the island, but smugglers opened it again a few years back.”
Deadly Hearts: A Post Apocalyptic Romance Novel Page 3
