Cartel Wives

by Mia Flores

  Olivia

  “Show them to me,” said Chapo.

  Junior pulled the ledgers out his backpack, and together, they started flipping through the pages.

  “You’re moving a lot of work,” Chapo said, and Junior nodded. “Chapillo, please go get my cuentas.” He ran to fetch them, then handed them to his boss.

  The drug lord spent the next few minutes comparing dates, pointing from Junior and Peter’s ledgers to the notes he’d taken. He cross-checked numbers, nodded his head when he saw they lined up, and said, “Good, good,” when he got to the bottom of a line item that showed a payment had been received on the correct date. It went on like this for probably fifteen minutes until Chapo slammed his notebook shut.

  “Your numbers are good. You have been making the payments.”

  “Yes, Señor.”

  “I’m going to help you. But first, you need to settle things with Pablo. I’ll send my people with you.”

  “Thank you, Señor.”

  “After you fix it with Pablo, I want you to come back to see me.”

  Junior extended his hand to Chapo. “Absolutely. It was an honor to meet you, and I won’t let you down. You have my word.”

  Then Chapo turned his back, and Junior was escorted away by two armed guards.

  Mia

  Two days later, Junior drove up to our house. I’m not sure what I was expecting, maybe this romantic reunion between him and Olivia, or maybe that he’d walk right in the door with Peter. All I know was that I sure as hell wasn’t expecting him to come back with a group of guys I’d never seen before.

  “They’re Chapo’s people,” he said. “They’re going to be here a few days, staying in the back. I’ll tell you the whole story soon, but right now I’ve got to take care of them.”

  Olivia

  Chapo’s associates were there to help Junior settle things with Pablo, but they’d also come to make sure that everything Junior had said at the palapa was true. In fact, they were going to put it on tape. It wasn’t like Chapo was just going to send out his guys to rescue someone he couldn’t truly believe in. He wasn’t going to just say, “Okay, go get Peter!” Junior had to earn that trust.

  For the next two weeks, that’s all he did. They were constantly at the house, sitting around or talking to Junior and getting to know him. They couldn’t have been more polite if they’d tried, but still, they were just there. Poor Mia was a miserable, worried wreck, and I was so sick I was living on saltines and Gatorade, but we put on our happy faces and made them feel at home. Our chefs cooked for them. Our housekeepers cleaned up after them. Soon, they warmed up to our family so much that they actually wanted to help us. Their hearts were in the right place, and being there stopped feeling like a job for them.

  Then one day, Junior got the word that it was time to leave with them and go settle things with Pablo. If he was lucky, after that, Peter just might be freed.

  CHAPTER 10

  Rescuing Peter

  Mia

  The morning Junior left town with Chapo’s workers Raul and Gordo, I was so tired I could hardly say goodbye. I’d been exhausted for weeks. Every time someone knocked on the door, I thought I was about to get a package with Peter’s finger in it. I kept having nightmares that someone had sent Peter’s head to our house, and when I woke up sweating, I’d lie in bed convinced that he was dead. Olivia was the only person I could really talk to, and sometimes even that didn’t feel great because I was so jealous of her. She had a fiancé and a baby on the way, and she was planning her wedding. She had a life ahead of her, and I had shit. She tried her best to reassure me and never talked about herself, but nothing she said could truly help.

  Olivia

  I practically pushed Junior and Chapo’s guys out the door the morning they left to settle things with Uncle Pablo and, hopefully, free Peter. The days were passing, and I knew he was suffering.

  But I’d watched Junior win Chapo’s people’s trust all week, and I could see the hope on his face. He was determined to get his brother back, even if it was the last thing he did.

  Mia and I were on pins and needles all day, waiting for him to call.

  “Do you think something went wrong? Why hasn’t he called?” Mia kept saying.

  “It’s fine. We gotta trust Junior.” In my mind, though, I was just as scared as she was.

  Finally, my phone rang late that night. It was Junior.

  “Baby, what happened?” I asked and put it on speaker so Mia could hear, too.

  “I’m okay. It’s going to be okay. But, fucking Pablo. I don’t even know who that man is anymore.”

  “Just tell us what happened.”

  For the next ten minutes, Mia and I didn’t say a thing while he talked.

  Mia

  Junior had arrived at Pablo’s house a few hours after he left home. He wasn’t alone; he had four men with him: two of his own workers named Raul and Gordo, and Chapo and Mochomo’s men, Juan and Paco. No one was armed. After all, they were convinced it wasn’t going to turn violent.

  Junior knocked on Pablo’s door, and when it opened he was escorted in by someone from the state police, who apparently was protecting Pablo. When he stepped aside, there was Pablo, his hand extended toward Junior, like nothing had happened. When Junior refused to shake it, the police officer put a gun to his head.

  “Motherfucker, I will have you killed if you disrespect me in my house,” Pablo said as the police officer pushed Junior down to a seated position in a chair, jamming the gun into the back of his head.

  Juan stepped in. “We have orders from Señor.”

  “I’ve been going up to those mountain tops for thirty years,” Pablo answered. “You think I’m going to let you come and fuck it up?” Then Pablo grabbed his Classic 1911 Special 45, which he always carried, and pistol-whipped Junior.

  Junior was not going to sit there and just take it, even if the truth was going to cost him his life. He only had his word, and he wasn’t going to let some greedy, deranged man take that from him. The more Junior spoke, though, the more livid Pablo became. He realized he was looking like a liar.

  But what he didn’t know was that Chapo’s people were getting it all on tape.

  Olivia

  Things suddenly shifted. One of the police officers who’d been protecting Pablo changed his mind and said, “Stop hitting him! Let him go!”

  Pablo was stunned. “What the hell do you mean? You’re on his side now?”

  “Yes. We have orders from Señor.”

  Orders are orders, and if they’re broken, they could cost you your life. But Pablo didn’t care. Instead of dropping the gun, he just kept hitting Junior until Tony started yelling. “Pa! Por favor!” But his dad gave him a look of death, and Tony backed down.

  “I want my money, Junior! Give me the money!” Pablo was out of his fucking mind, and Junior was sure he was going to pop him and his brother in the head just for making him look like a fool.

  Junior turned to Tony and pleaded with him. “Tony, you know we’ve been making payments. Why are you doing this? How could you let your dad hurt us like this? We loved you all like family.”

  Tony paused. He knew his dad had to be stopped, so he said, firmly, “Cálmate, Pa.”

  Apparently, hearing that pissed off Pablo so much that he didn’t just refuse to stop; he backhanded Junior across the face one last time. He couldn’t believe his own son was siding with Junior.

  Finally, Chapo’s men intervened.

  “Pablo, we have orders from Señor for you to end this. You will not kill los cuates. Señor will be contacting you once we get back to Culiacán.”

  Reluctantly, Pablo dropped the gun and nodded his head. He’d just agreed to negotiate Peter’s release. Then, as Junior proceeded to walk out of the house, the state police stopped him.

  “Please tell Señor that this was all a misunderstanding,” he said as he handed him his card. “I believe you, and I’m here a su servicio [at your service].”

 
Mia

  Junior came back to Guadalajara right away, bruised but alive, but Peter didn’t. His release was still going to take some time. Chapo’s people had to get the word back to him, then Señor had to call Pablo. I’m sure Pablo was scared for his life knowing he was caught in a lie and behind a kidnapping that never should have happened. His plan had backfired, and he never thought in a million years that Chapo would find out.

  I was so relieved to see Junior. I’d been worried sick Pablo was going to kill him, and Junior had a baby on the way and loved Olivia so much. But still, I couldn’t take the agony of Peter being gone anymore. I missed him so much my heart hurt.

  Olivia

  Junior headed back to the mountaintop with Juan and Chapillo Lomas. When he got there, Chapo was furious with Pablo.

  “I just lost my brother, so I can imagine how you must be feeling,” Chapo said. “I still want my ten million fully repaid, but remember: you can make up the money later, but you can never replace your brother.” Then Chapo relaxed. “When your debt is settled, I want you and your brother to come back and see me. We need people like you.”

  “Yes, Señor,” Junior responded.

  Chapo waved for German Olivares, his chief executive and right-hand man, to make arrangements for the payment with Junior. Then he was dismissed.

  Mia

  Peter’s second kidnapping had begun much as the first had: with crooked cops.

  When Peter went to his Uncle Pablo’s house to settle things up with him, the first thing he did was walk up to his cousin Tony and hug him.

  “Where’s Uncle Pablo?” he asked, and Tony made an excuse. Minutes later, he heard a bang at the back door, and fifteen to twenty men in full SWAT gear and ski masks barged in, shouting “Policía federal!”

  Upon entering, one of the policemen hit Peter in the mouth and stomach with a rifle, then beat him in the back till he fell to the floor. He could hear them struggling with Tony, too, and it sounded just as bad as what was happening to him. Then the cop pulled him to his knees, shoved his face into the sofa to suffocate him, and screamed, “You’re fucking going back to the United States, you piece of shit!” Worrying about Pablo—wherever he might be—Peter yelled at the police, “Leave the old man alone!”

  Next, the officer stripped Peter to his underwear, blindfolded him, wrapped his head with masking tape, and dragged him out the door to a police vehicle, where he threw him in the back. They drove him through the mountains to a remote town midway between San Juan and Guadalajara.

  He sat outside, freezing cold, till the morning. The kidnappers returned and woke him up with a gun to his head.

  “Get the fuck up!” they screamed.

  Peter wasn’t thinking about himself. “Is the old man okay?” he asked. But they wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

  They dragged Peter to a pickup truck and laid him in it, flat. One kidnapper pressed his boots into Peter’s ribs, which was excruciating after all the beatings he’d endured. Then they drove to a shack, where they taped his feet and threw him down on the cold floor.

  Olivia

  Each morning, Peter’s kidnappers woke him up by putting a gun to his head and cocking it. They asked the same question every day: “Who do you work for?” He never answered, so they’d hit him across the face and say, “You think you’re slick. I’ve heard you sell tons of work in the United States, and you have all these fancy horses. Tell me who the fuck you work for. Do you work with El Chapo and El Mayo?”

  “No,” Peter answered.

  His captors laughed. “Listen, before the day’s over I’m going to make you tell me who you fucking work for.”

  Peter didn’t eat anything for several days and became disoriented from dehydration.

  He was forced to use a bucket as a toilet, while a gun was pointed at him. He began to look so bad that the kidnappers called someone on their radio and asked, “Should I kill him now? He’s dying already.”

  Mia

  Peter was so weak he didn’t even ask the kidnappers to spare his life. The only strength that kept him going was the thought of me. If they don’t kill me, if I make it through this, Peter told himself, I’ll marry Mia.

  Four weeks into his kidnapping, it was Mexican Mother’s Day, May 10. Peter could hear church bells ringing, calling all mothers to the service, and he thought about what his poor, sweet mom must be going through. Tied up and abandoned in a dark room for hours on end, he’d almost given up hope, not just because of how vicious his treatment had been, but also because he knew people don’t usually come out alive from kidnappings in Mexico.

  While he sat and prayed for his life, he also worried about his Uncle Pablo and Cousin Tony, who he assumed were in captivity just like him. For weeks, no one had told him otherwise. He hoped they’d been freed, but for all he knew, they were living some nightmare somewhere, too.

  More significant than that, though, was the fact that he had no clue that his brother was already deep in negotiations to free him.

  Olivia

  A few days after Junior made his debt payment, Olivares contacted him.

  “Pablo’s not answering our calls,” Chapo’s right-hand man said. “But not to worry. We’ll fix it.”

  Hearing this was reassuring, but it wasn’t enough. Junior still hadn’t gotten word about Peter’s location, and he was so worried he wasn’t sleeping. Then, he got a call from an unknown number.

  “Hello?” he said. “Oh my God, Peter! Where are you?”

  Junior yelled at me and Mia to run into the room. When we got there, he put the phone on speaker.

  “I’m in the Sierra, but I don’t know where. I’m going to try to find a road.” Peter’s voice was cracking. “I don’t know how long my signal’s going to last, but I just need to talk.”

  “Baby, I love you,” said Mia.

  “I love you, too. I can’t wait to see you. It’s the thought of you that kept me alive.”

  Oh, God, poor Peter, I thought as tears of joy flowed down my cheeks. Then I looked at Junior and realized, He’s been selfless. I’ll admire him forever for doing the unbelievable, for saving Peter’s life.

  “They drove me into the mountains for probably an hour,” Peter said.

  He’s in the middle of fucking nowhere, I thought.

  “They dragged me out of the car, kicked me in the back of my legs, and let me fall to my knees. I was expecting a bullet in my head, but a man leaned down and put something in my shoe. It was the key to my handcuffs. Then he grabbed my hand and put a piece of paper in it. Junior, it was your number. He put a phone in my pocket, then told me to count to one hundred and not move, or else he’d kill me. Then he just walked away.”

  “I’m coming to get you,” said Junior.

  “Wait. Did they release Uncle Pablo and Tony?” he asked.

  Junior knew how fragile Peter was, and he didn’t want to upset him. “They’re fine, but it’s a long story. I’ll tell you everything when you’re home.”

  Then he snapped the phone shut.

  Mia

  Junior knew Peter had to be north, in the mountains outside of Guadalajara, so he ran out the door with Gordo and got in his car. It was late, and they had to save Peter before the sun came up.

  Olivia

  Junior drove over two hours north, through the darkness. There was only one road from Guadalajara to San Juan, so he knew that if he kept driving and calling his brother, he’d find him. He was terrified the whole time that Peter’s cell phone was going to die, but when he had service, he’d ring him up. “I’m getting close, Peter,” he’d say. “Just hang on.”

  Mia

  Peter was in the middle of the sierra, which was full of mountain lions and poisonous snakes that he knew might attack him at any moment. It was so dark most of the time he couldn’t make out his hand in front of him, and when he could see, everything was blurry because he’d had a blindfold on for weeks. He was too weak to walk, so he began crawling toward the road, using the flashlight on his phone
to guide him. He didn’t have much of a voice, but when his brother would call, he’d always answer.

  “I’m here. I’m okay. But I can’t see, so I don’t know where I am.”

  Olivia

  The road through the mountains was windy, but Junior knew it so well that he didn’t slow down. It was pitch black, and he realized that if he flashed his brights, Peter would see them from miles away, know it was him, and call him.

  “I see you,” Peter said. “You’re getting closer.”

  “But I don’t know how far you are,” said Junior. “Do you have a light?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not great. Do you hear those coyotes?”

  “I do.”

  “Drive toward them.”

  Sure enough, Peter was right near some coyotes, and as he held his phone out, Junior could hear them barking and howling through the phone. He drove toward them, listening to their wails grow louder and louder.

  Finally, Junior saw Pete’s little flashlight up ahead in the distance. He got closer and stopped in the middle of the road. He couldn’t pull over because he was on the edge of a cliff. Junior opened the door, and Peter crawled into the car, so skinny that he looked like a little old man. He burst into tears and grabbed Junior’s head because he had to see his brother’s face. Peter was in disbelief; he was convinced he was about to die.

  “Nothing is more important to me than you,” Peter said.