Corrupt

by Elena M. Reyes

  Three are from Laura, and I ignore those for now—her never-ending questions about Signio—and focus on the last one instead.

  Unknown number at 8:45 a.m.

  My heart feels as though it’s galloping inside my chest, and I swipe across to enter my pin. At once, the words on my screen cause a smile to stretch across my lips and a giggle to slip through.

  Two days, Preciosa. You owe me a kiss.

  “Something you want to share, Solimar?” Mom’s voice cuts through the Alejandro-induced fog I’ve been under.

  Tossing my phone aside after closing the screen, I look over at her by the now-closed door. “Morning.” Mom eyes my cell and frowns. It’s fingerprint protected, so she can’t read the messages without my cooperation. “Any reason why you didn’t knock? Something going on?”

  “Your father just left and won’t be back until tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” I drag the word out, raising a brow. We haven’t been on the best of terms since my return from the Lucas hacienda, and her secretiveness puts me on edge, especially after dropping the news that she’s leaving Dad with no plan or further explanation.

  “He has a meeting in Cali today with large donors looking to push an amendment supporting the deforestation in Tama and the installation of an ‘eco-friendly’ lodge.”

  “And how do you know this?” Because sharing isn’t my father’s forte.

  “I listened in on a conversation he had with Signio’s father last night. They were here to see you.”

  My hackles rise and I sit up, brows scrunched in confusion. “Why do they want to see me?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” Mom walks further into the room, grabs the dainty chair in front of my vanity, and places it at the foot of my bed. “Something you want to tell me, Solimar?” The look on her face is inquisitive-meets-fear as if she already knows the mess I’m in and doesn’t have a clue what to do. “Is it the reason my baby girl was grinning from ear to ear and your fiancé looks like someone took a bat to him?”

  “W-what?”

  “Have you not seen Signio?”

  “No.”

  “Interesting.” Her eyes, so much like mine, flick toward the device on my bed and then back at me. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

  “Mind explaining your ‘coming soon’ disappearing act?”

  “Touché.”

  Deciding to be the bigger adult in this situation, I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I met someone.”

  It’s low and nearly mumbled, but you’d think I screamed it from the top of my lungs by the way she jumps up and points at me. There’s also a bit of squealing and some thank you, Jesus, thrown in the mix.

  After she has her moment, Mom sits and primly crosses her legs while watching me with schooled features. “Do I know this young man? What family does he—”

  I cut her off with a hand up. “Stop.”

  “Mamita, this could help you dissolve this engagement. Your dad will have no choice but to let you out of—”

  Flopping back on the bed, I sigh. “No. He won’t.”

  The sudden sadness in my tone catches her attention, and Mom abandons the chair for a place on my bed. For the first time in years, she lies beside me in silence, contemplating life, or her decisions, while I try to explain myself without giving anything away.

  Silence looms between us for a while, and just when I think I’ll blurt it all out, she clears her throat. “I met someone, too,” she says so low that I imagine hearing wrong, but when I turn my face and see the guilt, a sick feeling begins to churn in my gut. There is shock and confusion, but I hold no anger toward her. None at all, because the man she married way before I was born is no longer here. He abandoned her for my grandfather’s idiotic ideology. “Before you judge, let me explain.”

  “I’m not.”

  “He’s just a friend and wants to help.” I don’t miss the softness with a bit of wistfulness in her expression. “We’ve known each other since our school days and he is offering me a way out of this mess.” Mom grips my hand and squeezes it. “Your father’s empire will collapse, and I can’t allow him to drag us down with him. He doesn’t care, but I do. My babies will not end up dead because of his greed.”

  “Alejandro would never allow that.” Christ. The words slip past my lips before I can catch myself, but they don’t make them any less true. I know he’s watching out for me. That Carlos and others are near in case I need them.

  She sits up abruptly and narrows her eyes. “What Alejandro are you talking about?”

  “A friend.”

  “Solimar, what Alejandro? What’s his full name.”

  “Why does it matter?” Slipping from the bed, I walk over to the small seating area where a pair of yoga pants lay atop an oversized chaise and grab them. I shimmy into them, doing the universal jump in place routine all women do, before giving her the most honest answer I can without spilling it all. “He’s very protective of me, and that should be all that matters.”

  “Baby, please tell me he’s not using—”

  “Why don’t you tell me your friend’s name.” Her lips snap shut, and I raise a brow. “Hagale. Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “So make it easy.”

  A sudden bout of giggles takes over her and she waves off my confused expression. What the? “I already know, Sol. Mr. Lucas came to see me the same night you came back from—”

  “He did what?” It leaves me on a screech, and I’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for the shock of her admission. Why wouldn’t he tell me? Text me?

  “Quit cutting me off, missy. It’s rude.”

  “Sorry...” my countenance is contrite as I walk back over and sit on the edge where she’s perched now “...but when exactly did it happen? Where?”

  “Don’t worry about that, Sol. I’m more concerned—hurt by the fact you kept falling in love from me. Do you not trust me?”

  “Of course I do, but coming to share the news with their history isn’t feasible.”

  “I could care less about some bullshit your grandfather started.”

  “You really don’t care?”

  “No.”

  “Thank God.” My exhale is heavy, and the relief is instant. “Keeping to myself and avoiding this topic is exhausting.” There’s a vibrating behind us and I reach back, picking up my cell and hitting ignore when I see it’s Laura calling me. Mom gives me a funny look. “She won’t leave me alone.”

  “Something is up with that one.” She clicks her tongue in distaste.

  A snort escapes. “You mean, other than chasing Signio?”

  “Yes, smarty. Something about her involvement with him gives me a bad vibe.”

  “Me too.” For a beat, we’re both quiet, but when there’s a knock on my door and Carlos asks if he can come in, I take note of the smile on her face. The way her eyes light up even though his tapping is a bit hurried. “Oh my God!”

  “Kid, stop.”

  “Carlos, Mom? He’s who you were talking about?”

  “There’s nothing to confirm.”

  “We’ll see.” With my eyes on hers, I smirk. “Come in, Carlos.”

  “Sol!”

  “Veronica?” we say in unison, and Mom’s reaction mimics mine the second he steps into the room. Something isn’t right. His expression is one of worry, and more so with her here. “We need to leave, Solimar. Now.”

  “What? Why?” Mom pleads, but he’s shaking his head and walking toward my vanity to pick up a pair of sandals I left there. “Talk to me, Carlitos. Q’hubo?”

  My guard stops and turns to face us; he’s angry. “Your father knows, kiddo. He knows about your relationship with Alejandro.”

  26

  “WHERE ARE YOU?” I hiss out, holding my phone in a tight grip while those in the room watch me. I’m standing with my back to them, not giving a single fuck about what they think while calling my little flower’s guard. “Is she sa
fe?”

  “We’re on our way out of Bogota and toward your home, Patron.” I can make out Solimar’s voice in the background, but there’s a secondary female tone that catches my attention. “No one saw us leave.”

  “Who else?” There’s no need for me to elaborate; I know more than Carlos would like. I’m well aware of where his loyalties lay and why.

  There’s a small pause and those around him grow quiet. “Mother and son.”

  “Those were not the instructions I gave you.”

  “And I take full responsibility.”

  “I respect that.” Accepting the glass my brother offers with a few fingers’ worth of rum, I take a few small sips. “It was a smart move and I’m glad you did for Solimar’s sake, but next time ask before you react. In the future, I’d hate to have to put a bullet between your eyes.”

  “Si, Patron.”

  I disconnect the call and turn once again to face the room. My brother and his wife, Daniel, and my mother along with Chiquito’s family are here. His two military buddies are tied up, and his younger brother is a bloody mess on the floor of a large warehouse Emiliano owns.

  Then, I have his bruised wife. She was found by her cousin and a few of my men, bound and beaten after being left for dead a few miles from their home. Salazar is missing and so is my sister. Salazar is missing and his wife is deathly afraid of her own shadow after being abused by the man who swore before God to love and protect her.

  Closing my eyes, I try to regain even a small semblance of rationality. I’m past angry. I’m past the stage of rage. This is a territory I’ve never ventured into, but welcome.

  I keep trying to understand why Lourdes would do something like this. How did it get past the security I keep around them and the many employees that help run the house, and after searching for a bit, I noticed a discrepancy. Each time Salazar came for her, a friend would pick her up and then drop Lourdes off after her date, while he waited at a nearby restaurant. The owner confirmed as much.

  Then, you have my sister’s manipulative abuse of that same friend with a nasty cocaine habit and the willingness to do anything for a hit. Lourdes used her, something out her natural character, and I’ve made it so she gets the helps she needs. She’s been shipped to a convent and will spend some time there getting clean and finding her faith.

  My sister purposely hid this from me. Everyone.

  My sister slept with a married man, not caring about who she’d hurt in the process.

  And while I’m still furious, that anger has ebbed a bit after listening to the recording the day she disappeared. My fury, which has been unleashed on everyone that’s had a small role in helping her hide this, has simmered into a manageable state where I think before pulling the trigger.

  She threatened him with me, and he forced her to leave in fear of retaliation…

  My wrath, or that of Quintero.

  Salazar has made a mess of things and the clock is ticking—unforgiving.

  My eyes shift across the room and land on the two men bound with their hands up and in an “X” position. They stand on the tip of their toes, and with each shift of their weight to alleviate pressure on their joints, the handcuffs clang against the metal bars.

  I walk forward after passing my brother the offered drink without a word and flick open a small pocketknife. The blade is small in comparison to my other toys but is as sharp as a scalpel, and when I stop in front of the older of the two and lift his chin, his eyes widen.

  His fear is palpable.

  His urine stains the floor below.

  “Do you remember now?”

  “Patron, this is a mistake. We’d never do anything against your family.” Not once does he meet my eyes. Instead, they remain on the blade as I bring it closer to his chin. The cold steel makes him flinch on contact, and a pathetic whimper passes through his lips. “Chiquito—”

  “Has a lot to explain, but at the moment, I want to hear from you. Jimmy, where is she?” He’s trembling, sweat rolling down the side of his face, but get no reply. “I won’t ask again. Where is my sister?”

  Closing my eyes, I begin to count. At the five mark, my hand shoots out and the blade embeds itself deep into his right side. Two more seconds and I twist, enjoying the way his flesh tears and blood pours from the wound.

  “Please stop,” Salazar’s brother says low from the floor, body writhing in pain. “We don’t know where they are.”

  “So Lourdes is with him.” Not a question as we both know the truth. I have video surveillance from my mother’s home the night he took her. It’s clear as day. Undeniable. “Where?”

  “He took her—”

  “Cállese, hijueputa!” The man beside Jimmy, the quieter of the three yells out, and I smile. The action causes him to shrink back when I turn from his friend to him. “Let us go, Mr. Lucas.”

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t make out what you said beneath the rattle of your teeth.” Turning my head, I meet my mother’s stare and then Emiliano’s. “Did you two get that?”

  “No, Hijo.”

  “No, brother. Not a word.”

  “Daniel?”

  “No, Patron. Unintelligible.”

  I turn back with a raised brow. “Repeat. No one here speaks bullshit mumbles.”

  “This is false imprisonment and is punishable by time in jail.”

  Four distinct laughs reverberate throughout the warehouse, but it’s my mom’s that sticks out. It’s also coming closer, from right beside me now, and I don’t stop her when she throws her arm back and forward, breaking the glass of water she’d been drinking from in Juan’s face.

  Multiple gashes appear at once. Some small and some deep, but I don’t pay the rivulets rolling from each any mind and take her hand in mine, inspecting it.

  I won’t fault her for wanting to hurt these three sons of bitches, but getting injured while doing so isn’t allowed.

  “Close and open your hand, please.”

  “I’m fine. Promise.”

  “Humor me.” With a huff, she does as I ask, and her movement seems fine. There’s also no sign of pain, and when Mom sees I’m satisfied, she rolls her eyes. “You still have two cuts I want looked at.”

  “Superficial.”

  “No arguing.”

  “You’re a good son. Both of you.” Emiliano, who is now on the other side of me, reaches over to squeeze her hand before we turn our attention back to our guests. Ire pours from our veins and patience is running thin, each one addressing a wounded man.

  Blood stains the floor below as blows are landed, cuts are made, and stab wounds are added to the list of injuries. However, it’s as I bring the wooden handle down across Jimmy’s nose, shattering the bone and opening a gash over the bridge, that the little brother decides to speak.

  “He’s taking her out of the country, Mr. Lucas.”

  “Where, kid?”

  “To Venezuela, with the help of the Cortez family and the president.” Emiliano’s hold on the back of his neck is tight as he holds him up, carrying most of his weight as Edwin’s bruised body sags from lack of strength. He’s the most innocent of the three, but his hands are dirty, and this will be his atonement. “Chiquito will have immunity in exchange for your capture.”

  “Thank you, Edwin. I appreciate the cooperation in this—”

  “He’s lying!” Juan’s a bloody mess with over thirty cuts varying in sizes adorning his flesh. “Let us go and I’ll tell you the truth. Who’s really involved.”

  “You’re a piece of shit, and your mother will be ashamed,” Mom spits out after delivering a shallow slice across his neck. “Rot in hell.”

  After leaving her request with that action, she retakes her seat on the other side of Chiquito’s soon-to-be widow, entwining their fingers together in support while Daniel waits patiently. He’s been silent and following my orders to stand back, but his moment is coming.

  The two bullets in my 1911 are a gift.

  “Tell me, parce. Win me over with y
our bountiful knowledge.” As I say this, Daniel presses a few buttons on the remote control I’d placed in his hand earlier today. The whirling of mechanical parts moving fills the room as does the voice of Salazar from Mom’s property as the screen lowers and flashes—the scene now playing matching the words coming from the soon-to-be-a-dead-man’s mouth.

  “We need to leave, Lourdes. That son of a bitch brother of yours will be on us soon enough.”

  “Did you leave her?” Lourdes's voice is angry, her body language tense. “Are you getting a divorce like you swore you would that first night?”

  “Mi amor, don’t be like that.” He tugs her against his chest, a move she tries to fight, but she gives in when he pecks her lips. “You know where my heart lies.”

  “Quit your lies. Quit hurting her.” Her face is pinched with anger while trying to pull away. “When a relationship is over, mutually you break things off. There’s no taking your time or a few months of planning a separation down the road. Over means done. No more.”

  “Now you care about my wife?”

  “I won’t deny making some bad choices and owing her more than an apology. We should’ve never been, and I see that now.”

  “You don’t mean that.” His tone is tinged with anger at her words. “You love me.”

  “Love and hate walk a very fine line.”

  “She means nothing to me, Lulu. You know that.”

  “Answer the question, Chiquito. Are you or—”

  “Enough. No more questions.” His hold becomes tight and my sister whimpers, yelps to be let go. “Shut the fuck up before someone comes looking, Lulu. You don’t want your mother or sister-in-law to end up in a body bag because their curiosity will kill the cat.”

  “Let me go, and leave. I never want to see you again.”

  He barks out a laugh, sardonic and cocky. “No one is taking you from me.”

  “I’m not yours,” Lourdes sneers, but you can hear the fear. See it in the way she shakes.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, you stupid little cunt.” Salazar brings his lips to hers once more, biting the bottom one and when he pulls back, there’s blood there. “After I turn Alejandro in to the Quintero family, no one can save you. I’ll make sure Emiliano, Daniel, and every last brown-nosing soldier under his command will die with the help of Signio Cortez before the sun comes up.”