During those times, I’d sit up in bed, breathing hard and covered in sweat. Javier would reach for me, seemingly half asleep, and just hold my hand for a moment. Then he would pull me toward him and I’d be lulled to sleep in his arms. Sometimes he would brush the hair off my face and those burning eyes of his would light me on fire. We’d make love and make promises.
It had been like that for a while – his comfort, his presence … he never denied me anything. I knew I wouldn’t be accepted into his life so quickly, not by the members of his cartel. I’d gone from captor to lover in a short amount of time, and then from lover to wife soon after that. But he stood by me, ever so proud. He wouldn’t change his mind about me and my place in his life, and he’d slaughter anyone who dared to throw an unkind word my way.
For all his cunning ambition and ruthless ways, Javier Bernal really did love me. He was devoted and as much mine as I was his.
All those promises.
“Luisa.” A voice drifted over the brush, causing me to freeze.
Esteban came around the corner and gave me a lopsided smile.
“Here you are,” he said lazily.
I took my hand away from my chest, my heart beating like a drum, and looked down at the empty bottle in my hands. I felt utterly stupid, which was probably silly in itself considering this was my property and I could do whatever the damn well I wanted.
I also felt acutely disappointed that there really was no safe place left.
I cleared my throat and sat up straighter, even though looking regal was impossible when you were sitting on top of a damn bucket.
“You found me,” I said.
He folded his arms and peered down at me. “Dipping into the pinot again?”
I glared at him. “What’s your point?”
He shrugged. “No point. I was looking for you though.”
“Why?”
“Do I need a reason?”
Esteban and I didn’t always see eye to eye, though it pained me to say that lately it felt like he was the only friend I had. There was always Juanito, who was in his early twenties and an eager narco, but I think the boy was scared of me, which I found funny considering we both had to be around the same age. And Javier’s chief of security, a big brute of a man named Diego, was as quiet as they came. This was a shame because he was a smart man with a colorful past, and I was certain he had a million stories to tell.
Esteban, however, wasn’t quiet and wasn’t scared, and was there for me more often than not. Usually I found it annoying, how closely he tried to emulate Javier, how badly he wanted to be him. He’d tell you otherwise, of course, but Esteban was power hungry, bloodthirsty, and jealous beyond comprehension. He wasn’t very smart, though. His lackadaisical surfer approach to life wasn’t just an act, and no matter how badly he wanted to be in Javier’s shoes, he could never, ever become him.
Naturally, I also knew I shouldn’t underestimate people, and so with him I practiced more of a keep your friends close, enemies closer sort of relationship. While he could never become the patron, the ruler, the king, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t at some point try.
“I worry about you,” he said, crouching down to my level.
I rolled my eyes. “Please.”
He looked at the wine bottle. “I know things aren’t … well, I know how things are.”
I tucked the bottle on the other side of the bucket and gave him a pointed look. His green eyes were observing me a little too carefully, something I found off-putting.
“And what could you know?”
He rubbed his hand across his chin, seeming to think. “Well, I know Javier is uh … well, occupied most nights. I know where he goes and what he does.”
A knife sliced right into my heart. I tried to keep a blank face, a mask. Don’t let the mask slip, I told myself, and took in a quiet breath.
“Oh, is that right?” I asked, and winced once I heard the tremor in my voice.
His gaze softened and I hated the fucking sympathy I could see. Of all people, I didn’t want it from him. I didn’t want him to feel that he was any better than Javier or any better than me. Yes, I knew, damn it I fucking knew what Javier was doing with those girls, and I knew what happened to the girls after, too. I knew everything, but I wasn’t about to let him feel that made him better than us. Javier, for everything that had happened, for the person he’d become, was still my husband.
God, even the word husband pinched deep inside.
“Javier isn’t well,” I told him before he could say anything else.
He actually laughed. “Not well? That’s the understatement of the year.”
“It isn’t funny,” I said quietly.
“No?” He placed one hand on my thigh, peering at me closely. I sucked in my breath. “Then let’s not skirt around it. Javier has been compromised. He’s damaged in a way that is only going to hurt the business. It’s only going to hurt you.”
I tried to shrug away from him but his grip on my leg tightened.
“Don’t pretend anymore, Luisa,” he said in a hush. “You know the truth. Alana’s death … he couldn’t handle it. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He’s lost nearly all his sisters. His whole family. A man can look strong, but that doesn’t make him strong. Perhaps some might find it sentimental that he cares so much about his family after all, but powerful people can’t afford to be sentimental. He can’t afford to lose himself like this.” He shook his head. “No, it’s been long enough.”