I just wanted something of him. His attention. Even if it meant his wrath. I wanted it. The feel of his body, his touch, his desire. And I got it. I knew he wanted to make people hurt, so I gave him the chance to hurt me. The conflict showed in his eyes, the slight hesitations he made. He was so afraid of really hurting me, but I wasn’t, because I knew he wouldn’t. He was more afraid of himself than I was of him.
But with whatever I got, it was even worse when it was taken away. Now I was aching for more and saddled with this uncomfortable feeling that there never would be. That it was over between us. And there would be nothing left for me.
Juanito strolled into the kitchen to get something from the fridge. Dinner had been served by our cook, Alberto, but I had eaten alone. Esteban ate elsewhere. I’m not sure the last time Javier had dinner with me, and Juanito seemed to fend for himself.
“Hungry again?” I asked him as he pulled a plate of leftovers out.
He looked sheepish. “I didn’t eat earlier.”
I’d never seen him have dinner with us. I wanted to ask Javier how he was being treated — lately his young face looked years older, gaunt and ashen, and his eyes were dull. But I didn’t dare approach Javier with this stuff now. Before Alana, yes. But not after. Funny, I had started to think of life as Before AD and After AD (Alana’s Death). Besides, Juanito was probably getting high on his own supply. Many of the narcos did, though the worst Javier did was drink. Even now, it was only booze that Javier occasionally dipped into.
That, and murder.
Juanito was in charge of our finances after Javier was through with them, just going over the boring stuff like an accountant. There’s a price to dealing with large sums of money when you’re trading in a billion dollar industry: you pay the pisa to plazas, dock handling charges, shipping costs, trucks, labor, equipment, security. Juanito was learning where the money went after it came to us. I knew that Javier had plans for him when he was ready, but I didn’t know what they were. For now, he just did whatever Javier passed down to Esteban.
I patted the seat next to me. “Sit down.” He stared at me, hesitant. I flashed him a smile, which I knew was relaxed and easy, maybe even sloppy, thanks to the wine. I’d already had three glasses.
“Okay,” he said. He seemed jumpy. He sat down beside me, and it was then that I noticed he had rope burns around his wrists. I stared at them for a moment, trying to figure out what they could be from. He caught me looking and gave me a sheepish look. But he didn’t explain.
“I don’t think I’ve talked to you much lately,” I said, trying to put him at ease. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he said flatly. He smiled and nodded, as if to convince himself. “Very good. Excited about the move.”
“The move?” I asked, then remembered what Este had said about bringing us to a ranch somewhere when the federale was captured. I’d wanted to talk about it more with Javier but, well, that didn’t happen.
“Oh,” Juanito said slowly, reading my face. “I meant our move. You’re staying here. Right?”
I frowned. “I don’t see why I would.”
He blinked, now unsure. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”
“What?!” I exclaimed, nearly knocking over my glass. I saved it just in time and swore under my breath.
“You don’t know?” Juanito said, and now there was fear in his eyes. I was too angry to coddle him.
I got up, my chair sliding noisily across the tile floor. “Do I look like I know?”
“Please don’t tell Este I told you,” he pleaded to me, his eyes now filled with fear.
I pursed my lips for a moment. Why would I tell Este? Juanito should be fearing Javier. And I was sure he would after I was done with him.
“I’m talking to my husband. Your patron.” And your patron, I thought to myself, who wants to keep you in the dark for as long as he can.
Not if I could help it.
I marched out of the kitchen, hearing Juanito curse to himself as I left. I went straight down the hall to my husband’s office and nodded at Diego standing guard outside of it.
“I need to speak with him,” I said, seething, my heart racing wildly in my throat.
I couldn’t see Diego’s eyes behind his dark aviator shades which he liked to wear, even inside. I only saw my reflection. I looked like a mess of a woman. I was a mess of a woman.
“He asked for no one to disturb him,” Diego said calmly.
“Is he busy getting some puta?” I asked, and he balked slightly at that.
“I don’t know what Javier does,” he said, even though I bet he knew exactly what Javier did. Bet he handed out the condoms. “But I have my orders.”
“And you realize I’m not going to obey them,” I told him. “I pay your salary too.”
He seemed to fall asleep on his feet before I realized he was probably staring at me and thinking. Then he took in a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Javier immediately barked, “I said fuck off!”
“He is in a bad mood, senora,” Diego said to me in a low voice. “Things didn’t quite go as he planned today.”
I raised my brows. “Today?”
“With the federale.”
I stared blankly at him. He tilted his head then nodded, realizing I didn’t know anything.
To his credit, he continued. “Javier was adamant that no one get killed. One of the federales reached for his gun and our sicario reacted. The federale is dead. But we do have Evaristo Sanchez now, as planned. Javier will get over it.”