After a while, I welcomed the pills.
Though Evaristo had been tortured, damaged, the fact that he was alive seemed to soften the federales attitudes toward us. Then again, Esteban told them that Javier wanted to kill him and Esteban went out of his way to ensure that wouldn’t happen.
It was a lie that did my head in but in my drugged state, I couldn’t do much but sleep and cry.
Esteban and I had been taken back to an unmarked facility in Culiacan that seemed to be half medical facility, half intelligence offices. I spent my days in a small room, with a nurse and I only saw Esteban on occasion or sometimes Ruiz. On my last day, I saw Evaristo who had been recovering nicely and had backed-up Esteban’s story, that he was the reason he was alive.
“Why are you lying?” I asked him, slurring my words as I tried to sit up.
Evaristo put his hands on my shoulders, holding me steady. “Because it doesn’t make any difference to your husband now. And believe it or not, Esteban’s lie is saving your life. You’ll walk out of here soon a free woman.”
“The federales never would have killed me,” I told him.
He smiled but didn’t say anything more.
Finally I was allowed to leave with Esteban. We were set loose on the streets and though it didn’t take long for Esteban to quickly wrangle up a car for us, I couldn’t help but feel that we were being watched with every step we took. Esteban might have traded Javier for our freedom but what kind of freedom would it be. I needed to escape somewhere far away, to get out from the shadow of the federales and the cartels.
But I couldn’t even do that. Because I was a useless mess.
For the first time since I left Cabo and walked off with Salvador Reyes, I knew I was nothing more than a lost little girl, powerless at the hands of men.
An SUV pulled up on the busy street and for a moment I thought Esteban would just let me walk away. Maybe I could disappear into the crowds and start my life over again. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be real and it would be mine.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Esteban quickly grabbed my arm and then opened the back door to the SUV, roughly shoving me inside. The doors all immediately locked and I was surprised to see Juanito in the driver’s seat.
He didn’t seem ashamed in the slightest. In fact, he looked proud as he glanced at me in the rear-view mirror, his posture straight and chin high.
As we drove through the city and then toward the hills, I couldn’t figure out if Juanito was acting for me or Esteban. After all, though Javier was in prison and none of us would probably see him again, as long as he was alive he would still run his business. That’s just how it worked and why so many government agents from both Mexico and America would rather the kingpins be dead. Dead was dead but prison hardly hampered their career.
It wasn’t until we arrived at the compound, my home, that I knew the stone cold truth.
This was no longer my home. It was no longer my compound.
I was no longer queen.
On the fence at the entrance, where the guard house was, the gardener Carlos’s head was on a post. He had been decapitated, blood dripping from his severed neck, his once genial face frozen in fear, in anguish, a warning of all that would happen to me.
I could only watch as we passed by, my stomach sinking as six or seven men with AK’s swarmed the vehicle, following us down the driveway. When we came to a stop, Esteban opened his door, then reached across for me and grabbed me by the hair. I yelped as he dragged me out of the car, threw me down on the cement.
The ground cut my knees and elbows and I tried to get to my feet but Esteban kicked me squarely in the shoulder. Pain radiated from my bones as I fell backward to the ground.
“You’re home, Luisa,” Esteban sneered. I brushed my hair away from my face, feeling like a panicked, cornered animal as the men gathered around me, Esteban standing in the middle of them all and staring down at me with a look of such utter superiority it made me sick.
There was no way he could just take over the cartel like this, not with Javier in prison. My husband had far too many people loyal to him to let this happen.
Yet, as I looked around wildly I couldn’t see a single familiar face. Only Juanito and from his eager, completely unapologetic expression I knew he wasn’t the Juanito I’d known.
Everyone was a stranger and I was in a hell of a lot of trouble.
I didn’t know what to do or say. I tried to scramble to my feet but Esteban was quick and kicked out again, this time the tip of his shoe catching my chin. My jaw slammed together and more stars began to spin outward from my vision. Somehow I didn’t collapse to the ground, though blood immediately filled my mouth. I had a few seconds to make a decision as the men seemed to close in on me, Esteban laughing now, everything sounding like I was underwater.
I could plead for my life, for my place here. I could try and reason with Esteban.
Or I could fight.
The thing was, I knew either choice would end more or less the same way. And even though “more or less” sometimes meant the difference between life and death in our world, both options were bleak.
I chose to fight.
I got to my feet, unsteady and lilting to the right a little, but I did it. Holding my jaw, I raised my chin and look at Esteban right in the eyes.
“I am still queen,” I said, though it was more of a mumble, though moving my mouth made me nauseous. I said it as proudly as I could, looking at the depraved and ugly faces of the men around me. “And by law, this is my land, my home, and you are all still employees of my cartel.”