Cartel Queen (Almanza Crime Family Duet Book 2) Page 5

  “No, I’m here for you as my sister. If I wasn’t here, he would keep you tied to the bed. You can think what you want about my brother, my mother, and myself, but, Mari, we all have loved you as our family. We are all here in the same pain as you. We all want closure.”

  With that, she turned and left the room before I could sort out a reply. How could they claim to love me and support Javi keeping me like this?

  I let her words roll around in my head. For now, I needed to stay. Javier Almanza was my best chance at finding my brother. In fact, right now he was my only chance.

  In the end, Luciana, Estella, and Javi didn’t matter. I needed to find Maricio and end him the way he ended my daughter. That was my only care, my only drive.

  And everyone should know there was no greater hatred than that of a mother who has lost.

  Chapter Five

  Javier

  Sleep wasn’t to be found again. My body ached needing rest, but my mind, I couldn’t turn it off. Every time I closed my eyes I saw her pain. Yesnia’s at first. The agony of every breath she took until her last one in my arms replayed over and over again in my mind. Then, as the hours passed, it became Mari’s pain. Her loss. Her sadness. Her despair. The two became one, blending with my own emotions.

  When the daylight peeked through the window, Mari began to stir beside me. She was uncomfortable being so close to me. She was sore from being tied to the bed. Even though Luciana had removed the cuffs earlier, I put them back on when I came in. Even in sleep, I didn’t want her to accidentally reach over for comfort.

  There would be no comfort for either of us.

  Pain—physical pain. She needed it to remind her she wasn’t in charge. No matter how much I could sympathize with her loss, I wouldn’t let her get away with what she had taken from me. I couldn’t. It just wasn’t in me; I wasn’t that kind of man.

  As her eyes met mine, I wanted to make her see. I simply wanted to know my daughter. Why couldn’t she understand? Why couldn’t she see my pain?

  “You hold the key,” I whispered.

  She laughed in my face. It irritated me, but the way she laughed felt laced with an unresolved fear. While I had been rude, demanding, and difficult, there was no reason for Mari to fear me. I had never hit her. Sure, I had her kidnapped, but no physical harm had come to her in my care, nor would it. I wanted Mari to hurt, but in the same way I did.

  “Maricio used to tell me Yesnia was the key to everything.” Her single sentence made her reaction make sense.

  Her brother was right to say my daughter was the key to everything. Had I known of her existence, everything would have been different. To some it would have given me a vulnerability, making me weak. To others, it would have been a distraction. All of which would have been true. So, when Maricio referred to my only daughter as the key, well, she was.

  She continued, “He was right, and so wrong at the same time.”

  “Is that so?”

  She nodded.

  “Mari, I wish to know my daughter. I need you to tell me about her.”

  She glared at me. “Your pain is not my pain, Javier Almanza. You do not get to push me around. You were not in Yesnia’s life. You’re right, you don’t know her. Or I guess I should say, didn’t know her. That privilege was reserved for a man who provided for her and protected her. That man was not you.”

  The words were like knives slicing me deeper and deeper with each breath she took. I knew she wanted me to hurt. That was to be expected. Still, she was taking some low blows for the woman who kept my daughter from me.

  “I wasn’t given the fuckin’ chance, and you know that. I want to know my daughter, so tell me. I want twenty years of memories, Mari. You give me those and you are free.”

  She blinked wildly at me. “I share her life with you and I get to be free? As in, you don’t go after me?”

  I nodded. While I wanted Mari to hurt, I didn’t want her to die. She was the giver of life to my child. I couldn’t kill her. She was hurting because of Maricio and if I was honest with myself, because of me. Our lifestyle wasn’t one she had asked for but one she was dragged into. She wasn’t a cartel bitch in that the cartel’s kept her up and slid things through her home, or car, or used her bank account to filter funds. No, she wasn’t treated like the typical kept woman in our world. She was, however, stuck in a world she never asked to be in. She was under the rule of the cartel, now my cartel, and while it wasn’t fair, it was true.

  If she wanted her freedom once I ended Maricio, then I would pave the way for her to have that. It would be the least I could do. Well, if she gave me what I asked. I didn’t feel it was too much to want to know my daughter. I wanted to feel connected to her. Mari held the key to that while I held her future freedom. I felt it was an even trade.

  She remained silent for a beat then she laughed. “I won’t ever be free, Javier Almanza.” She held up her cuffed hands. “Shackle me forever. Or uncuff me, it doesn’t matter. I’ll always be held down, restrained. You, my brother, your entire world, it has consumed me.” Her laugh became crazed. “I always told myself I was no cartel bitch, but I have been my entire life. Even when I couldn’t see it. From the first run Maricio and you took on your bicycles, I was owned by this lifestyle. Now you want to give me my freedom for my daughter’s memories. That’s one cruel joke. I don’t give a shit if I spend the rest of my life chained to your bed. Until I have my daughter back, I will never be free. I will never have life. I will never have love. And the last time I checked, there was no magic potion or spells to bring back the dead. So, I’ll keep my daughter and her spirit safe with me.”

  I studied her. The more I pushed, the more she fought me. The more she fought, the more broken inside I felt. Things weren’t so easily fixed. I couldn’t give her Yesnia back even if I wanted to.

  “What is it you want for Maricio?” I asked, deciding to take a different tactic.

  “A single opportunity,” she stated matter-of-factly.

  I cocked my head to the side trying to figure her out.

  “I want the single opportunity to be the one who ends him. You want memories, fine. From the moment Yesnia was born, Maricio called her the key. She was the key to bringing you down. When she was a month old I told him if he ever hurt her, I would end him myself. I meant those words. I felt those words. Think what you want to think about the whys and hows of me staying with Maricio. I don’t have to explain myself to you. But, when it comes time to end Maricio Dominguez, I want to be the one who does it. I gave my daughter that vow before she could speak or walk. I want to honor her.”

  She was serious.

  Every word that came out of her mouth was laced in revenge. I felt it. I tasted it. In that moment, something inside me changed. Softened even.

  I would give it to her. Or something close to it. I couldn’t be sure where this would end up for either of us.

  “I make no promises.” I told her the truth. What she was asking of me was too much. I wanted to be the one to end him. Could I give her the satisfaction? I wasn’t sure. “I can give you my word that you will have atleast a moment with him to clear the air.”

  She watched me carefully, her distrust in me evident.

  “And what do you want in return?”

  “Just to know about my daughter. What she liked, what she didn’t. I want to know anything I can. What was her favorite color? Her favorite food?”

  She blew out a deep breath. “She loved all colors, really. The brighter, the better.” She gave a soft smile. “Her favorite food, well, that’s hard. Yesnia wasn’t a picky eater. But she had a sweet tooth. Her favorite snack, even in college, was graham crackers with frosting. She would buy a can of frosting and dip her graham crackers in them. It was her go to comfort food.”

  “How was she as a baby?” I asked, wondering about her beginning in life.

  “Miserable.” She let out a short laugh. “She cried so much. At the time I was cut off from the world, so I didn’t understand. Now, thoug
h, I imagine she was what they call colicky. It was like she couldn’t get enough to eat, then what she did get, she threw up. It made for long nights and even longer days.”

  A pain hit me in the chest that I wasn’t there to give her support. “That had to be hard.”

  “It was hell. The first few months, I was in a deep depression because I wondered what was wrong with me that I didn’t love motherhood. Everything felt wrong. But the moment she would smile and coo all the bad would wash away. When she started walking, I lived for the moments she would turn and run to me. With her arms wide, she wanted to be scooped up and swung around. I gave in as often as she wanted. It was like our thing. Even as she grew up, when she got too big to carry, she would run to me and want to hug me in circles. She was always a cuddler.”

  I felt a small smile forming as I pictured a dark-haired little girl running to Mari’s arms. “Did she like school?”

  Mari smiled big. “Yes and no. She loved it once she got there. So many times she would look at me when I walked her into school and ask, ‘Mom, what will you do while I’m away today?’ I would tell her, count the minutes until I’m with you again.”

  Guilt slammed through me like a wrecking ball. “Sounds like she loves you very much.”

  “She does, she did,” Mari whispered as the emotions became too much. “She enjoyed school, except she always worried about me. Everything she ever did, she always checked up on me and checked in.”

  “You were close,” I stated the obvious.

  “She was all I had. Maricio didn’t allow me to have friends. Through the years, I told myself we would leave. I would take her and run. Except she had adjusted so well. In the beginning, she was such a trying baby, and I didn’t have the energy to go anywhere. It was purely survival mode for me. Then she started school and Maricio had these papers for us all. Since she was born in America, she was a citizen. I wasn’t and I couldn’t risk deportation if Maricio chased us. She loved learning and I couldn’t keep her from that.”

  “Did he hurt her?” I asked, unsure if I could handle the answer.

  “No. He never hit her. I think Maricio knew how far to push me. While he would cross the line with me, he never hit her. Until the day,” she stopped talking as her voice cracked with emotion. “Until he…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. “That was the first time he truly brought pain to Yesnia. She loved her uncle. She trusted him.”

  I found relief in her words. While Maricio had been the one to end Yesnia, I was thankful that she was never abused by him. I had to hold onto whatever good I could find in this situation because the more I let myself dwell on the loss, the more I feared I would make a mistake.

  Maricio would pay and I had to make sure I did it with my head in the game.

  Mari and I were both struggling with our loss. I couldn’t say she was worse than me. I thought about it and I think it came down to we were mourning different things. I was grieving the past and she was missing the future.

  “I am sorry I wasn’t there for you and for her, Mari,” I told her honestly.

  “This was our path to take, I suppose,” she replied, seemingly lost in her memories.

  For the next hour, I absorbed every memory, every moment she shared with me. If I closed my eye, I could almost picture it all. The guilt ate at me, but there wasn’t a single thing I could do to change our situation now.

  Maricio, though, he would pay.

  He would pay for my pain.

  He would pay for Mari’s pain.

  More than anything, he would pay for Yesnia’s pain.

  I would make sure of it.

  Chapter Six

  Mari Belle

  How was it that one person could still smell the same after all this time?

  He had just left the room and his scent lingered. It had been two days since I shared my memories of Yesnia with him. Yesterday, he left me alone except to bring me food. Carla, the housekeeper, checked in on me, but barely spoke other than to ask if I needed anything. I wanted to tell her I needed my daughter. I needed my freedom. Instead, I said nothing. She worked for Javi, so she wasn’t an ally I could trust.

  The biggest problem was the more I was forced to be around Javi, the harder it was to keep the memories at bay. The longer things dragged on with me confined here, the more my emotions got tangled into everything.

  I could feel his pain.

  I could also understand his confliction. Having me so close messed with him as much as it did me.

  The more time I had alone, the more my mind wandered. Carla came in with fresh towels and a vase of flowers.

  It was a sympathy bouquet. All white roses and white hydrangea blooms with small doves on top adorning the arrangement.

  Flowers were something I hadn’t received since Javier and I were together.

  It took me back to when I wanted to start dating. I was sixteen or seventeen when Maricio started joking one day before dinner about a boy coming to take me out. I, of course, wanted Javi to be my date, but he wouldn’t cross that line before I was eighteen. I could picture it like it was yesterday.

  “Mari, who was the chavalo following you home?”

  I gasped at Maricio for calling Diego a punk kid. “He’s a friend from school named Diego,” I answered just as Javi stepped into the living room.

  “Who’s Diego?” he asked, looking at me and then to Maricio.

  Maricio smirked. “The cabrón that wants to get in Mari’s pants.”

  Javi’s face turned sinister. “Mari, is this a boy you wish to give your time to?”

  I shook my head.

  “You want to go out, I’ll take you out. Get ready,” Javi ordered and Maricio laughed.

  “Someone’s showing his cards,” Maricio taunted Javi.

  “No, I’m gonna show her how a man treats a woman so these cabrós don’t twist her head.”

  And that was it, he was simply teaching me. I left the living room to get dressed deflated. Javi was taking me out, but only to show me how a man should behave. It was frustrating to have all of these feelings for him and always be around him, yet never have him as my own.

  I took my time getting ready since I wasn’t nearly as excited to go out anymore. My hair was down in soft waves all the way to my butt. My makeup was my usual. Just eyeliner, some eye shadow that was a little darker than my natural skin color, and red lipstick. I didn’t bother with caking on foundation or blushes like most girls I knew. It just wasn’t me.

  Javi came to the bedroom door after I had been tucked away for an hour. He wore fresh jeans and a button-up shirt. With his favorite aviator sunglasses in place covering his eyes, he whistled at me in appreciation.

  “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

  I felt my cheeks heat. He extended his arms to me; in his hands were the biggest bunch of roses I had ever seen.

  “For you,” he offered the flowers.

  I took them, lifting the petals to my nose. I inhaled their sweet scent. “Thank you.”

  “Never let a man take you out without first bringing you a gift.”

  And there it was. I swallowed back my disappointment that the night would indeed be filled with lesson after lesson.

  “Is that so?” I tried to seem interested.

  “You are a gift to the world, Mari. Any man worth anything will see that. Therefore, he should shower you with gifts to show his appreciation in the present he gives. You are a gift to his world. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  In my mind, I let myself feel for a moment that Javi meant those words for me as my man. I would hold onto the special way he made me feel by saying I was a gift to the world.

  We left his mother’s house with my hand in his. At the car, he opened my door, waited for me to get seated and buckled before closing it and rounding the car to get in his seat.

  “A man always drives, Mari, for a man always leads.”

  “That’s a bit chauvinistic,” I challenged.

  “Any man who is worthy to have you, Mari,
will want to lead for he would want to be the one to walk into any situation first, securing a path and safety for you. It’s not about control. It’s about protection.” He reached over to me and traced his thumb across my jaw, keeping my face turned to his. “You are a gift, Mari.”

  For a moment he paused and we sat in his car with our gazes locked together sharing something unspoken and unbreakable.

  “Javi,” I whispered his name.

  “When the time comes, if I’m the man you want, you need to know there’ll be no going back, Mari.”

  He released my face, put the car in gear, and pulled away without another word. We had a night of food and dancing that ended with him walking me inside, tucking me away, and leaving to go out with Maricio.

  I learned a lot that night. I knew I was in love with Javier before then, but I learned that night he was everything I wanted in a man and so much more. He was honest to a fault, intense, passionate, and protective. While it hurt to not have him right then, looking back, I think it made having him later mean that much more.

  Honestly, he set an example for how a woman should be treated that no other man would ever live up to, even if I had the freedom to date. When I was eighteen and we took things further, he never once took me on a date without bringing me flowers. He also never let me open a single door. He always led us and always put my safety first. He always put me first.

  He knew I was all in, and I knew he was too.

  So how did it get so mixed up? Where did it all go so wrong? How did Maricio get in both our heads?

  The bedroom door opened and Javi entered with a tray of food. His eye met mine and the cold look was back.

  For a moment, I tensed. Javier Almanza aged like he was a superhero. In all this time all he had done was broadened in the shoulders and bulked up. He wore a pair of loose sweats and a white tank-top that clung to his skin. Across his chest I could see ink, but I couldn’t make out the actual design. His forearm had the dagger tattoo Paco once showed Maricio stating everyone in the Almanza Cartel had the signature ink. He moved to the dresser where he set the tray down and I took in the tribal design tattooed across his shoulder blades. Under the shirt I could make out his last name inked under the tribal. It was all so fitting and only enhanced his muscular physique.