Page 23 of Trapped

“Prima! You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but you’ve been so much help to me, I wanted to get you something to help with all the stress.” I bite down hard on my lower lip so a laugh doesn’t escape. Ariella removes the wrapping paper, and her eyes widen as she pulls out her new stress reliever. A large, orange dildo drops from her hands when the hotel security guards walk in. Nero’s brows shoot above his black sunglasses.

“Oh. My. God,” she cries in horror. Red flushes her cheeks. As if it couldn’t get any worse, Guapo rushes out of the dance hall and starts to attack the dildo before picking it up and running to the main lobby. Ariella chases after him in her miniskirt and heels. She tries to pull the dildo from his mouth, but it turns into a tug of war.

“You’re such a bitch,” Adrian says, walking up behind me with Mireya on his arm.

“I think you mean thoughtful.” I smile at Mireya.

“The thoughtful-est,” she says, and she loops her arm in mine.

The plan to prove to my family I can be responsible faded around shot six. I blacked out, and even though I don’t remember what I said, everyone else does.

“You basically ousted everyone for their own scandals,” Alma whispers like she’s afraid someone will hear her talking to me and she’ll be kicked out of the cool kid’s club. I groan and take the Advil from her palm.

“You also made a toast, letting everyone know you are spending Christmas in Tamaulipas without them.” Well, that’s just great. I hadn’t planned to tell them like that, but I am planning the trip. I am going to meet with Fellipe Gallardo to finalize all the details.

“Are you really going to Tamaulipas?” Alma asks, her eyes narrowing on me. My sweet friend. I had never told her about this part of my life. I didn’t think I would ever reach this point of wanting to set the truth free. For too long I had been content with lingering on the sidelines, but everything changed when I found out Los Bandoleros had figured out her identity. I need to protect her. I need to tell Lucia I am her real mother.

What are you hiding, Ms. Consuelo???

I can see the question in his eyes. Fellipe Gallardo is sitting across from me, going over the details of my current plan in action. It is a reckless plan, but I don’t care. I gave Lucia up because I was afraid of Ivan. But Ivan is dead now, so what am I waiting for? Why am I so afraid? I am mad at myself for not fighting for her then. I am mad at my family for letting my underdeveloped brain make such a big decision. I am mad at them for holding me to my end of the deal—living like a secondary provider for her. I don’t want to confuse her, but I need her to know. She deserves to know the truth. I deserve to prove myself worthy of her. Not to my family, but to her.

The workdays have been longer than normal since I had ruined everyone’s night at the Christmas party. Ariella is still mad about the dildo, and I’m pretty sure even Guapo is ignoring me. I had packed a large suitcase and left it in my room. I am feeling like Dorothy the day she was ready to escape that ghetto ass farm. If things go well tonight with Fellipe, then I will be boarding a plane to Tamaulipas in the morning.

Mr. Gallardo pushes over a manila envelope, and I open it to view the documents. I take out a pen from my purse. My hand fights against me. I try again and that same pang on my side won’t let up.Just sign the fucking papers, Thalia.I give him a curt smile and drop the pen in defeat. His eyes narrow to my shaky hand.

“How about we enjoy our meal and then we can discuss the signing?” he offers.

My grandfather’s jet is waiting for me. I need to do this. I need to release whatever false attachments I have to this property. I had never even seen the place, but the location itself isn’t what I am attached to. It’s him. The ghost of him and the illusion that life is only survived through suffering. I’m tired of suffering.

“Señor Gallardo, if you’ll excuse me.”

I rush to the bathroom and splash water on my face.Pull it together, Thalia.Pull it the fuck together.I can’t use my trust fund money. That would tip my family off. I need to sell this property, then I can take Lucia and we can go into hiding.

I make my way back to the table and Fellipe stands to pull out my chair for me. The restaurant’s atmosphere is dark and quiet; it’s a private restaurant in the higher end of Houston. Subtle art hangs on the walls, and low classical music sets the tone.

“Mrs. Consuelo, I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberties of ordering you a wine.”

“Thank you.” I need something stronger than wine to take the edge off. His gaze falls to my lips, and he smiles when I bring the glass to my mouth. My phone sounds at a new text message, and I ignore it.

“The documents are an initial offer from my client. It’s not anything you need to feel pressured about right now. Take all the time you need.” I take the manila folder and slide it into my bag. My phone rings, and I look down to see the unknown number. When I send it to voicemail, they call back.

“Did you need to get that?”

“No, it’s just someone pestering me.” I shut the phone off, and Fellipe pours me another glass of wine while we wait for our meal. Something about the unknown caller piques my anxiety. All week, a bad feeling has loomed over me. The call feels like another of many signs I have received this week that something bad is going to happen. I can’t help but think of that tower card that was pulled for me, the flames bursting in the windows as two figures jump out of the high tower.

Fellipe continues to talk about his client, but my eyes are hyper focused on his mouth. The light in the room seems brighter, almost blurry. Fellipe’s voice sounds far away, and my ears begin ringing. Everything around me moves in slow motion. I readjust my eyes, desperate to shake myself out of it. My hallucinations take another form when I make out several blurry figures walking toward us. Through my fading consciousness, I make out the familiar clown-masked man.

People scream and run in all directions when the shots ring out. I reach for my gun, but I’m not quick enough. An unmasked man approaches me, and I hurl my fist toward him. I feel the impact and move to escape, but trip over my chair. My breathing is rapid, and the ringing in my head won’t stop. Another blurry image straddles me and zipties my hands behind my back before pulling me to my feet. I cry out when I see the familiar tattooed hand that holds a knife to Fellipe’s throat. He rips open the front of Fellipe’s shirt to reveal the Bandoleros’ sigil on his left pec. Then I watch as he slowly pushes the tip of the knife through Fellipe Gallardo’s neck. The image slowly fades, and everything around me goes black.

I wake up and readjust my eyes to my surroundings. I pry myself up from the mattress and immediately feel the blood rushing to my head. My hands shoot up to apply pressure to the ache in my forehead. I catch sight of the red indentation on my wrists and the most recent memories flood back. Fellipe is a part of Los Bandoleros. Correction: Fellipe was a part of Los Bandoleros, until I watched Prince Uncharming drive a knife into the side of his neck.

I look down and see I’m still in the dress I had worn to dinner. Where the hell are my shoes, though? My eyes shift to the small circular shaped windows in the room. I slowly crawl to one and look down. The vast expanse of the night sky stares back at me. This is not my grandfather’s private plane. I take in a deep breath, and I can hear voices in the distance. Have I been rescued or kidnapped? I reach down my thigh and find Selena waiting there for me in my holster.

I take small steps toward the door that’s been left ajar. Peeking through the tiny crack, I make out two figures sitting across from one another. I continue to watch their interactions until I make out the figure facing toward me. It’s Jasper. I make the sign of the cross in gratitude. Then I remember we’re airborne. Why the fuck would we be airborne if Los Perrigrinos had rescued me? Why not return me to my family?

I remain silent and try to make sense of the whispers. The man with his back to me rises from the seat and moves to the cabin bar. He’s wearing dress pants and a white dress shirt that is rolled to reveal his tan and tattooed forearms. The dress pants mold to his muscular thighs. I can make out the tattoo on the hand that holds the glass. His long hair black hair hangs down to the middle of his back in a low ponytail, that is sectioned off by several hair ties, like some type of fucking Dothraki warrior. Jasper moves to the restroom and my bare feet inch across the floor.

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