Page 42 of Trapped

“My dick or nothing,” I say before I pull out my ringing phone and walk out.

Para todo mal, Mezcal; para todo bien, también.In the bad times, drink, and in the good times, too.I down another shot and do my best to find my composure. I am sexually frustrated, and just looking at Silas makes my body heat with need. Removing the toy did nothing for the aching in my core. I’ve zoned out of Ale and Efren’s conversation and watch Silas stand confidently at the kitchen counter. He’s wearing an all black suit and black Louboutin loafers I pretend not to notice. He is hard not to notice, though.

His phone is pressed to his ear, and he stares at me from across the room. Even as his mouth moves, his eyes are fixated on me. When he laughs and turns his back to me, that green cloud returns. This man is drawing up emotions I had long left behind. Who am I to be jealous over a man? Our morning visitor has pitched a tent and set up camp somewhere in the darkest parts of my brain. Is she the one making him laugh like that? He hangs up and walks back toward us, taking a seat next to me on the sofa.

“What’d my Tia say?” Ale says. My muscles relax a bit at the revelation, but other ones rush to claim their place.

“She said to tell you all Merry Christmas,” he says, lifting his glass to all of us.

“Silas, this is Thalia, the bride to be.”

Silas’s mother, Josefina, had been the reason I got to spend our wedding morning together. I lift my glass, imitating Efren and Ale. I close my eyes and let the liquid burn down my throat. I want to drink until my brain shuts off and my heart goes numb. My last encounter with Josefina was when she questioned me about Ivan’s motives. If I had a hard time with the look of betrayal in her eyes the day of the setup, then I’m not sure how I will face them this time. I hadn’t just been hiding Lucia from Silas, but I had hidden her from her grandmother, too.

By the time midnight rolls around, we have made a dent in the bottle of Mezcal. Silas walks to the tree and grabs a present and hands it to me. I smile and hold it while they all look at me.

“I’ll wait until everyone has their gifts before I open it.” Efren lets out a cheeky laugh.

“They’re all yours,” Ale says. I look at all the presents under the tree and back at them. Gifts cover the bottom of the tree and stack up behind it. All of them are perfectly wrapped in matte black paper and red ribbon.

“I can’t just open all these gifts knowing there’s none for you guys,” I say.

“We all have money to buy whatever we want, so open your gifts,” Ale says before bringing me in for a tight hug. “Besides, this cheap fuck has to make up for seven years without you.”

“Cheap fuck?” Silas says while moving the gifts from the tree to a pile in front of me.

“Just open them, Thali. We already planned to give each other something more personal, anyway,” Efren says.

“Her name’s Thalia. And I’ll give you both you and Ale side-by-side burial plots if you don’t stop touching her,” Silas growls, staring down at Ale, who removes her arm from my shoulder.

“What do you mean, something more personal?” I ask.

“Just something that requires our time and not our money.” Efren shrugs. I look down at all the gifts. How do I tell Silas I want that, too? More of his time. More time, in general, to sort through this. I had promised to help him find his siblings, but I can’t stay here forever. I have to get back to my life—to Lucia.

All three of them smile at me and wait for me to open the gift. I slowly undo the ribbon and tear the paper. I open the box and find a pair of black boots adorned with small studs and crosses. The bottoms are red.

“They’re custom made. So, I can teach you to ride the horses,” Ale says, sending me a wink.

“So, I can teach her to ride the horses,” Silas says, correcting her. His finger taps impatiently against his thigh.

“Thank you,” I say to Ale, offering her a soft smile. I reach for another gift, but Silas jumps up and grabs one of the other boxes.

“Open this one,” he says, handing me a large rectangular box.

Inside the box is a custom rose gold chambered .38 Super. Each side of the gun showcases an in-depth illustration of San Cipriano. The panels are covered in stars, moons, and lilies. Engraved on the barrel is our wedding date in small roman numerals. In large font, it reads, “Para Mi Bruja.”

I gasp at the beauty of it. I hold it up and turn it over, taking in every detail of its intricate design. I had ordered custom guns for myself, but never had I owned a gun this beautiful.

“Thank you,” I say and set the gun down before the pressure behind my eyes breaks free. I don’t feel like opening any other gifts. Especially if they are going to draw out this raw emotion.

“What personal gift did you give each other?” I ask, pulling my attention away from the gun.

“I’m going to teach Efren to ride a motorcycle, and Ale’s going to train my horse to dance,” Silas says.

“Maybe one of you can teach me how to drive!” I sound overly enthusiastic about the proposal thanks to the alcohol.

“WHAT?! You can’t drive!?” Ale screams, and Silas arches a brow at me.

“Nope.” I shrug at the thought. “I’ve always had a driver to take me places, and I’ve lived at the hotel most of my life, so I never needed to take my own car anywhere.” Also, it’s a big problem I would have run into had I actually attempted to run away from my family.

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