Page 8 of Punished

He keeps on his façade as he smiles at me and extends his hand.

“Nice to meet you.” Like a complete idiot, I take his hand and shake it. The warmth of my hand in his brings back the tingles from earlier. I pull my hand back quickly and look away.

“You know Mireya grew up in the same neighborhood as you?” she says accusatorily, and I feel humiliated for her and me. What the hell is she doing? He wipes the mayo from the side of his lip, and I watch like it’s the first time I’d seen porn. He licks his lip, and the act is so seductive I am convinced this is now a kink of mine.

Note-to self: research sandwich eating kink later.

When he speaks, his voice is low and husky.

“I don’t remember seeing her, but then again, I was in prison for six years.” He stares straight at me. Fire blazes in his eyes, and the tension is so thick you could cutit with a knife. Don Mario breaks the silence when he opens a beer. Enrique has told him several times he can’t drink on the job, but he doesn’t care. We turn to look at him and listen to the weird noises he makes as he chugs the beer down.

“Anyone want a cookie?” he says and pulls out a box of cookies dusted in powdered sugar. He offers one to Adrian first, who takes a bite. He pushes the box towards Thalia and me, and we each take one. Then, in a matter of seconds, Adrian leans forward and smacks the cookie out of my hand. Thalia jumps up, ready to fight him, but he just walks past us and throws away his trash before exiting the break room. But not before he turns around and looks right at me.

“They have orange zest in them.”

“Orange zest? What the fuck is he talking about?” Thalia shouts.

“I’m allergic to oranges,” I whisper. Even Thalia forgot this, despite me telling her about it a thousand times.So, he does remember me.

I’m sitting in the passenger seat of a black van with Osiel and Ricky as we drive through, collecting money from different banks and organizations that operate under the guise of the cartel. I’m still trying to figure out my phone when I see an incoming call from the FDC. I had been waiting for Efren to call me back so I could check in with him.

“Hello?”

“Hey, big homie. I haven’t been able to call. They’re trying to move me to a detention center.” I knew Efren was considered illegal, despite spending his whole life here. He could have applied for his citizenship at eighteen, but we were only seventeen when we were tried as adults. His foster parents couldn’t legally adopt him without admitting to their own crimes.

“I’ll talk to Patricio. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m thinking of just going back. There’s some work Vidal wants me to do and, honestly, I think it’s time I meet my parents.” I go silent, and he knows what I won’t say. I need him here with me. The guys I work with are reliable, but I don’t trust anyone the way I trust Efren. We have been raising ourselves for years, and we would take a bullet for each other if we had to.

“Did you give her the letter?” he asks, and I already know who. I didn’t ask a lot of questions, but Efren wanted me to deliver a letter to Alma Guiterez, his brother’s ex-girlfriend.

“Yeah, your sources were right. She works at the hotel as a maid. I gave it to her this morning.”

“Thanks. I don’t want to interfere with her life, but I owe it to my brother to make sure she’s alright.” I don’t push the subject, and he doesn’t have to explain shit to me. I never explained my whole newfound rich family or the cartel shit I dragged him into with me.

The fifteen minutes run out and I return my focus to work. The three of us are on our way to Conejo’s ranch.

“Look at all these billetes!” Ricky says, and I look back to see we’ve filled the entire back of the van with bags of money. We get to the front gates of Conejo’s ranch. He has guards spread out all over the property. We make it upa large hill to see a large green house. When we pass by it, I see a woman around my age watering flowers. She has long blonde hair and waves as we pass by.

Ricky whistles low from the back seat as Osiel drives on to the back of the property where the warehouse sits.

“How does someone as ugly as Conejo make a fine ass daughter like that?”

“Nah, fool. I’m not into orgies,” Osiel says, and we look at him, confused.

“I’ve known her since I was a toddler. I’m telling you, homegirl has like seven different personalities in one. Could you imagine trying to have sex with all of them?”

I shake my head and Ricky lets out a laugh.

“No mames!” Ricky says in disbelief. Osiel is always joking about something. We drive a few more miles until we reach the warehouse. Several trucks are parked out front, ready to take their loads. We divide the money between the different dealers before splitting our cut of it. It’s a promotion for me not having to directly touch drugs or kill someone for pay. A perk of being a Consuelo, I presume. I’m about to get back in the van when Conejo pulls me aside.

“Did you see my daughter, Genesis, out front?”

“Ya. I mean, we all saw her. She was watering flowers,” I say, assuming he wanted us tocheck on her.

“What did you think?”Shit.I already know where this conversation is going. Conejo is old school. He believes in arranged marriages, and because he trusts me, he wants to give her to me. Flattering. But she’s not my type. I barely noticed her when we passed by. My thoughts are still stuck on a certain brunette with big brown eyes and that intoxicating smell of vanilla. The feel of her ass molding into me when I reached over her the other day.

“I’m not trying to settle down just yet,” I say, and he nods.

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