Page 47 of Blood Spilled
“Or maybe, I’m just simply tired. I can promise you there is no love between me and Mateo.”
“I didn’t say anything about love. You always did hate to lose, hijo.” She pauses for a moment and her smile turns wicked, twisting my insides. “Unless ... it’s not Mateo at all. Unless you really did fall in love, but with someone else.”
I swallow hard, shaking my head. I want to tell her she’s wrong, but nothing comes out of my mouth.
“So, the captured fell in love with his captor. I did not see that one coming at all.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re absurd. I hate that man with every fiber of my being and when I see him again, I will kill him.” My words don’t come out nearly as strong and convincing as intended.
“Why not let me take care of that for you then?”
My eyes widen. “You and I both know it’s impossible. You will never win against Angel Castaneda.”
“I can if I have what he wants. Tell me, mijo, what do you think that might be? Perhaps you and he both share the same weakness.”
My body goes stiff and my fists clench at my sides. “Perhaps you're wrong. I no longer know how to love anyone or anything … you and father made damn sure of that. I have no weakness, because that would mean I have something to lose. A man can’t lose what he doesn’t have. So, as I said before, do your fucking worst.”
She folds her arms and her lips form into a thin line. “I should have let him kill you that day. He wanted to after he caught you with that boy, but I talked him out of it.”
“Whether you want to believe it or not, Mama, I did die that day. I died right alongside Andy in that shed, just like you died with Victor.”
Her eyes water and her expression goes
cold. “Where did you hear that name?”
“Remember, Mama, I haven’t been the only one held captive this whole time. So have you, and you still are, but don’t realize it.” I smile at her, placing my hand on her shoulder. “When the sun rises, our love will finally be free.”
I exit the room, leaving her standing there frozen in place and speechless.
Thirty
Angel
When my brother and I show up to the drop off spot where Santiago's new buyer is supposed to be waiting, we sit around for hours until we realize the guy isn't coming. He must have found out somehow. Maybe someone had got the news back to him about the celebration. They were stupid to have that party. They had practically raised a flag, putting a target on their new house. Maybe Leila has a pissed off drug dealer and he's now after her ass for interfering with his package.
Good, this may work in our favor. I'll be damned if I let that guy come anywhere near what's mine though. I won't stand for it. Just the thought of someone else putting their hands on Santiago has my stomach twisting in knots. He is mine to touch and to do with as I please. The only person who will inflict anykind of pleasure or pain on him will be me and me alone. My phone vibrates on my desk.
Gabriel sends me a message including a picture of a guy tied to a chair in a place that resembles a warehouse. They had found a guy who looks like Marcus. The similarities are uncanny, he is the perfect double—same blond hair, dark green eyes, slender face, and strong jawline. If you stare too closely and long, you may notice the difference.
Thanks to the videos we knew what my father looked like in more recent years. He was the same as I remembered him, only with a bit of graying and facial hair. Who's to say he hasn't dyed his hair and shaved since that video was taken, but there is no way for Bobby to know that. Just like there's no way for us to know either. My father had appeared to have been held captive for some time. His clothes were filthy, his cheeks were sunken in, and looked like he hadn't slept in weeks.
Me: He will do. Let’s get those pictures taken and make sure they get to Bobby with a note saying we have what he wants, and where to meet us.
Gabriel: Look at you barking orders at me like a real mob boss. Someone’s been around one for too long. Besides, it’s already been taken care of. All that’s left is for us to wait.
I huff, if only he knew. Santiago was nothing like his old self when he was with me. The mob boss had left every time I came near him and all I got was a man. A man who was broken in the most beautiful way. Those sad, lost eyes took my breath away every time and I always knew just what he needed to make that look fade away. I thrill myself in being the one to replace it with a darkness that was most profound when I set his body on fire. I don’t say anything else to my brother.
He and Mateo will be handling the meeting with Bobby and they won't show up empty handed. All they need is for him to get back to them and agree to meet. I have a good feeling they willhave no problem there. It may not be right away, but sooner or later Bobby will respond.
I go to the camera app, curious to see if my little mascota is in his room, locked away like some imprisoned princess. When I open it, there he is, standing by the window, staring down. Almost as if he’s waiting for his white knight to show up on horseback. I laugh, knowing I'm far away from being anything of the sort. I continue to watch him, as I shove unshelled pistachios in my mouth, letting them crunch between my teeth. I connect the phone to my computer so I can see my pet on a bigger screen.
Santiago walks toward the dresser in front of the room, eyeing it curiously. He stands there, staring at it for a long time, squinting his eyes. He walks closer and the camera moves when he lifts the angel figurine in his hand. Damn, that smart fucker had found my camera.
To be honest, I’d hoped he would. Nothing gets past a man like Santiago Morales. His image is upside down now. I know he must be reading the message I left him, letting him know who put it there. I imagine him tracing his finger across the word, “Besame.”
The figurine moves up and down before it is placed back on the dresser. He stands back smiling, running his hand down the middle of his body, unbuttoning his coat and letting it slip to the floor. He tugs his tie loose, pulling it over his head before unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off. He steps out of view and comes back with a piece of paper with words written in black ink. “Kill Manivela.”
My face heats and my hands clench, slamming against the desk. Now that he confirmed it’s him, we can continue with our plans to hunt down this asshole and kill him. I don’t care who I piss off in the process. I’ll be ready for them. The man was already dead the minute he made that deal with Santiago’s mom.I don’t take my eyes off him as he tosses the rolled-up paper on the floor, kicking it under his shirt.
