Page 11 of The Vows We Keep
But then, why not just let Dad drive out up front so he would get killed with everyone else? Unless they weren’t told what they were riding out for. Or they didn’t know they were driving into an ambush. Maybe they thought they could take out a club president and return in one piece. So they had to get rid of Papá on the way.
Urgh ... this is all so confusing. There are so many possible scenarios.
In hindsight, it only felt like a solid crew because of the strength of Papá, Felipe, and Mateo. The rest of the crew was a combination of sidelined older members who were capable of the duration of the ride and a handful of brand-new prospects. Perhaps they were just collateral.
How do I find the stories of dead men?
How do I figure out what the hell happened?
One thing I know for sure, the man in front of me can help me figure it out, once his head is clear. I want him to help me piece together what happened. Starting with their meeting and backing up from there.
Because if Los Reyes had my father killed, there are no lengths I won’t go to to make this right.
Snow falls outside, illuminated by the moon. I’ve only experienced snow a handful of times. Through the glass it’s pretty, but the cold is the enemy to my sun-warmed bones. The thought of it makes me shiver.
Time passes. I sip my coffee. I listen to King snore. I want all the information he has. And given what I already know about him, it will be easier to get that from him by playing nice.
More snow falls as I figure out what that means.
I finish my coffee.
The urge to go back to sleep is strong. But an hour later, King starts to stir.
He sucks in a deep breath, as if forgetting he’s here, then flips his head up, blinking.
“Fuck me. I thought this was a dream.” He winces. “My head’s hammering.”
I grab two painkillers from my bag and get a glass of water from the kitchen. “Open wide,” I say.
“How do I know that’s not step two of the lethal drug combo and you’re just luring me in to kill me?”
I raise an eyebrow. “One, if we wanted you dead, we would have done that last night. Two, we have a million other weapons at our disposal—we didn’t have to wait until you woke up. Just open your mouth and let me help you fix that headache because I need your help.”
King eyes me suspiciously, then does as I say. I pop the pills in his mouth, then press the glass to his lips. He surprises me by drinking most of the water. “You’ll need to let me piss soon, unless that’s what the tarp is here for.”
“Not while Neva is sleeping. Can you be a big boy and hold it?”
He grins, and his eyes light up. “You could hold it for me, and I could pee into a bowl. Perhaps give it a stroke or twenty.”
“Te voy a lavar la boca con jabón,” I mutter. My mamá always threatened to wash my mouth out with soap when I would curse. She’d blame my father for not watching his expletives around me. I thought she was going to have a heart attack when I berated my cousin at mass one day. Apparently calling someone a fucking idiot in a holy building at age seven is a big no-no.
King drops his head.
“When I said I needed your help, I meant it.” I put effort into softening my tone.
“This how you usually ask for favors?” His eyes meet mine again. There’s something utterly captivating and ... dark, about them. Even though they’re the kind of blue I associate with arctic ice.
I run my middle finger over my lip as I think of where to start. “There’s no reason for us to trust each other. But I promise you, I’m not here for revenge. I don’t care what you did or didn’t do. My father had strong morals and an even stronger dislike of authority. He knew the life he was in. But he was also a good father. Fiercely protective. He truly believed everything he did was for us. Moving us to California. Doing what was required to build some wealth. Giving me an American education.”
“You and Neva are sisters?”
I shake my head. “No, but I don’t have any siblings, so she might as well be.”
“If your dad wanted this other life for you, why are you mixed up with a girl who can mix up barbiturates?”
I think about the times Papá confused me with his double standard. Encouraging me to study as a girl while asking me to whore myself out for the good of the club as an adult. That I should be tough and strong and independent—yet do as he says, respect Perrito, and give everything to a club that offers me nothing in return. “That’s a story for a different day. I just want to know what happened to my papá and keep a promise to him to return his body back to Guadalajara. I’m not here with the club. I’m here with my friend, and yes, we’re not utterly innocent ourselves. But what you said last night, it doesn’t make sense.”
King frowns. “What exactly did I say last night? When you grabbed me, I’d already done a bottle of Jack. Then, with all that funky shit you popped in my veins, I kinda lost the plot with what was going on.”
