Page 26 of Girls Night
“What would have happened if he had taken you into custody?” he asks, the tremor returning to his tone.
“For what? He’s got nothing on me, Papa. So, a couple of his men disappeared? That wasn’t me. I didn’t kill his father either. He’s got a chip on his shoulder, but so what? Everyone here does in one way or another. Bienvenido a Navolato,” I say with a chuckle.
“Mija,” he says patiently as he gets to his feet and pulls his chair closer to mine. “You have to be careful. Especially when you’re on your own. I don’t want you wandering off and then never see you again. That would hurt me more than I can say. Do me a favor and stay close to home for a while, okay? And stay the fuck out of Bachimeto.”
I grin up at him.
He’s beyond the point of trying to stay calm, and I can see the crimson blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
All partially hidden behind the bushy beard he usually keeps neatly trimmed. But not tonight; he shows signs of obvious distress, and I’m sure he was waiting for word of my death instead of me walking back into his home.
“Go to sleep, Viejo,” I instruct him fondly with a smile. “I’m fine. I promise.”
But my old man is as stubborn as he is ruthless and shakes his head vehemently, “Not until you do.”
“Papa,” I begin as patiently as I can, getting to my feet. I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and bury my face in his neck. When he hugs me back, I let out a soft sigh. It’s not a usual thing to get hugs from my father, so when he gives them, he means it. “I’m not hurt anymore. We’ll find who did it and that person will be punished. Until that moment comes, everything has to be as it was.”
He clears his throat in an attempt to mask the sniffling sound he just made as he drops his arms from around me. Taking one of my hands in his, he gives it a gentle kiss, then leads me back into the house.
* * *
Papa refused to leave my room until he tucked me soundly into bed. I half expected him to sit down and read me a bedtime story, but he’s never liked to linger in his daughter’s rooms.
He’s a very traditional man and believes that everyone in his home deserves privacy. It’s a point of pride with him that he doesn’t invade it.
It would seem strange to some that a man with so much blood on his hands can care so deeply for his children. But he’s only El Señor when he needs to be, and up until recently, that was never in his home.
Someone breached the fortress and dealt him a blow to the heart, and that’s not something that will be easily forgiven or forgotten.
As I nestle into the blankets that he’s wrapped so tightly around my body, I glance out of my bedroom window and sigh.
Tomorrow, I’ll put the rest of Mateo into the ground, and the sun will shine a little brighter because I’ll bury the damaged part of me with him.
Chapter Eight
The early morning Mexican sun is hot on my back. It has me sweating more than I thought I would be, but thankfully, I’m almost done.
I made sure to wake Tati up extra early so that I could get this done without Papa seeing, and I’ve made her my official water girl until I’m done.
It’s almost seventy degrees already, and I swear God is trying to wear me down. He wants me to confess mine and Tati’s sins to our father, but I won’t betray her. I promised her that he’d never find out what she does when there are no eyes on her, and my sin is etched into my soul.
I’m a killer, plain and simple.
She just steals the scraps from my table whenever I leave any behind and uses them for her own pleasures.
You’ll have to try a little harder to break me.
I stand up and bend my back a little as I hold out my hand for a bottle of water.
After I drink down what’s left, I toss it at her and throw Mateo’s head into the ground.
“Should we pray for him?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“Why?” Tati inquires in confusion.
“So he doesn’t take the taste of your cunt to Hell with him,” I snap at her, rolling my eyes as I begin to pack dirt into the hole.
“It’s not my fault. You left him where I could find him,” she grumbles as she plops her ass down into the dirt.
