The Cartel (10 page)

"That was fun," he whispered to her.

She turned around and stormed off in the direction of the house, angry with herself for being so weak and easily manipulated. But all the same, her pulse beat rapidly. She quickened her pace as she heard Emilio's laughter.

*****

“What are you doing down here in the garden?”

Antonio asked his brother when he caught up to him.

"Actually, I was visiting your wife."

"Ah, and where is she?"

"She said she had to go back up to the house for something. I don't know, maybe to check on the baby."

"I see. I have some things to discuss with you." Antonio put his arm around Emilio's shoulders and together they strolled out of the garden and into the fields where cocoa leaves grew abundantly. Emilio was a couple of inches taller than his brother, and lankier, both handsome men. Emilio had always been considered "the pretty one." As a child he was often mistakenly referred to as a girl. His deeply hooded eyes were a caramel color, framed by long thick eyelashes. He had a slender nose and high cheekbones. His thick hair, which he wore somewhat long, he would slick back into a sleek ponytail many nights before venturing out on the town. He
was
beautiful to look at. This bothered him when he was a child, for he ached to appear more masculine. But as a young man, he discovered that his looks were an attribute.

"What did you want to discuss?" Emilio asked.

Antonio hesitated before beginning. "You know the situation with Javier has been rather tenuous of late. He is distant, withdrawn. He only cares about one thing."

"His daughter.”

"Yes."

"That's understandable, considering the circumstances."

"But I am worried about him. I am also worried about the Torres clan. I just spoke with Javier and they know of our meeting with Levine. Needless to say, Manuel Torres is not pleased. My instincts tell me he is a man who thinks with his
cojones
and who will seek our blood if he isn't cut in on the deal."

"Manuel Torres is unlike you. I agree that he’s led around by his balls."

"You understand."

"If you recall, I've had dealings with Torres before," Emilio remarked, referring to Magdalena Torres, Manuel's daughter. Emilio had deemed her irresistible one night. When he didn't bother to see her again, she retaliated with the force of her father. Emilio was badly beaten by the Torres thugs. When he sought help from Antonio, Antonio told him that he wasn't going to begin a war with the Torres family because his baby brother couldn't control where he put his dick. More than likely, he deserved the beating.

"True,” Antonio chuckled.

Emilio straightened his back and with smug confidence asked, "What is it you're asking me to do?"

"Keep an eye on Javier. Torres will go for the weak link, and right now I believe it to be Javier. I also want you to find out everything you can concerning Torres what he thinks, which families he may be trying to convince to ride with him, and so forth. The last thing I want is bloodshed." He pointed a stern finger at Emilio and looked him squarely in the eyes. Eyes that looked at so many as mere prey. Antonio was finally giving his younger brother the chance to prove himself by becoming a predator. Little did Antonio ever guess that he was still Emilio’s biggest quarry.

Javier rocked Isabella to sleep, which had become his nightly routine. The day had taken its toll, like all the days since Cynthia's death. The precious child stirred as her father stood up and placed her in her crib. A cross above her head, pictures of the Madonna, along with one of Cynthia, made Javier feel that a force other than his own strength continually protected Isabella.

He stretched his arms after he placed the baby down and turned her light out, leaving the door cracked open. Lupe slept in the room next to Isabella and woke whenever the child cried out in the night.

He headed straight for his room, undressed, and went to bed. Exhaustion had gotten the best of him. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was sound asleep. Slightly after three in the morning, a scream from down the hall near Isabella's room echoed throughout the house. Javier jumped out of bed, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He ran down the hall, blinded by the darkness. The screaming was coming from Isabella's room. He stormed through the door to find Lupe standing in front of the baby's crib in hysterics. She looked up at Javier, wide-eyed and obviously shaken.

"
Dios mío
, what has happened, woman?" Javier shouted at her.

"The baby, the baby! Some men came and took her away. They held a gun to my head."

"What? What are you saying?" He couldn't believe what she was telling him. It was too outrageous. No one could've gotten inside his fortress. "I don't understand."

"They left this." She handed him a letter.

Javier’s hands began to shake as he read it: "We don't like having our throats slashed by traitors like you and Antonio Espinoza. We suggest you come to your senses. You and your Jew must bring us in on your deal, if you want to see your precious daughter alive again."

Javier crumpled up the letter and chucked it across the room. A rage like none he’d ever felt before enveloped him. “Manuel Torres is a dead man."

*****

Once Antonio received word of Isabella’s kidnapping, he and Emilio flew to Guadalajara, where they met with Javier, who, within twenty-four hours, was becoming completely unhinged, pacing back and forth like an animal filled with fury and pain.

"We will find her,” Antonio told him.

"I will kill that son of a bitch."

"Let me do it," Emilio interrupted.

Antonio shot him a disapproving glare.

"He will return your daughter, and he will have to pay some kind of penance for this. If he doesn't, we have other ways of handling him." He nodded his head in Emilio’s direction.

His younger brother smiled and cracked his knuckles, knowing full well what was to be done with Manuel Torres.

Antonio realized he was taking a big step by allowing the possible murder of Torres and a couple of his henchmen to take place. But Torres had started this fight by kidnapping innocent Isabella. Nothing enraged Antonio as much, nor was anything more outrageous or disgusting to him than enemies who would involve children in the wars between them. Rules of respect dictated that this was out of line. Kill a boss, kill a partner, but don't touch the wives or children. Manuel Torres had broken that law. For this, he would pay. Isabella was Antonio’s Goddaughter, the daughter of his best friend. Her safe and immediate return was the only acceptable solution. If this did not happen and a war between the families resulted from Torres’ bad judgment, then so be it.

“You did what?” Manuel Torres’ voice rose an octave when he learned about the kidnapping.

"I thought you wanted us to threaten him." His youngest son Pedro tried to reason with the old man.

"A threat, yes, but kidnapping Javier Rodriguez’s baby? How fucking stupid can you be? What do you think this will mean for us?"

"That we'll get what we want," Pedro shot back, searching his father's eyes for any sign of forgiveness. At the time, Pedro and his pal José thought that taking the baby was a great idea. Granted, all the tequila they drank helped convince them of the soundness of the plan. And carrying it out hadn't been easy, either. And now this was the thanks he got. His father was never proud of him, never satisfied with anything he did to win his respect. That's why Pedro had the most menial of jobs, doing all the family’s dirty work. All his brothers had positions of authority. All he ever got were promises that were never fulfilled.

"Are you listening to me?" Manuel shouted at him.

Pedro hung his head in despair.

"How do you suppose I’m going to fix this one? For God's sake, this is the man's
child
. I'd rather you'd killed the son of a bitch himself than take his baby. He and Espinoza will be out for blood now. We may have some pull with the smaller families, but after this…” He flung his arms in the air. “You're a fucking imbecile!"

"I'm sorry, Papa," Pedro responded, trying to choke back tears mixed with bitter rage.

"You'd better be, you stupid asshole. Now get Sergio in here. I need to get in touch with Antonio to see if we can fix this disaster."

Pedro left his father's office, swearing silently to himself. He hated him so much that he hoped Antonio
would
do away with him. His father was nothing more than a small time crook. Everyone knew that Manuel was playing with fire, trying to become involved in Javier and Antonio's game.

The other families lied when they said they would support Manuel. When push came to shove, they'd back down as soon as they saw the whites of Antonio Espinoza's eyes. But Pedro had to hand it to his father. The man was either completely out of his mind or else he had huge
cojones
.

He sent Sergio, his father's right-hand man, into the office, and went to check on the baby. He'd given her to one of the nursemaids who took care of his sister's kids. One thing about the Torres family, they never believed in having homes for themselves. Parents, grandparents, children, spouses—everyone lived under one big roof. His father seemed to like it that way. Pedro didn't know what his mother thought. She was a quiet woman who lived the sacrificial life of the good wife. Pedro always felt sorry for her and longed to comfort her. But not only was she quiet, she was cold as well. She never responded to his affections. Pedro decided that maybe it was time to get out of this place.

"Let me see the baby," he ordered the nanny.

She handed the bright child to him. He stroked her hair and gently pinched her nose. She smiled and giggled. "You are so cute. How would you like to go with Uncle Pedro on a little trip?" The nanny looked at him quizzically. "I'm going to take her for a walk. I'll be back in awhile. Pack me up a bottle."

The nanny did as she was told and prepared the baby to leave the house. Soon, he and Isabella were in his car, heading for his new life. "If they don't want me," he said aloud, "then I’ll find a family who’ll be proud of what I can do for them." He glanced over at Isabella sleeping in the basket next to him, and smiled. "And you, precious one, are my ticket."

*****

Marta spooned rice into Alejandro’s mouth. The baby kicked his round feet, smiling at his mother, who was obviously the light of his life, as he was hers.

Most nights, once the baby was asleep and she'd finished cleaning their small home, she'd find herself lying in bed, exhausted from the day’s work, but still unable to sleep. Her mind inevitably drifted to thoughts of Antonio, of their lovemaking, things he'd said, and his betrayal that last day. Eventually, tears would fall, and physical exhaustion would win out. But even after she would finally drift off, dreams about him would invade her sleep. She hated and loved him at the same time, hated and loved those dreams as well.

On those nights when she couldn’t sleep she would write down pages of poetry about Antonio. At times, she thought about sending these poems to him. But then the vision of him kissing his pregnant wife and their daughter kept her from making that mistake.

Tonight, she felt especially lonely once she put the baby in his crib. Elisa and her husband had taken her boys and gone to visit cousins up north in the Redwoods. She was the only one who understood Marta and was always there to comfort her. Marta heard Alejandro stir in the crib next to her bed. She peered in on him. Angry tears blinded her as she thought of Alejandro never knowing his father.

She balled up the poems she’d written over the months and tossed them into the fireplace. She struck a match, but couldn’t bring herself to set it under her poems. She took them from the fireplace, unfolded them, and tried to smooth them out.

Then she made a decision. If she must suffer in this hell, he, too, should pay a price. She neatly gathered the poems together, placed them in an envelope, and addressed it to Antonio. This was not the time to send them, she was aware of that. But soon she would mail them. Soon he would know about his son and about the suffering he had caused them—all in the name of his own selfish pleasure.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Javier was going mad. He couldn’t believe that Manuel Torres would do such a thing. He paced restlessly when the telephone finally rang and he grabbed it at once.

"Javier Rodriguez?"

"Yes?"

"This is Pedro Torres." Javier fumbled with the phone. "I am Manuel Torres’ son."

"Yes, I know. Where is my daughter?"

"With me. Don't worry. She’s safe. I’m bringing her to you right now."

"What?"

"Yes. What my father did was very cruel. He should never have taken the baby away from you. So I took the baby, and I’m bringing her back to you."

"Where are you?"