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“So, that’s where that came from,” I said wistfully.
“He did it with you too?”
I laughed, remembering our getaway. “Yep. He was so sure the umbrella was all he needed.”
“And was it?”
“Well, to answer that, I have to give you a little background. See, I’m not just some random chick he met in a bar.”
“I never thought you were.”
I smiled at that and continued. “I was born in Mexico. My father was part of the cartels, pretty low ranking at the time. I was kept at home. A good girl was supposed to learn to cook and take care of her man…blah, blah, blah—all that stupid bullshit. At the time, there was a lot of tension in the cartel. There were two ways of thinking. You could stay and do things the old way or join the others and adapt. He chose the latter. He never was one to let others pass him by.”
“Wait, you’re from Mexico?” Eva asked. “You don’t have an accent.”
“I left when I was six. And trust me, I did everything I could to lose it. The last thing I wanted was to be associated with my father in any way.”
“How did you get out? I doubt your father just let you leave.”
“He didn’t. My mother stayed behind, but she sent me away with my grandmother. We figured there was a better chance of escaping if my mother stayed behind. We had help, of course. It wasn’t like we just walked away.”
“What was it like?”
I had blocked that part from my memories. If I thought really hard about it, I could remember what it was like before I left. The constant danger and feeling of unease when strange men entered our small house was the only glint of a memory I had. And leaving was hard, I knew that much. It wore on my grandmother in ways I never knew. And she died before I thought to question her about how we got out.
“I honestly don’t remember. We got away, and that’s all I remember. We grew up in Texas, close enough that a friend could still get us updates on how my mother was doing. Apparently, when I disappeared, my mother was able to convince my father that the former cartel leader took me as revenge. For years, he’s torn Mexico apart looking for me.”
“And you were basically right under his nose,” she surmised.
I nodded, standing at the beep from the coffeemaker. Taking down two mugs, I poured us each a cup and walked back over, sliding one across to her. The jolt of caffeine was a godsend so early in the morning.
“So, what made you go back to Mexico?”
“Well, I was a good girl. I went to school. I graduated college. But then the messages about my mother stopped. My grandmother died a few years ago, and she was the only one who ever had contact with anyone back home. If I called, it would send up red flags and my father would have found me immediately. So, I got a job in a bar right across the border, and I kept my ears open, listening for anything that might give me some insight into my father or the cartels. I got a few clues here and there, but never anything concrete. And then my new husband walked into the bar, and for just a moment, I forgot about it all.”
“And then it all went to shit.”
I nodded. “It all went to shit.”
14
HONEY
Somewhere in Mexico.
Approximately 45 hours, 12 minutes, and 32 seconds ago since FNG’s return.
“You saved me,”I cried. “No one has ever done anything like that for me before.”
He slowly lifted the cigar to his mouth and took a long drag. “And you’ll never have to know what it’s like to not have me around.”
I was enraptured with everything about this man. He was sexy and dangerous, not at all the man I wanted in my life. Ever since I was a kid, I knew a man like him would one day get me killed. But he saved me from a man I knew would take what he wanted.
The way this man looked at me was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. But falling for a man I just met was dangerous. I wasn’t here for a man. I was here to find out information about my mother. But as I stared into his eyes, my mind forgot the original mission and focused solely on finding a way to stay beside this man.
“We should get out of here,” I said breathlessly. I knew it would be dangerous to come here, but I had hoped I would get at least a few answers. The likelihood of that happening now was dwindling by the second. Word would spread of what happened in the cantina. My father would find out an American woman was saved by an unknown man and he would start to investigate. Staying here was no longer an option.
“I know just the place.” He started to turn, and that’s when I saw him. The man came in here every day, always watching me. I was uneasy with him, but since he never made a move, I figured he was just like any other man, wondering when he would get his shot at me.
