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“I’m coming right now. Don’t leave.”
“Please hurry.”
“Are you–”
She ends the call before I complete the sentence. I race to the bedroom to change into black jeans and grab my blue hoodie. Daniel’s car isn’t outside as I walk out of the front door.
Two guards are by it, and they turn to stare at me. “You shouldn’t be outside, ma’am,” a guard says. He has a red jacket on with black jeans. His black hair is in a faded cut with a handlebar mustache.
“I’m going to the grocery store. Daniel said I could.”
“He said not without my supervision,” the guard replies. He must be the Mendoza guy Daniel spoke about.
“I’m in a hurry. I need to get to the grocery store right now.”
I try to walk past them, but Mendoza uses his long legs and broad shoulders to block my path.
“I’ll gladly drive you there.” He stares at me with his hand settled on his rifle.
“Vieni qui, Cortez (Come here, Cortez)!”
Another guard comes running toward us.
“Have this and give me your pistol,” Mendoza says. He exchanges his gun with the other and slips the pistol into his back pocket.
“This way, Adriana.”
I swallow a gulp as he leads me to his truck. It’s a black Toyota Tacoma. He unlocks the door and we both enter.
“Take me to East Harlem. I need to get to Sam’s grocery store at 100th Street,” I say as I adjust in the seat, strapping the seatbelt on.
Mendoza turns to look at me with his eyes narrowed. “I can get you to a grocery store that's closer.”
I keep my gaze firm, staring back at him. “I’m not going to just any store you think is close. Just get me the fuck to 100th Street and stop at the store I requested to shop at.”
He let a few seconds pass as he contemplates what to do. “It better be a quick shopping trip.”
Mendoza starts the truck and drives out of the gate to the street. It’s a ten-minute drive of silence as I anxiously wait to see Beatrice.
He parks the truck a few steps away from the store. The store’s name is boldly written on a signboard hanging at the top of the building. Two ladies walk out of the store with supply bags in their hands. None is Beatrice.
I pull the handle of the truck to open the door but stop as Mendoza grips my wrist.
“I’m going with you.”
A sharp breath passes from my nostrils, infuriated by his grip. “No, you’re not. I’m not fucking running away.”
“Boss said I should be with you always to keep you safe.”
I pull my wrist free from his grip. “I can’t have you walk around with me in the store. You’ll only make me uneasy. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be back.”
“I–”
“If I’m not back in thirty, you can barge right into the store to get me.”
He checks his watch on his wrist and glances back at me. “Your time has started.”
I open the door and slide out of the truck. The morning’s cool air blows across my face as I make my way to the store.
