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They may or may not know who I am, but I’m sure they have a pretty good idea based on the way I’m moving. I send up a silent prayer to anyone who will listen that no one will turn me in. I have no intention of hurting any of these people, but if anyone gets in my way, I can’t help what I’d be willing to do to keep my freedom.
The end of the street comes into view, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see our beaten-up gray Hummer H2 sitting in the shadows.
“Córrele!” Isaiah hisses from behind the wheel. I sprint the last few feet out of the residential street and jump into the backseat.
“Go!” I smack the side of the SUV through the open window as Isaiah burns rubber. We fly down the empty street in the opposite direction of all the commotion. In the distance, we can still hear the cries of the people at thePalacio Nacionalas they mourn the death of their president.
Jesús turns in his seat next to me and looks out the back window. “They’re going to be searching for us for the rest of our lives,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t sound accusatory. In fact, he sounds almost fascinated, like the idea of being hunted for eternity is something he can’t wait to experience.
That they’ll be searched for is true, but not for the same reasons as me. I’m the one the police really want. I murdered the president of Colombia two weeks ago, and now I’ve killed Mexico’s president. If they don’t already know it’s me who’s committed the crimes, then they’ll know soon enough.
I was careful, of course, but with forensics and technology being as advanced as it is, I know it won’t take long for both assassinations to lead police straight to me.
And I don’t want to be around when that happens.
“Amigos,” I tell my men. “I think this is it for me.”
“What the hell are you talking about,patrón?” I cringe at the title as Ibrahim turns in the front passenger seat and looks at me. “Now is the time to celebrate!”
The three men shout in excitement, but I’m not feeling as enthused as them. I can’t pretend that things will be normal from here on out. I’m wanted in two countries now. There will never be a moment where I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to drag me to prison. I need to leave South America altogether and start a new life in the States.
“I’m going to New York.”
That shuts them up.
“New York?” Isaiah asks in disbelief. “What’s in America that you don’t have here, or in Colombia?”
I look out the window and watch as the buildings and trees fly by in a blur of muted color.
“Freedom. Peace of mind.”
The three of them chuckle like I’m an idiot, and I want to wring their necks for it.
“Vic. You can still be hunted in America, andEl tíoCarlos is not in the best condition for you to just be taking off like that,” Isaiah points out.
As if I don’t already fucking know both of those things. Papá’s health has been rapidly deteriorating as of late, and I’m not sure how much longer he’ll be able to lead the cartel. For the past few months, I’m the one that’s been making all the decisions and supervising the shipments of guns and drugs. I’m the one who’s been acting as the leader of this entire operation, while Papá spends most of his days too weak to get out of bed. His deteriorating health makes it impossible for him to get any work done, so I have to do it.
I never wanted this.
Since the day I was born, it was forever ingrained in me to take over when my father died. If I wasn’t born into this life, I honestly don’t know what kind of career I’d have sought. But since this is the life I was given, I have to make the most of it.
“Remember Ezra James? The leader of the Eastlake Syndicate?”
They all nod.
“I’ve been speaking with him for the past few months. He’s offered me asylum in exchange for my help keeping track of his accounts.”
No one says anything for so long, I think they’ve decided to ignore me. But then Isaiah says, “so you’re leaving your cartel to be someone’s accountant?”
Jesús and Ibrahim snort as they try not to laugh. I know they agree with my cousin, but he’s the only person who would dare talk to me this way.
“Fuck you, Isaiah. You know I like numbers, so I don’t mind sitting at a desk all day. I did what needed to be done, and now I need to leave before I’m caught.”
“You won’t be caught,primo,” he says matter-of-factly. “We’ve been cutting up since we were how old? If we were going to get caught, it would have happened by now. What you did tonight, and two weeks ago proves that you’re the most powerful leader out there. The entire world will fear you.”
I know what he says is true, but I can’t lead this cartel. If that happens, that means Papá really won’t live forever, and I don’t know how to handle that. I’ve never told Isaiah that that’s why I refuse to be the leader.
I lean back in the seat and run a hand over my face. This shit is exhausting.
