The Cartel Read online

  She struggled to sit up, but collapsed back onto the creaking bed, her head whirling around. The stranger burst into more laughter at her intoxicated stupor. She couldn’t bring herself to care.

  All Lydia wanted was more of that peace potion. The drug took her pain and fears away, replacing them with calm and a sense of ease. It was as if the drug knew exactly where the pain in her heart and mind were. It seemed to hit those spots first, and then her entire body fell into sync, like nothing she had ever experienced before.

  Sometimes when she was administered a shot, Lydia would try to decipher whether or not she was in heaven or hell, but even this thought process drained her of too much energy. Instead, she would stare at a steel crucifix above the small cardboard dresser in the corner of the room. A red light from the bar across the street flashed against the cross every few seconds, keeping her both entranced and confused. She wanted to grab the symbol of saved souls and throw it across the room. The red light also irritated her, yet she couldn’t take her eyes off it.

  *****

  Marta left Alejandro in the care of Elisa and flew down to Colombia. She was concerned about returning back home to Alejandro quickly. However, Antonio assured her on the telephone that this would not be a problem.

  This would be Marta’s first visit to Antonio’s home. Their meetings had always taken place at Javier Rodriguez’s vacation estate in Costa Careyes when she was merely a girl. A certain amount of anxiety boiled in her stomach as the car pulled up to Antonio’s home. She hoped she hadn’t made a terrible mistake in accepting his invitation.

  She knew that he was extremely wealthy, but when she saw how exquisite his home was, she was astounded. The lush gardens surrounding the massive home were like none she had ever seen. There were all types of beautiful, bright flowers, requiring the care of several gardeners.

  A young woman who reminded Marta of herself only six years before led her around back, to the patio with a breathtaking view of the ocean far off in the distance. Although she had lived in Los Angeles, Marta’s trips to the ocean had been few and far between. Each time she saw it, the appeal was always overwhelming. When she had lived at Javier’s home, she was able to see it every single day, and now she realized again how fortunate she had been. The ocean off of Los Angeles was equally beautiful, but she seldom went near it, for the memories it evoked were too painful. The green mountains that were almost a teal blue stood to the east. Nothing about where she was at that moment seemed real, but as if a painter was at his canvas painting the scene before him. Marta brought her fingers to her lips, and then looked at her hands to make sure that she was real and not in the middle of some artist’s strange rendering of her life.

  She found Antonio sitting in a lounge chair, his head raised towards the sun, and his eyes protected by sunglasses. She hadn’t noticed when he last visited, but with the reflection of the afternoon sun, she could see that he was beginning to lose some of his hair. She sat down in the chair across from him.

  Antonio didn’t turn to look, but after a few seconds, he said, “Thank you for coming.”

  “There was no other choice.”

  Antonio nodded his head. “Javier is here. He and his little girl.”

  “And Señora Rodriguez?”

  “No,” he replied, taking off his glasses to look at her. “Oh, yes. You couldn’t have known.”

  “Known what?”

  “Cynthia died during childbirth with Isabella.”

  “Oh, God,” Marta cried out, horrified by such unexpected, terrible news. Marta had always been very fond of Señora Rodriguez. She had taught Marta to read, and had always let her borrow records and illustrated books. She had even given Marta a few of her discarded dresses, which were the nicest clothes Marta had ever owned. The news that such a lovely woman had died, compounded with the death of Antonio’s wife, left her momentarily speechless.

  As he turned to look at her, she placed a hand on Antonio’s face. He tried to smile. “I am so sorry for what you must be going through,” she told him.

  He nodded. “It is an ending to a period in my life. Not the kind of ending I would’ve desired, but still, an ending. I have to move on. I have no other choice. This is part of the reason I’ve asked you here.” He sat up, taking both her hands in his.

  “Antonio...” she began.

  “Please don’t say anything until I’ve finished. This is fate, you realize. Granted, there is cruelty in it, but can’t you see that this is the way things are meant to be? God has brought us back together, Marta. There is no doubt about it. He knows of my love for you and how powerful it is. We are destined to be a family. I want you to bring Alejandro here to live, and as soon as it is appropriate, you and I will be married.”

  Marta looked away, not knowing how to respond. Giving an answer would not be as simple as either one of them would’ve liked. “We have a home there,” Marta replied.

  “This would be your home. You could have all this.”

  She looked down and then into his eyes again, “To be honest, Antonio, I don’t know if I want all this. It is beautiful and long dreamed of, but I can’t forget . . .”

  He interrupted, “The past.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you that my love is a true and faithful one. Whatever you need or want from me is yours.”

  “I need time to think.”

  “Of course you do.”

  Neither spoke as they held hands. Marta knew what her answer would be, if Antonio would agree to abide by her conditions. That would be a true test of his love—if he could truly do what she was going to ask of him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Lydia’s memorial service was small and discreet attended only by the immediate family. Rosa didn’t shed a tear. In fact, she hadn’t shed a single one since she’d been told her mother was dead. Rosa stared at her Uncle Emilio and remembered a day in the garden, not so long ago, when she saw him kiss her mother and had hated him for it. She noticed that he didn’t cry now, either. Everyone else cried, but not Uncle Emilio.

  Emilio glanced at her once, across the living room, back at the house and smiled. She turned around and headed outside into the garden, where she prayed that the memory of her mother would become clearer to her.

  Watching the red and orange fish in the small pond, her uncle walked up behind her. He placed an arm on her shoulder. She shivered at his touch. However, she was bound and determined not to let him see that she was afraid of him.

  “Your mother loved you very much, Rosa. She wouldn’t be happy to see you so sad, not talking to anyone. Listen, I know what you think you saw here, not too long ago. You know, your mama and me? But it was nothing but a simple kiss. You don’t need to tell your papa about it, either now or later on. He’s already so sad. If you told him something like that, he’d get mad at you because he wouldn’t believe it. I know you’ll be a good girl and not say anything, because if you do, not only will your papa be mad, but so will I. And I don’t think you want to make your Uncle Emilio mad, because I can be very mean. We don’t want that, now do we?”

  Rosa kept staring at the fish. She hated her uncle so much that she wanted to hit him. The weird thing was that she could remember a time when she thought he was so wonderful. He ruined her image of him the day she saw him kissing her mama. Even though she was still only a child, Rosa’s instincts told her not to trust this man, ever again. She even felt that, in some way, he was the cause of this terrible mess. Rosa couldn’t even imagine her mama dead. She thought of the whole situation as the badness. She wished it would go away—all this badness.

  Emilio patted her on her head and walked back to the house. Yes, she knew that somehow, in some way he was responsible for her mother being gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Marta stared at Antonio’s complex face as he lay in a deep slumber, after hours of passionate lovemaking. She was amazed and pleased that a man who could be so full of intensity—alm
ost to the point of rage—could also be so gentle and kind.

  The past few hours together were much more than either had expected. They certainly surpassed all Marta’s expectations. Years ago, she had come to him as a girl. Now she was a woman, and even though her experience remained limited to him from years before, the mere presence of womanhood added a tinge of sophistication, which lent itself to her new confidence as she explored her sexuality with Antonio, as she never had before.

  Marta leaned over and gently kissed his cheek. He murmured something as he wrapped his arms around her. An involuntary smile spread across her face.

  The prelude to their lovemaking had been a promise sealed with a kiss. Antonio had agreed to her stipulations, in order that she and Alejandro join him in Colombia. By doing so, he had proven his love for Marta. Antonio had promised to become a legitimate businessman.

  Marta had known of Antonio’s illegal trade and brutal business tactics, along with the dirty money it produced, since the day she’d climbed aboard Fernando’s truck on her way to cross the border. Fernando had told Marta that he was transporting heroin for Antonio and Javier. At first, her shock and dismay at the prospect of Antonio being nothing more than a dirty criminal seemed ludicrous. But as the hours passed, and Fernando’s words sunk in, it all made sense to her. Of course Antonio delved into a life of illegal activity. He was nothing but a liar, a cheat, and a thief. Those were her feelings about him for nearly seven years.

  Now, as Marta looked over at her lover, the thoughts of his cruel and evil ways began to dissolve in the aftermath of his promise and their lovemaking.

  “If you want me and your son to come live here with you, then you must turn all of your business dealings into legitimate enterprises,” she had told him.

  “Marta, that would be very difficult,” he’d replied.

  “Perhaps so. You told me to name my price. That’s it.”

  “Please try to understand, I’m a very important man. To do what you’re asking of me won’t be easy.”

  “Fine, then I’ll leave tomorrow morning.” She had stood up, nearly knocking over the chair she’d been sitting in.

  “No, wait a minute. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. I only said it could be complicated.”

  “But not impossible, no?” Marta had placed her hands strategically on the table and leaned over, revealing just enough cleavage beneath the cream silk dress he had ordered for her earlier that day.

  “No, not impossible.”

  “I’m waiting for an answer, Antonio.”

  He sighed, reaching out for her he grabbed her, pulling her into him. “Only for you. I will do this only for you.”

  “Thank you, my love. Thank you. This means everything to me.” She’d thrown her arms around him and he’d picked her up off her feet and carried her into his bedroom.

  And, now lying in Antonio’s bed, loving him more than ever, Marta prayed that he would keep his promise to her and their son.

  *****

  Rosa was nauseous. Mama was gone only a few weeks and Papa already had another woman in the house. He tried to keep her out of sight, and he told Rosa she was an old friend who’d come to pay her respects. But Rosa had witnessed the two of them exchanging private glances. She was smart enough to know they weren’t simply old friends. She burned with rage at her father’s disrespect and betrayal. She wanted to scream at him, and give him a piece of her mind. But she wouldn’t. She still wasn’t speaking to anyone—especially not her father.

  Frustrated, annoyed, and hurt, Rosa decided to walk to her mother’s gravesite outside the rose garden, on top of a rolling hill. Rosa had chosen the place herself. Her mother’s body had never been retrieved, but to be able to go to a place where she felt her mother would have liked to be buried brought her a sense of comfort.

  When her papa had asked her where she wanted her mother placed, she instantly led him by the hand to the grassy knoll where she and her mother had sat on so many occasions, telling stories to each other.

  Now, after scrambling up to the mound, she sat down. A cool, March rain had fallen the night before, causing the air to smell fresh and exhilarating. She sat on the lush grass that only the jungle humidity and rich Colombian soil could produce. Sunlight warmed her shoulders and back as she folded her arms, resting her head on them.

  Her tears came so freely for her beautiful mother. How could this have happened? She would neither understand nor believe in a God who would take away the one special person in her life.

  She didn’t hear her uncle come up quietly behind her until he sat down next to her and placed a hand on her head. She looked up then scooted away from him.

  “Now Rosa, you don’t need to be afraid of me. Uncle Emilio would never hurt you. You know that.”

  She didn’t know that. She couldn’t muster the smallest amount of trust for this man who called himself her uncle. Remembering the scene in the garden between him and her mother made her shudder, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as she got up to walk away. He grabbed her small shoulders, turning her around. “Rosa, I know you’re not deaf. Now, Uncle is speaking to you.”

  Trying to squirm out of his powerful grip, she gave in and looked directly into his deceitful eyes. Her parents had always teased her about the mean looks she could give when she didn’t get her way. She stared him down.

  “Such an intense child you are, little Rosa.” Her uncle reached out and touched one of her long strands of hair. “And so beautiful, exactly like your mother.”

  A sickening feeling swelled in her stomach, as though it had been festering there for some time. She could taste her lunch again and actually wished she could vomit it all over him.

  “Yes, so pretty,” he whispered, stroking her cheek. She struggled against him once more knowing that what he was doing was wrong. He began to finger the buttons on her dress with one hand, while his other one grabbed her arms and held them behind her back. She tried to cry out, tried to struggle, but all of her protective senses seemed to have abandoned her. Shock took over, to the point that she became unable to defend herself. The only thing she could feel was fear—a fear so amazingly forceful, it completely succeeded in immobilizing her.

  Her uncle’s hand soon found the lace trim of her panties. As he put his fingers inside them, Rosa began to pray to the God who had abandoned her. Please, Father, don’t let him do this to me. Make him go away. She closed her eyes and suddenly no longer felt that she was inside her own body. It was as if she had drifted away from her wicked uncle. She no longer felt his fingers or anything else about him. She could neither smell him nor hear his voice as she safely floated above the beautiful place where her mama and she had spent so much time together.

  *****

  “Married?” Isabella practically chocked on the word. Her father had just told her that he was going to marry Miguel’s mother. They were sitting down for dinner—Bella, Papa, and Pedro. Señora Diaz’ absence had made the evening all the more pleasant, as she so often dined with them these days. Bella hadn’t seen her father by himself much since he and that woman had begun courting, usually leaving early in the evenings, and almost always returning quite late. Bella hated her. She was always nice when her father was around, but as soon as he was out of the room she turned into a mean bruja. Bella was certain that her mother, about whom she’d heard such wonderful stories, wouldn’t like this change in Javier’s taste in women either.

  “I’m so happy for you, Javier,” Pedro interrupted, glancing furtively at Bella.

  “Thank you. And what about you, Bella? You should be very happy. You’ll be getting a new brother very soon.”

  “That lady is not my mother.”

  “Of course not, Bella, but she does like you, and I expect you to treat her with respect. Think of all the fun you and Miguel will have.”

  “Not with her around here. She doesn’t let us do anything fun. And you are dumb to marry her.”

  “Isabella, I forbid you to speak to me in that tone of vo
ice.”

  Bella stood up and shoved her plate aside, knocking over her glass of milk. “You can’t do this to my mommy. That ugly, stupid lady will never be my mother, and I don’t have to listen to her, no matter what you say!” Bella ran from the dinner table to the comfort of her room. “And you are dumb!”

  Javier stood up and yelled, “Bella, you come back here!”

  Pedro placed a hand on the older man’s arm. “Let her go. She is upset and sad for the mother she’s never known. Give her some time. I know her. She is a very sensitive little girl.”