I don’t know what to do right now.
Shoving off the bed, I toss the note aside and stomp to the en suite again on pure reflex. I check the drawers of Natalia’s vanity. I check the large closet. All of her shit is still here. She left with nothing but the clothes on her fucking back, and I have no idea where she went, and she’s planning to go after the second in command of the entire fucking cartelall by herself.
I’m marching back out of the closet and through the en suite, when my reflection distracts me.
I have the unmistakable look of a mad man right now. Wild, wide eyes, nostrils flaring, jaw set, muscles tense. It’s the same look I know I had when instinct and righteous indignation took over when I came home to find my sister and parents held at gunpoint. And something about seeing myself looking like this hits me over the head like a two-by-four that Natalia and I really aren’t all that different.
Natalia has never given a shit about money or stuff. That much has always been clear and is even more clear now that she’s gone and didn’t take a damn thing with her. This woman is prepared to sacrifice herself on the altar of retribution for not only the sins committed against her, but also to prevent this horde of shitbags from coming after me.
The rubber has met the road, and nothing matters but justice.
Justice for herself, and justice forme.
Because sheloves me.
“Well, guess what, baby?” I say to my reflection as though it’s Natalia standing in front of me, “I loveyou, and I’m prepared for us to go Bonnie and Clyde on these mother fuckers, and I’m gonna fucking find you.”
I don't give a shit about Papá’s money right now. I don’t give a shit if Xavier and hisvatosare clearing out the bank right this fucking second, because some things are more important thanmoney.
I have a semblance of a plan to deal with this, and the first step is finding her and making her understand that we’re on the same team right now. We’vealwaysbeen on the same team. It’s always been us against the cartel. We just didn’t realize it.
I realize it now, and I have to find her so that I can make her realize it, too.
Back in the closet, I grab the first handful of clothes I can reach and pull them on. Then it’s keys, phone, wallet, and I’m out the fucking door.
Papá and Mamá are taking coffee in the study while I march down the stairs and across the grand foyer like a man on a fucking mission, because Iam.
“Mijito?” Mamá chirps. “You are going out already?”
“Yep,” I say, approaching the front door and not pausing.
“Where is Natalia?”
I twist the knob and pull the door open. “She’s in the car already. We’ve got a lot of stuff to do today to get ready for the move.” I step through and swing it closed behind me. “See ya later.”
Jumping in my car and peeling down the drive toward the gate, I bark at the Bluetooth to call her phone. Like… herrealphone. I probably should’ve figured out how to get the other number for the other one, butoh fucking well.
And of course, the call rolls to voicemail.
“Natalia,” I start to say, completely caught off guard at a sudden ache in my throat that nearly causes my voice to falter. “Baby, you need to talk to me. I’m not mad, and I’m not letting you go like this. We will handle this shittogether, you hear me? I don’t know where you are, but I’m going to find you, and we’ll deal with everything. Okay? I am in this with you no matter what. Are you hearing me?”
I pause for a second, flicking my gaze back and forth to scan both sides of the road as I aimlessly search my surroundings in feeble hope that she might be hitchhiking or some shit, all the while knowing it’s extremely unlikely.
“You remember the first day? When we were at that friggin’ crack house? What did I say to you then?”
I pause again even though this is a one-sided conversation.
“I said I wasn’t going without you. Well, right now, you’re not going without me. I don’t care how we got in this situation, because we’re just in it now. And just like that day, there’s still not a goddamn soul on earth who’s ever going to convince me that marrying you was a bad decision. I love you. I’m gonna find you. And we’re gonna deal with this shit together. I don’t care who you were before, becausenowyou’re my wife, and this marriage is ride or die. If all this shit comes to a head of going down in a blaze of fucking glory, I’m gonna go down standing right next to you. I swear to you,amor. I am with you until the bitter fucking end. So, just call me. Please.”
Ending the call, I grip the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles are white, then I pull my fist back and slam it against the dash.
“Fuck,” I mutter, gripping the gear shift and kicking up my speed. “Where the fuck are you, baby? Fuckingcall me.”
I’m blindly heading into the city when desperation grips me, and I call her again.
“Natalia… come on now,querida. Pick up your phone. We’ll take care of this. Don’t try to do this without me. Let me help you,cariño.I’m hereforyou andwithyou. Just call me.”
She never fucking calls. I spend the entire fucking day aimlessly scouring the grid of the shittiest parts of Queens, then Brooklyn, then cross over into the Bronx just to see if I can find anything. It dawns on me that this is just a wild goose chase and a total waste of time, and I go to plan B.
