“Thank you.”
I dash upstairs, not wanting to spend any more time in the bedroom than I have to. I look at the bed and would love nothing more than to burn the motherfucker. I move to the closet instead and pull out the clothes I like most. I lay them on the bed. I line up shoes on the floor, then move to the dresser to get stuff out of there.
Wouldn’t it be funny if I took everything but my panties? Let whoever comes in here to clear the place out wonder why that is.
I gather everything from the drawers and put the stack on the bed. I sweep my gaze around the room to see if there’s anything I want to take. I sure as shit don’t want to take the framed photos of Drew and me. I walk around the other side of the bed before climbing on. I take down the crucifix my maternal grandparents gave me for my confirmation. Drew spotted it in my old apartment and insisted we hang it above the bed for good luck—that no one would kill us in our sleep. It felt like sacrilege to have Jesus looking down on us while we fucked.
I head into the bathroom, but there’s nothing I want. I took all the necessary toiletries with me. I just wanted to double-check. I make my way downstairs, calling out before I can hear the men.
“Javi?”
“Yeah.”
“I need to get a couple suitcases from the basement. I didn’t think of that earlier.”
“I’ll get ’em.”
I recognize Pablo’s voice. It makes me wonder what they’re doing down there if I can’t walk around the corner from them to go to the basement myself. They could just pause their conversation. If they don’t want me to see, then it’s definitely something I shouldn’t want to know about.
Pablo’s quick, and it only takes me five minutes to put my belongings in the two cases he brings me. Joaquin spies me struggling to get down the stairs with them, so he rushes up to help. I was so focused on handling the luggage that I forgot my pledge not to witness what they had out. There are scales and testing kits on the table, and there are three ficus trees nearby. I didn’t see those get loaded into either SUV, but I’m certain it’s how they’ll transport the drugs.
I pretend like none of this fazes me, but it’s a stark reminder I’m jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire by binding myself to the Diaz family, the most notorious and wealthiest narco-traffickers in the world. I remind myself no one in their family’s gone down for shit, and Enrique even goes to the grocery store like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He comes across as a typical—albeit hot—middle-aged man.
“I’m going to take you back to the hotel, Maddy. The others have an errand to run.”
I can’t help it when my gaze darts to everything laid out across the table. It’s organized and neat. Clearly, they’ve done this before.
“I’ll—”
Javi’s interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He pulls it out and checks the screen.
“Misha.”
The bratva must be done with whatever their contribution was to the revenge. That or something went wrong.
“Madeline está con nosotros.” Madeline is with us.
Javi and I discussed my Spanish skills, and he knows I can understand some stuff. But most goes over my head. I can sort of follow a conversation, but I miss more than I get. Since I know Misha and his family speak Spanish along with Russian, it doesn’t surprise me when Javi continues in Spanish after putting the call on speaker.
“Esos pedazos de mierda bebedores de Chianti hicieron esto.” Those Chianti-drinking pieces of shit did this.
Fuck.
I understood pieces of shit, and I know what Chianti is. He didn’t want to name the Mancinellis, but I’m certain he’s talking about them since he named an Italian wine.
“Descubrimos lo mismo.” We figured out the same thing.
Something about the same thing. It was a short sentence, but I don’t know the first word.
“Quiero saber cuál.” I want to know which one.
Yo quiero Taco Bell. Quiero una cerveza.I want Taco Bell, and I want a beer are the only things I know how to say usingquiero. One of those came from a nineties commercial with a talking chihuahua.
“¿Alguna idea de quién?” Any idea who?
I understood what Misha just said. They must want to know which Mancinelli got involved. I want to know that, and I want to know what they did and why. If I can’t follow all of this conversation, I don’t know whether Javi will tell me.
“Supongo que es el segundo hijo.” My guess is the second son.
