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His expression hardens. “When?”
“Earlier. Today. Right now.” I touch his arm. He doesn’t move, but his body is tense, and neither of us speaks for a long moment. I know what I’m asking him, and he knows it too. If we go to that house, and he uses his authority to help me bring Cruz back home, there will be repercussions. I don’t know exactly what shape they’ll take, but Ruben’s important to Bass’s plans.
Only Nardo promised me. He fucking promised me, and he went back on it, and that can’t stand.
“Come on, let’s get moving.”
Bass drives fast this time.
He tells me about the house near the airport, how Ruben uses it as a relay station for smuggling operations. Cash and drugs come through like water flowing down a river. Seedy, bad people show up on the doorstep at all hours. Bass describes it as a very, very dangerous place.
“When we show up, you won’t come inside.” He says this like there’s no other choice.
“No way. If Cruz is in there—”
“Marisol, listen to me.” His tone is sharp, almost harsh, and it makes me click my jaw shut in surprise. “This isn’t a game. You won’t be safe inside that house.”
“They’re my family.”
“No, they’re sadistic assholes. You will stay in the truck where you’re safe, do you understand?”
I give him a long look, and I know there’s no arguing. He won’t do this if I push back.
But I also know there’s no way in hell I’m staying behind.
I cross my arms and stare out the window, and he takes that as agreement, even though I say nothing.
Worry rattles me as Bass puts on the speed. Cruz isn’t like Javi. He’s never been interested in the Escalante. We’re more alike than anyone in this entire family. My little brother wants to be normal.
Which is strange for a member of a drug cartel, but it’s the truth. He isn’t seduced by the cars, the money, the girls. He finds all that shit tacky and bizarre.
Cruz likes to read. He likes to play videogames with his friends online. When he goes out, he usually ends up at Target trying to buy Pokémon cards. I’ve covered for him a bunch of times and took him to various Magic: The Gathering tournaments in downtown Austin. Nerdy games like that aren’t exactly encouraged when the family business is killing, stealing, and moving cocaine across borders.
But it’s who my little brother is. He’s a good person, a strong person even, but he’s got a gentle soul.
He doesn’t belong at this place.
Bass parks outside the most stereotypically grungy house I’ve ever seen. Moldy roof, weeds in the yard. The lawn’s cut, but it looks like someone did it as fast as possible. The windows are intact and there’s no visible trash, but the whole place has an ugly aura about it, like it’s barely standing up.
Two expensive cars are parked in the driveway, a Mercedes and a BMW, and a couple junkers are against the curb.
“I’ll be back soon.” Bass unbuckles himself and gets out. He pauses and reaches back inside, pops open the glove box, and pulls out a gun.
I stare in surprise. “That was in there the whole time?”
“One of many.” He checks the magazine to make sure it’s loaded before shoving it into his waistband. “Don’t move.”
He strides off.
And I start counting down in my head.
I should probably listen. Bass is a part of this world. He’s the Don of a powerful family, but he doesn’t understand. Cruz is the most important person in my life. I practically raised him considering my mother was checked out for most of his life. If anything bad happened to him, I don’t know what I’ll do.
And worse, this feels like my fault.
Ruben never paid any attention to Cruz before I got married to Bass.
I can’t help but think my conversation with Don Nardo put my little brother back on their radar.
