Cadillac Payback: Rising Tide by AJ Elmore (the false prince .TXT) 📕

Maria is scaring the shit out of him. The family is staring like there’s a theater screen and popcorn. I’m not thinking as I stretch my arm around her and pull her against me. Sure, there’s a decent chance she’ll try to fight me, but she’s used to having a shield. What else have I ever been to her?

“What else can you tell us?” I ask. I’m surprised I actually sound like me, dry, level, not so loud.

He glances at me, but as quickly looks back to Maria like she might jump him at any moment. He clutches his folder with both hands in front of him and shifts his weight.

“His…insurance…might cover expenses so far,” says the nurse-doctor.

My stomach turns. I know what he means, and he doesn’t mean legal insurance. Abuela paid for me not to die, too. Yet another skeleton that I try my damnedest not to think about.

Maria steps forward, out of my grip, and says, “Trust me, he’s covered.”

I guess I’d be a little more off-put if I hadn’t seen this shade of her before. The other guy is poised to run.

“We-ugh-we’re doing everything we can,” he says, rushed. Sloppy.

“Thanks,” I answer.

All in. I lean forward and put an arm firmly down on her shoulders. I wouldn’t dare grab her, but I’ll bring out the heavy artillery to diffuse her violence. I fucking hate irony.

The contact and pressure make her sag against me. I’ll take it. Still.

Next thing I know, she’s shaking, and sniffing, and the tears are pouring down her face. If it weren’t for me, she’d be on the floor. I fold her against my chest, trying to ignore the way her head fits just beneath my chin, and the way her messy hair brushes my skin. This is everything I’ve avoided, because this is everything that makes me feel something other than apathy or rage.

As she trembles against me, with my arms wrapped around her, I realize something else. This is the test. Will I leave her here, alone or with somebody else, at Abuela’s command? Will I forsake my roots in the cartel for its leader?

Not a chance. Abuela can wait, or she can find me here if she wants my report so goddamned bad. I can feel the tears soaking through the front of my shirt. It feels like blood. There’s no one else to be her rock just now, no way in hell I would let her go and leave her alone.

I draw a long breath through my nose. The inside of me is not nearly as calm as the outside. My gut is twisted and anxiety hammers against my rib cage. Hearing the reality that Josh could very well die soon hits me a lot harder than I would have ever expected. I guess at this point in our journey, I might as well admit that he’s a friend, as much as I keep him at arm’s length. Like everyone.

Something else stinks here. Sure, Josh doesn’t mean shit to Abuela, but if he took a hit like that, she should as much as guess that Maria was there. Yet there’s been no phone call, or text, nothing.

I’m so mad that my eyes water.

Chapter 25 Bonds

Isaiah

This has been the most Monday of Mondays I’ve ever had. My meeting with Jorge was postponed on his side. The sky has been a gray blanket of cloud all day, a hot oppression that’s easy to forget when you live on a beach. And I have a righteous hangover.

Maybe the best part so far is that in the absence of business, I’ve been fettered to Mona’s boy toy, Lucas, for all the mundane tasks of the day. Usually she oversees my babysitting, but I guess after last night, she doesn’t want to see me. I’m so excited I could puke.

That part is fine. I don’t want to see her either. Never again would be okay. But ol’ Lucas here, he could walk into traffic and the world wouldn’t notice.

He’s young, probably graduated from college not long ago. He’s mousy, wears a cardigan tied around his shoulders, and is the type to put dates in his phone. I doubt he even knows weight conversions. So when I say I’m going for a walk, he has to come. It’s getting dark, and it’s still hot as hell, but I can’t take the stagnation anymore.

I march out the heavy wood front door, stomp down the semi-circle of stairs, and along the walkway lined with dark green plants. I can hear his hurried, awkward footsteps behind me. For all he knows, I might run, or fight him. If I split, he’d never know what didn’t hit him.

It’s not his camp that scares me into staying.

I step out from behind the vine-covered fence onto the sidewalk. Red flags fly as I notice there’s someone directly in front of me. My body tenses, from my hands balling into fists, through my shoulders, and into my core. I push back an elbow that Lucas runs into before he runs into me. He grunts when his sternum connects with the point of my arm.

I hardly trust my own eyes as I recognize the person standing before me. It’s Freddy. He takes a step back, but otherwise doesn’t move. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, dark jeans, and motorcycle boots. A pair of black sunglasses hide his eyes. I’ve never seen Freddy in white.

The sky chooses now to loose slow, fat raindrops that plop down upon us. We stare for a stretch. Time distorts. The fact that I saw him coming means he’s not here to kill me, but I can’t even guess at why he did come.

“Oh, did you get a new lover?” he asks in true Freddy fashion, no inflection, no challenge. That’s the same flat tone I’ve ever heard from him.

For a tense moment, my voice is lodged in my throat with all my agitation from