The Cartel Lawyer by Dave Daren (ebook reader below 3000 TXT) 📕

power, but the bright lights of the hallway accented the purple bruises under her eyes, and as she started toward the neon exit sign, she leaned more on Laura than she usually would have.

I followed after them, close enough that I could rush forward and catch my mother if she needed it, but not so near that she would yell at me for hovering. I stuffed my hands in my pockets as the three of us walked through the lobby and out into the soupy, humid night air.

“Where did you park, mi hijo?” my mother asked when we had walked out of the double glass doors.

“Right over there,” I said as I pointed toward the old blue Honda. “You two wait here, and I’ll bring it here.”

“I can walk--” my mother started to protest.

“No, you can’t,” Laura snapped before I could reply.

As the two women started to argue again, I ran across the parking lot to the car. I hopped inside, backed out of my spot, and ignored the glow of the cigarette from the car that had followed me to the hospital.

I pulled up in front of my ama and Laura and quickly jumped from the driver’s seat. I left my door open while I ran around to open the passenger door. I helped Laura climb into the back seat, and then I eased my mother into the front passenger seat.

“Buckle up,” I told the two as I shut the door.

As I trotted back to the driver’s side, I saw the goon back out of his spot and drive slowly toward us. I clucked like an old hen and then climbed into my seat.

“Let’s go home,” my ama said as she leaned her head back.

“I’ll have you there soon,” I said as I shifted into drive.

The traffic had thinned between the hospital and my mother’s house, and I was glad that the two women were too exhausted to notice the black car that trailed half a mile behind us. They were both almost asleep in their seats when I pulled into the driveway and put the car in park, but as soon as the car stopped they both perked up.

“Let me help you into the house,” I said as I opened my door.

“No, mi hijo,” my ama huffed as she got out of the car and moved the seat for Laura. “You go home and get some rest. Us old ladies will be fine.”

“Si,” the other Cuban woman nodded after she climbed out and put the seat back into its place. “We’ll be fine.”

“You’ll call me if you need anything?” I asked with a lifted eyebrow.

“Of course, mi hijo,” my mother said around a yawn that made her rock back on her heels. “Now, go. You sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I muttered as she shut the passenger side door.

I watched as both of them went into the house, and I didn’t back out of the driveway until I’d seen the lights in the living room go out and I could be sure that they’d gotten into bed. I yawned as I put the car into reverse, but I kept myself going with the promise of coffee in my near future along with a hefty serving of arroz con pollo.

The black car followed me all the way back to the apartment, where it checked in with its replacement while I went back inside with nothing more than a wave to the men. I braced myself as I opened my apartment door, sure that Alvaro would once again be on my couch with his switchblade, but I was alone this time, and I let out a sigh of relief that came from the depths of my soul.

I walked over to the sink and splashed some cold water on my face to wake myself up enough to make my coffee. I had everything ready to go before I remembered that I still didn’t have any creamer. I contemplated a night of black coffee but settled instead on a nearby coffee shop that catered to the nightowls and college kids.

Once I’d washed my face again, I switched my button-up for an old band t-shirt and then grabbed my briefcase. I checked to make sure that I had my laptop, pen, and paper inside before I stepped back out of the apartment.

The new guy across the street watched me as I exited the building, and I trotted over to the car to let him know where I was headed. I was too tired to fight the threatening shadows at the moment, and besides, the guy could probably use some coffee, too.

“I’m headed out to the cafe down the street,” I told the scruffy young man in the driver’s seat.

“Staying up late?” he asked with a wry smile.

“I still have work to do,” I said. “You’re welcome to join me. I’ll probably be there for a while.”

“I might come in, but I can’t sit at the same table,” the guy said with a shrug. “You walking?”

“Yeah,” I responded.

“Hop in,” the younger man said. “I don’t feel like crawling along beside you.”

“Appreciate that,” I muttered while I walked around to the passenger side of the car.

He drove us to the cafe and then parked out front. He didn’t get out when I did, though, and I was too tired to ask him what his plan was. By that point, I really didn’t care, so I just gave him a wave and headed into the small coffee shop.

The place was on the basic side, with a few tables and chairs mixed in with old picnic tables. The only menu was an old chalkboard behind the register, and the main decoration was a collection of old movie posters on one wall. But the scent of the fresh coffee was overwhelming, and I felt myself start