I almost don’t care what else happens now that I’m certain he’s here to protect me. But I need to remain alert and vigilant because this is just starting.
“Where’s my woman?” The only way to describe Pablo’s question is a snarl.
I keep my arms over my head, but I rise enough to peer over the sofa.
“Pablo.”
His attention jerks toward me, and our gazes lock. Once he’s seen I’m all right, I duck back down. Pablo doesn’t hesitate to shoot two men. I don’t witness it, but I see the result. They collapse to the floor each with a bullet between the eyes. He’smaking a point. I twist so I can observe him now rather than see the outcome of his rage.
The window shatters, drawing my attention away. I watch a man fall and then see Javier on the other side of the window frame. Joaquin comes through the front door only a moment later, and I’m left wondering where Alejandro is. Jorge was directly behind Pablo when I first looked up.
I follow Pablo’s gaze and realize he’s noticedCabrón Dos.He glances at Joaquin then shifts his focus to Stumpy—his new name. Joaquin follows the silent instruction and grabs the injured man by the front of his shirt and hauls him out of the chair at the dining room table. Joaquin shoves the man toward Pablo who puts the barrel of his handgun to the man’s forehead.
There’s silence in the room for a moment, then another crash as the back door bursts open. I can’t help my curiosity, so I sit up. I feel more confident about exposing myself, so I look around. Alejandro storms in with men in front of him who tried to flee. He has Colombians with him. It’s easy to tell the difference among men I don’t know since all the Colombians are in suits, and the Mexicans are in jeans and t-shirts or hoodies.
There’s an unofficial hierarchy in Latin America that’s antiquated and colonial, but it flashes in my mind. Right now, I have no problem with my snobbery considering where I find myself. Let’s just say Colombia and Mexico aren’t on the same line when the countries are listed from best to worst, most desirable to be from to least desirable. At least neither country is at the bottom.
The men Alejandro and his guards stopped are shuffled into the living room and forced to kneel with their hands behind their heads. I’ve been in that position with Pablo before, but it had an entirely different outcome. I sweep my gaze around the room as Jorge comes to crouch beside me.
“Señorita, are you?—”
I ignore him when I suspect he’s asking if I’m okay. I scramble for the pistol on the coffee table in front of me. I grab it, click off the safety, and fire a round. It grabs everyone’s attention as the bullet goes throughCabrón Uno’skneecap. He was trying to fade into the hallway I assume leads to the bedrooms.
Pablo walks around the sofa to me and sticks out his hand. I don’t hesitate to take it, and he pulls me to my feet. His arm wraps around me, and he kisses me. It’s over far too fast, but at least we both know the other is okay. He leaves me with Jorge and Javier, who’s joined his brother and me by the sofa.
“What did thishijo de putado to wind up with half his hand chopped off?”
No one answers. I’m not sure that I should speak up and get involved, which is an odd thought to have after shooting a man in the leg. I guess I’m already pretty fucking involved.
Pablo waves his pistol, so the man with the half-amputated hand moves to follow Pablo’s silent directions. It puts him with his back against a wall. There’s nowhere for him to go. He’s Pablo’s singular target.
“What did you do to get half your hand chopped off? Did you touch my woman?”
Whatever word means something worse than menace is what I hear in Pablo’s voice. I don’t know what that is in English or in Spanish. I don’t even know if there is a word that means something worse. There should be. It sends chills through me as I watch the man I love become the man I’m certain he wishes I never saw, but I can’t fault him for it.
This is the man who rescued me. This is the man who’ll end all of what’s happened since I met Humberto. Hell, even before I met the dead pig.
“You really should tell me the truth yourself because if I hear it from someone else, especially my woman, it’ll go way worse for you. IfSeñoritaAguilar has to relive whatever you did whiletelling me, any punishment you imagine I could dole out will only be a sliver of what actually happens. What did you do?”
Pablo’s asked three times now, and it’s obvious that he won’t ask again.
“I slapped theseñoritabecause she was being defiant.”
It’s like a collective silent gasp in the room. Everyone takes a metaphorical step backward. The entire atmosphere shifts. It wasn’t when the man admitted to touching me. It’s when he called me defiant. He added insult to injury.
Now Pablo’s ready to rain down hellfire. He grabs the man’s hair, spins him, jerks him away from the wall. The barrel of his gun goes to the side of the man’s throat as he pushes him to face the wall. It’s a horrible sight as Stumpy’s face smashes into the brick that surrounds the fireplace. Joaquin heads over to Pablo and Stumpy. He yanks the makeshift bandage that’s barely hanging on around the guy’s hand. I wince when I see the damage done to his amputated fingers.
“Tell me everything, or you will enter a living hell from which there’ll be no escape until I’m done with you.”
Jorge moves to block my line of sight. I lean to see around him, but Alejandro walks up behind him. They’re a wall that’s impenetrable. I go onto my toes for a moment and can barely see between Jorge and Alejandro’s shoulders, but I watch as Pablo slaps the man over and over. There’s blood gushing from the stumps again. It’s pooling on the floor.
Alejandro peers back over his shoulder, then issues orders for men to go through the entire house and others to guard from the outside.
“Turn on the grill and make it look like you’re hanging out in the backyard.”
I suspect the gas grill will eventually accidentally catch fire and burn down the entire house. We seem in limbo while the men obey Alejandro. It only takes a few minutes before they givethe all-clear. Pablo walks back over to me. His gun is still in his right hand when he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him. Our foreheads rest together.
“Did they hurt you any other way,chiquita?” He keeps his voice low, so it’s barely more than a murmur.
