“Señorita, we’re just talking whether or not you like what I say. You really don’t want to pull that gun on me. You won’t get a shot off, but you are likely to get hurt while you try.”
He allows my arm enough movement for me to bring my hand back up to the counter. I place both on the surface. He immediately lets go. This wasn’t how I’d hoped he’d restrain my wrists. Kinky sex is likely the furthest thing from his mind right now.
“Señorita, you are more than just his assistant.” He sweeps his gaze over the prescriptions behind me before he meets my gaze again. “If you aren’t his mistress, then you’re even more foolish than I thought.”
“So now you’re only insulting me. Leave, Pablo.”
He leans farther across the counter and practically purrs in my ear. “Say that again. The last bit.”
“You need to leave.”
“Say my name,chiquita.”
“You might think I’m fucking your uncle, but I’m not a whore. You obviously know who I’m related to. This is the last time I’ll say this. Leave.”
He doesn’t move away from me, but his expression becomes deadly serious. His voice is just as low as it was a moment ago, but there’s an edge to it.
“I never thought you were, and I’d kill anyone who called you that,chiquita.”
Our gazes lock, and a shiver vibrates up and down my spine. I struggle not to shift and let him see how he affects me. His intensity is wholly attractive, but I remind myself he’s already tried to embarrass me.
“Remember that the next time you regret having anything to do with Humberto.”
My brow furrows. Is he offering his protection?
“Have a good day,señorita.”
He steps back and turns around. He’s so confident I won’t shoot him in the back that he walks straight down the aisle in front of me. He’s a clear target for the gun he knows I have hidden. All I do is stare.
“Mamá, you can’t avoid telling me forever. I’m not a child anymore.”
But Pablo did call me little girl earlier. It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. The way it rolled off his tongue. It did things to me. It did things to my pussy.
“Your father was a good man, and they murdered him for it.”
That doesn’t match the rumors I’ve heard my entire life.
“If he was so good, then why wouldlos Diazwant him dead?”
“They want anyone who isn’t one of them dead. They’re murderers. All of them. Even their women. His mother’s killed more than once.”
I’ve heard that story. It’s the stuff of legends. Apparently, Pablo was like two, and his younger brother was a baby. Some men tried to stop the convoy of cars headed to the family’s estate on San Andrés. She was going to meet Luis and his mother.Roadside bombs blew up the lead and last cars. Not realizing her family customized her vehicle in NYC and smuggled it here, men opened fire. It was a tank. Completely bulletproof with metal plates to protect the undercarriage. Despite the tires being shot, it kept moving.
From what I’ve heard, in the chaos that ensued, she put her sons on the floor—Juan wasn’t old enough to go anywhere, and I guess Pablo obeyed his mother—then she climbed into the trunk while the SUV continued moving. She opened a small window over the rear quarter panel. There was an arsenal back there, and she took out the men who flooded onto the street behind her SUV. Picked them off one by one.
She got out and tossed the rifle that had no bullets left on the ground. When the man in charge approached her, he assumed she gave in because she realized her attackers outnumbered her entourage. He thought she’d beg for mercy for her sons, for herself.
Instead, she drew a knife and stuck it in the guy’s aorta and dragged it across his throat before stabbing him in the eye. It covered her in blood. Like the fucking chick in the movieCarrie.
She challenged any man to come near her children and see if they could best her. No one did. People now whisper the name she earned.Huitaca. She was the Muisca goddess who represented art, music, and dance—and witchcraft and sexual liberation. The one who rebelled against the patriarchal god Bochica. She’s not exactly revered, but no one wants to test whether she has mythical powers.
“Mamá, we’re not discussing Margherita. Deflecting and distracting might have worked when I was little, but it won’t work now. You need to tell me the truth that no one else will.Abuelarefuses to talk aboutPapá.She always bursts into tears if anyone says his name.Abuelojust starts swearing. I didn’t askto work for Humberto, and now whateverPapádid before I was even born is likely to get me killed too.”
I don’t think for a moment Pablo will kill me. After how light his touch was this morning, I don’t think he’d hurt me either. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t get caught in the crossfire.
“Stop stirring up trouble where none exists, Florencia.”
“Mamá, you’ve done everything you can to protect me my entire life. But you can’t protect me now thatAbueloforced me to work for Humberto. I need to know exactly what he got me into. I think it’s a lot more than either of you told me.”
