Diesel looks at me closer. “You’ve got the same eyes though.”
“Our one redeeming feature.”
“I’ve only met him a few times, but you’re nothing like him. He’s kind of a?—”
“Screw-up? Deadbeat? Pain in the ass?”
“All of the above, but the bottom line is he works for Benito, who heads the cartel. He’s ruthless and will stop at nothing to get what he wants.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
I’ve gone this far, might as well seal the deal.
“Six months ago, Eduardo called me in the middle of the night practically crying in desperation. He begged me to meet him at a dive bar in Imperial Beach, and to bring money because he was in deep trouble. I brought whatever money I had, and when I got there . . .”
“What happened when you got there?”
“I went into the back door of the deserted club like Eduardo instructed.” I rub my sweaty palms on the t-shirt. “There were three men with Eduardo. One of them was Benito. I gave them the money, but it wasn’t enough. Eduardo tried to bargain with them. There was yelling and screaming back and forth, but in the end, I was the collateral.”
“Shit, your brother sold you to the cartel.”
“Pretty much.” I bite my lower lip. “They grabbed me and bundled me into a van waiting in the alley. At first, I couldn’t believe it. I thought they were just threatening him, but the van doors slammed shut, and I was headed for Rosarito.”
“That is fucked-up.”
“It showed how desperate he’d become. His gambling anddrug habit put him in huge debt with the cartel, and I was payment.”
“Fuck, babe, I don’t wanna ask what you had to do.”
“Probably not what you’re thinking.” I draw in another deep breath. “They housed me in a barracks-like building with twenty-four-hour guards.”
“Go on.” His calm demeanor freaks me out.
“Once a week, I would strap drugs to my body, travel over the border to Imperial Beach, exchange the drugs for money and head back to Rosarito.”
“And when you were in the States, couldn’t you contact someone or try to get away?”
“They’d send me with someone from the cartel. Usually someone who looked my age, making us seem like just another couple.”
“I can’t believe he kept you prisoner for six months, or that you never got caught goin’ over the border.”
“It helped that the cartel has dirty cops and guards at the border on their payroll, plus in the right clothes, I made myself look like a teenager.” I sweep my hand over myself. “Not really that hard. We had all the proper documents, and no one ever stopped us.”
“Fuck!” He slams his hand against the sofa. “The next time I see that bastard, Benito, he’s over.”
I grab his arm. “You don’t understand. You can’t beat these people. They control everything and everyone here in Mexico and in the States.”
“Nah, you’re wrong, babe. The Bastards have gained just as much power in Tijuana.”
“In Tijuana maybe, but their reach is far beyond this city.”
Diesel pushes off the couch. “I need a fuckin’ drink.” He turns to me. “You want another water?”
I nod, and a few minutes later, he returns with a half tumbler of whiskey for him and another bottle of water for me.
“Amazing and fucked-up at the same time.”
