We watch three more shows before Vita’s lids droop. I don’t believe for a moment that she’s sleepy. Even if she were, she wouldn’t lower her guard enough to fall asleep with me here. But I’ll play along. I slide down the bed when she does. I roll onto my stomach and watch her as I drape my heavy arm over her belly.
“What’re you?—”
“Why not take a nap? I usually don’t have so much free time.”
“You’re not going to shackle me again?”
“And I’m the melodramatic one. Shh,chiquita. Rest. If you behave, I’ll keep you up all night.”
“I’ve heard that one before.”
“Just because I haven’t made you come yet doesn’t mean I lied. We have plenty of time ahead of us.”
I pull her closer and shift the pillow to share it with her. She tries to roll onto her side, but I don’t let her. Being on her side would make it far easier for her to back away from me. I watch as she closes her eyes. I told her earlier to take out the contacts and take off the wig, but I didn’t make her.
I wonder what her real hair looks like. I wonder about its length, its color, its texture. I wonder what color her eyes really are. They’ve been a different hue each time I’ve seen her. She might’ve changed the most recognizable features, but she didn’t disguise her pert nose or cupid’s bow lips. I’d recognize those anywhere.
I noticed the tiny dark freckle on the top and toward the end of her left shoulder the night we were on the yacht. I see it now. I’d recognize that too. I know what’s beneath the covers. I’ve touched her and etched her into my memory. Blindfold me, and I’d still know it was her just by touch.
I close my eyes and slow my breathing. It’s at least an hour before she moves more than to breathe. It’s subtle, but I can tell she brings her hands up to her mouth. I’m certain she’s using her teeth to release the tie. Her movements are slow so as not to disturb me. It would work if I were asleep. But I’m not. I was foolish to be so impetuous today, but I’m not foolish enough to sleep anywhere near my enemy.
It takes her several minutes, but I know when she gets loose. She remains still for at least another twenty minutes. She’s patient. I’ll give her that. Like a tortoise escaping a fox, she’s slow but purposeful with each movement until she’s free of my arm. Once I know she can’t see my face, I open my eyes a crack. She’s silent as she moves, but I sense where she is. She gathers her discarded clothes and rushes to put them on.
I watch as she scans the room for the things she most needs. She can’t get the gun or the knife she hid beneath the pillows because they’re too close to me. That wasn’t an accident. Sheevaluates what she’s willing to leave behind, knowing she must abandon this hotel. She hurries into the bathroom, and I’m certain it’s to get the syringes and vials of insulin.
I didn’t force her to share the room safe’s code. I knew she’d open it eventually, whether I insisted or she did it while trying to escape. I close my eyes almost entirely, but I see her from beneath my lashes. I knew she’d check over her shoulder while pressing the buttons, fearing it would beep when it unlocked. I pretend not to notice. She withdraws a gun, money, and passports that she shoves in her purse. The last thing she does is grab the keycard from the top of the dresser.
I hear her swing the latch away from the door, and the bolt turns as she presses down on the handle. I know what awaits her on the other side.
“Going somewhere,señorita?”
My eyes snap open, and I laugh. She knew I was awake but gambled on my overconfidence, thinking I’d still get her, while she planned to reach the door before I could move. Vita stumbles backward, and Pablo follows her into the room. His gaze darts to me, and I laugh again when he rolls his eyes.
“Vuelve a ponerte la camisa, pituso.” Put your shirt back on, pretty boy.
I’ve been hearing the colloquialism since I was a tween. It’s my turn to roll my eyes as I sit up. Vita whirls around as I reach for my shirt. I pull it on, then fasten my pants as I stand. I don’t bother with the belt.
“What the fuck?”
“Pleased to meet you too,señorita.”
Pablo, followed closely by Javier, is the least charming member of my family. His wife adores him and thinks his brooding is his most redeeming quality. She’s the only one.Tres J’ssaw the most fucked-up shit growing up in Bogotá without adad for several years. It scarred them and jaded them. I’ve done fucked-up shit working mostly alone in Latin America.
But Pablo—he was a sweet kid who had any gentleness exorcised from him as my generation’s chief enforcer. He doles out the worst punishments because of his role as heir to Latin America’s wealthiest and deadliest cartel. He’s been building his reputation since he was a teen in preparation for when he becomesjefe de jefes.
TíoEnrique had to do the same thing when he was younger. Except Pablo’s already in his thirties, and our mutualtíowill likely live at least another twenty years. Our mutualabuelo—grandfather—died when ourtíowas in his early twenties. Ourtío’sruled most of the Western Hemisphere’s underworld for more than three decades.
Fuck Salvatore Mancinelli and his claim of dominance. They’re close in age and ruled for nearly the same amount of time. I’ll give Salvatore his due for controlling all the Mafia branches in the US, and his word is law in most of Sicily. But he doesn’t have the clout mytíodoes. Nobody does.
“What’re you doing here?” Venom drips from Vita’s words, and she practically snarls when I answer for my cousin.
“I invited him. I had plenty of time while snooping through your toiletries.Primo, sorry for making you wait so long.” Cousin.
“I heard thenovelain here, so I watched it on my phone. I love how you can skip watching for a few years, then pick up right where you left off. Reminds you ofAbuela, doesn’t it?”
“Sí.”
Despite the situation, Pablo and I exchange a glance. We both miss ourabuela. She was a wonderful woman who spoiled us as much as she threatened us. If anyone could’ve wielded achanclalike a machete,it was that woman. But she never neededto. She hadthe look. It conjured more guilt than any priest or nun could and made you obey faster than thumb screws would.
