“Órale, that is rather clever.”
“Don’t tell him that or he will tell you the many tales of Prince Ivan.” Carlos laughed. “So unless you have all day…” He shook his head.
I nodded at him. “I get it. So do these two vatos know each other?”
Carlos sighed. “Yes and that is a problem. They are competitive.”
“Oh, so do they fight?”
“Yes.” He laughed. “It’s all in fun though. Bien, sometimes it is. Mostly, just verbal sparring. These guys love to debate and they obviously love legends.” He shrugged. “I do too, suppose?”
“The Castilian roses?” I asked.
He sighed and looked down at his hands that he also folded into his lap. “I admit, my legend is maybe just as complicated as my two friends. And maybe it is just as crazy. But it’s from our home country. I felt like I got hit with a brick when I read the story.”
I stared at him. “So? Tell me your legend then?”
He smiled at me though his eyes looked sad then he began, “Ok… so one day, a carpenter named Juan, saw an apparition of a woman on a hill near Mexico City. She spoke to him in his native Nahuatl language and when she did that, he recognized her as being the Virgin Mary. She then told Juan she wanted him to build a church at the very top of the barren hill above the town. All the locals knew that the top was all sand. Everyone who lived in that area knew that nothing ever grew there. But when he got to the top, he found it to be awash with blooming Castilian roses. He and Mary gathered the roses and she arranged them inside his cloak. And then doing as she instructed on her feast day, Juan opened his cloak before the Bishop of Mexico City. When he did this, the flowers all fell to the floor, revealing the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe. And this is the very image we know so well. The one that has been painted in all the Mexican churches. The ones in the stained-glass windows with the image from Juan Diego’s cloak, ortilma. And it hangs to this day inside the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe on Tepeyac Hill in Mexico City.”
I nodded. “I have been there on that very hill and I have seen this church.” I tilted my head at him. “Many of our people in Mexico travel there on Feast Day. Then did you say his name was Jaun Diego?”
Carlos nodded. “Yes and again, do not ask me to explain that coincidence. But one thing I am sure of…The Diego Cartel is not related. I hope.”
I took a deep breath and told him, “And there you are wrong. At least Quanto’s father would tell you that. He claims to come from that family line of all things. He reminds his son of this often. Why? I have no idea. Maybe he wants the killing to stop even though he should know better. His son will not step aside. And I have to agree. If you show any weakness, you are as good as dead.” I paused to look at Carlos. “But what does that saint story have to do with the kids?”
“I had the roses inked onto my chest when I found out where they were. In a vow, that someday, I would make that wrong my father did… right. I would climb that hill so to speak and get those kids, then take them to Gabriela. Just like Juan took the roses to the bishop. These two men know the calls I made to them means that I was calling in my favor. As in,the roses have bloomed.”
I stared at him. “Mierda…One thing I never would have guessed was that you, Carlos Castillo…” I shrugged. “Would be so…” I just shook my head. I didn’t know if I should tell him my thoughts or not.
Chapter Six:The Bad Guy
Carlos
I waited for her to finish her thought but when she said nothing more, I asked, “I’m so what?” I laughed. “Sentimental? A fool that believes in legends?”
Selena shrugged. “I like the legends. But what I mean is…So human. So deep? Like you inking your chest in a vow for those kids. All while Gabriela believes you never cared about them. While you worked for the cartel. Killed people and took captives.”
I slowly shook my head. “After this, I shall be a new person. In fact, I already am. Or maybe I never existed. Carlos Castillo is a fake. I am not cold blooded. I do not crave violence. I was never a real killer, never a willing participant. I was an act. I acted like Santiago expected, demanded. I was the whole package he made. One he created from lies and threats. Just to scare them all. Just like El Chappo or any of those thugs. And my family even believed it.” I stared at her as sadness washed over me at all the useless life that I had lived so far. Wasted time. Days, months and years spent while being someone I hated. “Gabby never fully believed it though. I knew that by the way she looked at me. She loved me. Or at least she used to.”
Selena stared at me and told me in a soft voice, “I believe she still does. I will always love my brother.”
“Si, but he was as close to a human angel as anyone could get. Me?” I smirked. “I am a bad guy,” I used a heavy Cuban Al Pacino voice.
Selena burst out with laughter.
I scoffed and stayed in character, mimicking what he had said in Scarface, “You need people like me, so you can point your fuckin' finger and say,That's the bad guy!”
Selena laughed even louder.
“Chingar,” I muttered under my breath. Her smile and that laugh just turned me on to no end. I was sure of that now. How was I gonna proceed with this journey? To find the kids with her and not want to have her? Taste her, and feel what I knew would be the softest skin I’d ever touched?
Her laughter stopped abruptly and she stared at me.
As I stared back, I wondered if she felt the same way. Attracted as all hell. I doubted it. She seemed to be self-controlled and unaffected. Our eyes remained locked though and I began to believe—
A loud knock came on the hotel room door.
I snapped my head to the side and stared at the door. If someone was here as a threat, I was helpless to do anything in defense. Well, mostly helpless. “Aguas, I don’t have a weapon,” I told her. “If—”
