Page 105 of Cartel King

“He’s still following me.”

I went back to crouching after I shot the men in the last two cars. I lift my head just enough to peer out the back window. Matías is there, but not as close as he was.

I wonder if that’s because Matías realizes there’s no one else to help him. Or is it because he knows he has people to help, so he doesn’t need to stay that close? My mind wars with those two options, knowing either is possible. I disassemble the shotgun and the rifle as Enrique speaks to his family. I put them back in the duffel bag, pulling out my handgun with a loaded magazine and a spare.

I climb back into the front seat as Enrique explains we were headed to Luis and Margherita’s, but he’s decided we’re going to his house after all.

“I’m taking a roundabout way again, so it’ll take me a little while. Give me twenty minutes to get there. I’m activating my tracker now. If I’m not there in twenty minutes, you need to find us.”

It tempts me to activate mine.

My boys are the ones who’d get the alert. It’s in a bracelet they gave me. Not exactly as a divorce present, but as the result of the divorce, because the tracker I wore for nearly three decades linked to Tommaso’s system, and I definitely don’t want him monitoring my whereabouts. Plus, it wouldn’t have done me any good living in New Jersey when all his men are in Boston.

Even though two of my boys are in Boston and one is in Connecticut, if something happens to me, they should know. It surprises me I didn’t already think to press the alert. It wasn’t that I was too distracted. I’ve been in more chaotic scenarios than this. It was my implicit trust in Enrique to get us out of this that kept me from thinking about hitting my tracker.

I settle into the front seat, putting my seatbelt on. It’s always nerve-wracking being in any type of vehicle chase without a seatbelt on, but there are plenty of times where that’s not an option, like tonight. I keep my eyes peeled for anything that appears unusual.

“I’ll call you back, Pablo, if anything changes. Remember, twenty minutes.”

“All right,tío, twenty minutes.”

Enrique ends the call, and while we have a moment’s reprieve from whatever the fuck is going on, he sticks out his right hand, and I eagerly lace the fingers of my left hand with his.

It’s a moment of reassurance for both of us. Part of me wants to ask what he would do if he were in this situation with another woman. Would his ex-wife have been able to handle it? Would she have been anything like me? I know he didn’t love her and was glad to be rid of her once they divorced because of her infidelity and betrayal, but I’ve wondered a few times if I’m anything like her.

I have olive skin and dark hair. Could I look anything like her?

“Chiquita, I’m sorry we’re going through this, but I’m so damn glad you’re so capable. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you with me right now. I’d probably be dead.”

“Don’t say that. Never, ever say that. You and I both know the possibilities without you saying them aloud.”

“All right,chiquita, I’m sorry, but I’m still so damn proud of you. I know how fortunate I am that you have the skills you do. This would be a very different situation if you didn’t.”

“I’m certain there are other women out there like me you could’ve fallen for.”

“Chiquita, there’s no one out there like you. That’s why I haven’t found another woman who makes me feel the way you do. And if you’re wondering, no, Daniela never could’ve done any of this. She would’ve been more liability than benefit. You two are nothing alike, and that makes me even more grateful for you. You know how much I worry about you, and I’ll never stop—especially since this situation reminds us of the danger I bring to you—but I’m so damn lucky you’re with me. I don’t know that I’d survive this with someone else.”

“Daddy, we don’t know that this is about you at all. It could be entirely about me, so until we find out otherwise, don’t blame yourself for anything unless you want me blaming myself, too.

“Definitely not,cariño.”

“Then don’t take this on yourself. We’ll figure this out together.”

We fall silent for a moment as we both flicker our gazes to the mirrors. I use the side-view mirror on my door, and Enrique keeps checking the rearview one. We’re the only people on this side street, but I recognize where we are, and we’ll soon be on the highway. This is definitely a roundabout way to get to his house, but so far I don’t see Matías’s car, and no other vehicle is too close. I won’t let my guard down, though.

We both remain vigilant. I watch the exit ramps and entry ramps as we go past each one, waiting with knots in my stomach and a lump in my throat that this might be the one. That’s where somebody catches up to us.

When Enrique pulls off the highway, my gun rests in my lap. I put my free hand on the door, my finger resting over the window button. We think of the same thing at the same time because we let go of each other, and Enrique picks up his handgun while I do the same.

We’re both prepared to shoot. I’m left-handed, but I can do most things ambidextrous because it’s a challenge to be left-handed in a right-handed world. I can shoot with either, so I’m not worried I won’t manage from this side if I need to. Once I get the window down, I can switch hands. I wonder whether Enrique can shoot easily with his left one.

“Cariño, I see how comfortably you’re holding that gun. I learned to shoot with both hands as well. My father insisted. All of my nephews and my brother know how, too.”

I nod. I want to learn more about his childhood, but it saddens me when these brief insights are about how he learned to survive this brutal life. I’m grateful for how normal a childhood my kids had. I’m certain I didn’t have the same worries his parents did, and I didn’t have to teach my children the same lessons his parents did.

“Don’t worry, little one. One of these days, I’ll tell you cheerful stories from when I grew up.”

I glance over at him, and even though he’s still looking straight ahead, he smiles.

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