Page 15 of Liar
“You don’t know, do you?”
A chill runs up my spine. “Know?”
“About the allegiance ceremony. Your brother won’t be returning home until he swears loyalty to a boss.”
I’m speechless. This can’t be right. My brother isn’t joining a cartel, not after everything we’ve been through. I growl, and Javier steps back. “No.”
“Anyone not affiliated will swear loyalty to either The Lobos, Z22, or Sureños. Everyone must understand their place. It’s how we’ll keep the peace.”
“Peace? Are you smoking peyote?”
Javier stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“You believe living in a community where loyalties are split three ways will stop the violence? One insult, one wrongdoing, and this trio will crumble. What happens when Ignacio seduces the wrong woman, say a Z22? You think María Fernanda won’t seek retaliation? This is how cartels solve conflict.” I step toward Javier, who falls back to stand just outside the doorway. “When is this ceremony?”
“Wednesday.”
Without another word, I close the door on him.
I’ve never been the kind of girl who sits idly by while her brother shows his middle finger to the world. Patience might be a quality I’m lacking, but batting the curve balls life tosses our way is something I excel at.
* * *
“Boss says to go home.”
Guards stand watch over the front entrance of the Lobos’s new digs, formally the Cobras headquarters and nicknamed The Hole. A chain-link fence surrounds the massive compound and the U-shaped building inside. Entry is by invitation, which the Bastard has just denied.
“If I’m not allowed inside then someone should inform Diego Murillo de Romero that his sister insists on speaking with him.”
They look at me with fresh eyes.
I shake my head, exasperated. His badass reputation has certainly won over this crowd. “Well? Are you going to stand here or are you going to communicate my message?”
“The bosses are seated and about to accept oaths. It’d be a sign of disrespect if Diego were to leave now.”
How difficult would it be to sprint passed them and into the compound beyond? Impossible. Besides, didn’t I learned a lesson about trying to outrun a group of armed men? “Just deliver my message and allow Diego to decide.”
A guard nods then stalks across the courtyard.
A few minutes pass before two men appear just inside the double-doors. They pause briefly to look around before swinging both doors closed behind them.
“Too late now,” a guard confirms my fears.
Diego’s really going to do this, without consulting me.
Ithurts.
We’re a team, my brother and I. Loss, pain, and fear made us so. How else do two teenagers survive in this violent world without their parents to provide for and protect them?
Less than three months after my parents were killed, a very raw and somewhat drunken Diego informed me that we had financial woes. The money my parents gave freely to struggling families had left us with little savings. “See these,” my father would always say when money was tight, flipping his hands over to show me his palms. “Strong hands mean ample work. It’s a gift not everyone receives.”
They weren’t strong enough to stop a bullet. I’d do anything to see Papi’s hands again.
I used Papi’s tactic to reassure my brother by flipping my hands over and saying, “So we’ll work.” And we did.
Diego managed several jobs, everything from auto mechanic to construction worker to gas station manager. The worst was when he was hired to dig a secret tunnel leading from the mayor’s house to a cluster of saguaros out in the desert. Accepting bribes from a cartel is never wise—the mayor, of all people, should know that. But pocketing money from competing cartels with the promise of ruining the others’ businesses? His scam was a ticking time bomb and cause enough to start digging. The Zetas were the first to figure out each of the competing cartels drug-trafficking profits were at an all-time high. Drugs mean money. Money means power. Who can get there the fastest is the name of the game.
The mayor was killed in the middle of the night while lying in a bed located a mere twenty feet away from the secret tunnel’s entrance. “Never heard them coming,” Diego had concluded, then showed me two hands with palms facing up. “Hard work will get you far.” He tapped a finger to his temple. “But brains get you to where you want to go. Shame the mayor didn’t have any.”
