Page 45 of Don't Trust Him

Hanging from bridges, attached to street signs, staged for cops and passerby to get the message as much as those who gain the ire of the cartels.

Every horror in front of me, there, in my half-dream state. But you know what?

I’m not afraid.

Because in reality, Grayson is holding me. He’s bathing me. He’s getting a doctor to look at my wounds, but he’s taking care of me every step of the way.

And in the hazy, half out of it and then hopped up on painkillers side, Grayson Teague and I are the king and queen of the underworld. Everywhere the blood touches is our kingdom, every suffering that happens is because we set it in motion. We are the cartel, not the bitches of the cartels that think that they own us. We’re free.

We’re fighting, but we’re free.

All it takes is life-threatening injuries and a little bit of torture from your mother to get you to tell the man of your dreams—no matter how much he’s your most inappropriate suitor of all time -- that you love him. To see a future with him as a reality.

But what also fucking helps is the way he never lets me out of his sight. How he holds me. How he tells me about a thousand times that he loves me. Grayson recites it like a prayer, and I hold onto it as I come back into reality, stronger and better.

A weakness within me died, and a strength was born. If I’d killed my mother, the darkness would have controlled me.

But I control my darkness. I harness it. I use it. It makes me strong instead of me being strong armed by it.

It makes me goddamn invincible. Grayson and I could go up against the Bonita Muerte and Cabeza Dios. Up against any motherfucker who crossed us.

This is the man who calls mobsters cocksuckers by way of hello.

That begs me to go out for a drink with eyes that have never seen any warmth in their life but those eyes are so warm towards me.

That brings water to my lips so slowly and tenderly to nurse me back to health.

He’s the love of my life, and you better fucking believe I’m a ride or die kinda girl.

I’m a crazy girl, but I’m no fool. She knows my soulmate when she sees him. Grayson Teague is my soulmate.

Twenty-Six

Grayson

Eliza’s back in better health now.

Eliza loves me.

So these two things together start my brain spinning wheels in every direction until I get a suspicion that needs confirming.

I don’t think anyone higher up in either cartel, other than Eliza’s mother, knew we’d finished the batch of coke squared.

This is important because it can give us the most valuable asset of all. Time.

Time to get a plan together. To make a move. To have some loyalties in our favor before, should we decide to go through with a plan we both want, so that we aren’t immediately open season for every cartel.

We could stand a fighting chance to get away with the best product that anyone has ever seen. Eliza and I have the skills. We may even have the connections, if we have lead time.

“Call your boss,” I tell Eliza. “Tell him you have an update. Let me call mine first…” I can tell Eliza is wondering if I’m saying what she thinks I’m saying.

I fucking am, baby.

This could be our game. We just have to trust each other. I know Eliza will only admit to me or herself that she could when she’s on painkillers, now, but maybe given this opportunity, it will break through some of her barriers, and she’ll see that we’re worth fighting for, not just for fighting each other.

“Zario. Yeah. It’s me,” I say when he picks up on the second ring. Fuck, he wants his shit ASAP and that’s so not what he’s fucking getting from me. “Just wanted to update you. I think I need three more days and I’ll have the final piece. Some particularly wily fucks to hunt down,” I say.

This is a fucking risk. If he did know that I prepared a batch of coke squared, he’d be ready to end me.

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