Page 17 of Black Wave

I bounce from foot to foot, feeling anxious about the uncertainty of my situation but grateful for the opportunity to be away from imminent danger. “Umm, thanks for everything.”

He brings me in for a hug, kisses my forehead, and quickly releases me, turning to walk out the door.

I follow him and use the key he gave me to lock it. Once I hear the click, I slip out of my clothes and pull back the luxurious duvet. I turn the lights off and see lightning illuminating the night sky. I settle into bed as the heavens pour their tears down on me.

CHAPTER 9

Emma

Iawaken to the sound of men talking outside in a familiar language. The morning light streams through the windows, and I can practically feel the morning dew steaming off the grass outside. We are well into summer here in Mexico, despite only being the end of May, and the temperature is hot. Hades hot. Luckily, I am in a climate-controlled house that camouflages the true feeling of summer.

I reluctantly get out of the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in and give myself a good stretch. My body feels unexpectedly well-rested. I open the closet doors and am immediately assaulted with a wardrobe for every occasion.

“Holy shit.” I blow out a breath as I begin rummaging through the clothing, I settle on a pair of yoga pants, a mid-crop hoodie, and seamless undergarments, making my way toward a much-needed shower.

The bathroom is spacious, and the tiles feel cool under my bare feet. The colorful ceramic tiles in the shower are beautiful, and I ache to touch the bright-blue tile and trace the patterns I remember from when I was here last. The mosaic-looking tiles are a repeated theme throughout the house. The bright blues were a favorite of my aunt’s.

I strip out of my clothes and turn the shower jets on. The steam fills the bathroom, and I immediately turn the temperature down, knowing it will feel good to be cool before I go outside to see my uncle. The scent of vanilla from the bath gel permeates the air, and I sigh in contentment.

After a most lavish shower, I dress quickly and put on a pair of Converse sneakers. I spread some tinted moisturizer on my face and apply minimal makeup. I won’t need to do much today, since I am getting answers and learning about our revenge plan. Lastly, I put my hair into a messy bun and step out of my room, quickly locking the door behind me and pocketing the key for safekeeping.

I quickly take the steps to the lower level, fighting the sudden urge to slide down the banisters as I frequently did in my youth. I chuckle to myself, remembering all the suppressed memories of my time here. Resisting, I hop off the last step and walk toward the sounds of conversation coming from the back of the house.Is my uncle still back there?

I reach the kitchen and see many men outside on the hacienda-style courtyard terrace. I immediately notice that there is no female presence in sight.

Sure, I mumble to myself. It’s nota threatening vibe at all.

It would feellessthreatening if I’d at least recognized a few faces besides my uncle and cousin. I open the door to the covered patio, where a large spread of food covers the entirety of the table. The condensation drips from the carafes holding the breakfast beverages. The ceiling fans rotate, circulating the humid air that hangs in an oppressive blanket around us. It hasn’t yet reached ninety degrees, a small blessing this morning. However, wait until noon.

“Sit and have some food, Mija.” Uncle Andrés motions with his hand to the enormous food spread before us. I quickly take his advice, not needing to be told twice.

Adrian, reading my thoughts, smiles. “You didn’t have to ask twice, huh, Dad? Some things don’t change.” Adrian chuckles at my vigor in stacking large quantities of fruit and Mexican confections on my plate.

I promptly sit on my chair and sprinkle a salt, lime, and chili mixture on my citrus fruits. Someone places a horchata on my right side, and I smile while beginning to eat. All my childhood foods are served, and I wonder if my uncle didn’t plan this on purpose. Soon, someone clears their throat, and my bright-pink frosted cake is stilled midway to my mouth as I turn to the noise source.

“We should discuss what we must do about your situation, Emma.” I hear my uncle talking, and I slowly place the cake back on my plate.

My uncle sees this and frowns at the action. I shake the crumbs off my napkin and pat the corners of my mouth, nodding in agreement.

“You’re right, Tio.”

I lift my glass of water, placing the condensation against my forehead. Gulping the entire glass of water, I set it on the table and face my body toward my uncle, giving him my full attention.

“Do you have a plan, or do you have any questions for me, Tio?”

He nods. “I have plenty, Emma. Though, why don’t you start at the beginning.”

And I do. I tell Tio how I met Julian and how he relentlessly pursued me, isolating me from all my friends until I was only with him. I tell him about confiding in my sister about everything I went through with Julian and the intervention of my parents and Evie, all leading up to the plan to run. It was supposed to all work, until it didn’t, and they were killed.

“We didn’t expect that either, Emma.” Uncle Andrés stands from his chair and paces back and forth.

Adrian and I look at each other.

“How did it happen, Tio? I thought we were safe?”

He shakes his head. Regret and sadness are etched on his face before he conceals it.

“I suspect a listening device was hidden in your house, allowing him to hear about your plans. This gave him the heads-up he needed to eliminate the threat. I don’t think he knew about us because my call was secure. He must have only heard one side, so he did not know who or what was said, only what your mother was saying. We never use names. She grew up in this life. She knew better.”

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