“They are your sisters.”
“And you’re my brother!” she suddenly screamed. Her face contorted, all control, all the fa?ade disappearing in one second. “You’re my brother and I haven’t heard from you for years! Years! You just left us, all of us! Once Beatriz was gone, it’s like you thought the rest of us died too!”
She pushed him back with one hand, snatched my beer from me with the other and stormed off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. So much dramatic door slamming already.
Javier looked pale. I almost felt sorry for him until I remembered he’d been lying to me about sending money to his sisters. How much was the price of his rise to the top? How much money had he kept to himself to ensure he could pay off the right people? Not family, not the people who needed it, but the people who could help him with his single-minded goal?
He rubbed his ashen lips together and went to the fridge to bring out a bottle of water. He drank it back in one go and tossed it in the sink when he was done. The air was thick with tension and humidity and I felt awkward, unsure of what to do or say. One glance to Camden let me know that I wasn’t alone. I hadn’t been prepared to be brought into family drama. Then again, neither of us had been prepared for anything really. Except, apparently, for Camden when he shot down that helicopter. He did that with such ease that it floored me and seriously had me hot and bothered every time I thought about it, no matter how inappropriate the circumstance.
And yeah, standing in my ex-lover’s sister’s apartment was a pretty inappropriate circumstance. I bit my lip and looked away from Camden. Getting turned wasn’t going to help me at the moment and his tight tee-shirt was only making it worse.
I slowly went to Violetta’s door and rapped on it gently.
“Violetta?” I asked. I waited, hearing her stirring inside. I didn’t expect her to want to talk to me and I wasn’t sure why I cared so much about getting her safe. If anything, she seemed slightly untrustworthy thanks to her casual ties to Los Zetas. Well, that and the fact that she was related to Javier.
Suddenly her door flung open and I jumped out of the way as she marched past me to the front door.
“I’m starving,” she announced, taking her gun and stuffing it in her purse. “Which one of you people is going to buy me lunch?”
We all looked at Javier.
He grunted and went for the door, holding it open for us. “Okay, but we aren’t going far and we are going to talk about this, Violetta.”
She rolled her eyes and we followed her out.
Luckily the café she was thinking of was only three blocks away. The air had somehow grown more oppressive while we’d been inside, or maybe it was that I felt heavier after meeting Violetta. I could see this wasn’t going to be easy for Javier and unfortunately if it wasn’t easy, it wasn’t quick and if it wasn’t quick, I was further from getting to Gus.
Though I tried to prevent my brain from going there, I had to wonder what Travis was doing to him right now. There was a cartel leader in the Baja who was infamous for drowning people in vats of acid. I wondered if Travis would do anything so depraved; maybe my leg was just his first little taste. When I had looked at that man, I couldn’t see any trace of humanity in him. He was a shell, a mask, the devil disguised as El Hombre Blanco. Now he had Gus, and he had my mother, and the idea of rescuing them seemed more and more impossible.
“Hey,” Camden said to me, voice lowered, as we walked down the cracked pavement, Javier and Violetta ahead of us. He put his warm hand on the small of my back and I felt both strong and weak at the same time. “How’re you holding up?”
I looked up at him, squinting against the sun that fought valiantly through the smog. “I’m holding up.”
He shot me a smile. “We’ll get to him, don’t worry.”
He could read me like a book.
“It’s just every second that we’re here …,” I started.
“We’ll get him,” he said more grimly, then removed his hand. I couldn’t tell who the “him” was in that sentence – Gus, Javier or Travis? I think if it were up to Camden, he’d get them all in some shape or form.
The café was a busy place, noisy and dark and thick with cigarette smoke. Javier was looking paranoid as he scoped the room and I couldn’t really blame him. But everyone in the café were drinking copious amounts of beer and coffee, ordinary citizens of Mexico City, minding their own business, not even pausing to look up at us.
We were able to squeeze into a small booth near the back, the Bernals on one side of the booth, Camden and I on the other. Violetta immediately brought out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up.
“You smoke?” Javier asked her, looking disgusted.