He blinked, now unsure. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”
“What?!” I exclaimed, nearly knocking over my glass. I saved it just in time and swore under my breath.
“You don’t know?” Juanito said, and now there was fear in his eyes. I was too angry to coddle him.
I got up, my chair sliding noisily across the tile floor. “Do I look like I know?”
“Please don’t tell Este I told you,” he pleaded to me, his eyes now filled with fear.
I pursed my lips for a moment. Why would I tell Este? Juanito should be fearing Javier. And I was sure he would after I was done with him.
“I’m talking to my husband. Your patron.” And your patron, I thought to myself, who wants to keep you in the dark for as long as he can.
Not if I could help it.
I marched out of the kitchen, hearing Juanito curse to himself as I left. I went straight down the hall to my husband’s office and nodded at Diego standing guard outside of it.
“I need to speak with him,” I said, seething, my heart racing wildly in my throat.
I couldn’t see Diego’s eyes behind his dark aviator shades which he liked to wear, even inside. I only saw my reflection. I looked like a mess of a woman. I was a mess of a woman.
“He asked for no one to disturb him,” Diego said calmly.
“Is he busy getting some puta?” I asked, and he balked slightly at that.
“I don’t know what Javier does,” he said, even though I bet he knew exactly what Javier did. Bet he handed out the condoms. “But I have my orders.”
“And you realize I’m not going to obey them,” I told him. “I pay your salary too.”
He seemed to fall asleep on his feet before I realized he was probably staring at me and thinking. Then he took in a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Javier immediately barked, “I said fuck off!”
“He is in a bad mood, senora,” Diego said to me in a low voice. “Things didn’t quite go as he planned today.”
I raised my brows. “Today?”
“With the federale.”
I stared blankly at him. He tilted his head then nodded, realizing I didn’t know anything.
To his credit, he continued. “Javier was adamant that no one get killed. One of the federales reached for his gun and our sicario reacted. The federale is dead. But we do have Evaristo Sanchez now, as planned. Javier will get over it.”
“And me,” I said. “Do you know what happens to me? Sanchez is in the desert somewhere, right?”
“Yes,” he said simply. He didn’t care that he was the one informing me. Perhaps because Diego didn’t fear Javier. Diego certainly worked for him — for us — and was a man to be trusted, but Diego was at least twenty years his senior and had more experience in the cartels and in life, more than Javier had.
And Javier needed him.
He went on. “You will have to check with your husband about the details. But if I were you, it should wait.”
“It can’t wait. Juanito just said they are leaving tomorrow. You’re going too?’
His lips came together in a thin line and he didn’t answer, so I knocked on the door instead.
“Jesus Christ, Diego,” Javier swore from the other side. “What part of fuck and off do you not understand?”
I knew that Diego was giving me an “it’s your funeral” look under those glasses but I didn’t care. I put my hand on the knob and opened the door.
I stormed into the room, slamming the door behind me.
Javier wasn’t with another woman, not at the moment. He had just been standing at the window and staring out at the jungle and the craggy hills that rose above it in the distance, barely visible now in the dusk. An open bottle of tequila and a full highball glass were on the table.
He whirled around, ready to rage, his amber eyes flashing, but when he saw it was me, he stopped, stunned.
“Luisa,” he said. Just the sound of his voice made me realize that I hadn’t come to find him in a long time.
But I wasn’t there to make nice, not now. He might have been mad over some dumb mistake one of our men had made, but I was even more so.
“Why didn’t you tell me!?” I yelled at him, marching right over to the window.
He swallowed and took his time before he answered. “About what?”
I gestured to the room. “Everything. You already got the federale?”
He swallowed then raised his chin to look down on me. “What’s your point?”
“My point?” I repeated, flabbergasted. I could feel my throat getting thick, my face growing hot. I prayed I wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t be weak. “My point is … is … Javier, I’m sick and tired of you pushing me away like this. Not telling me anything. We used to be a team.”
His eyes didn’t change. His face became expressionless, like stone. “There was a place for that. Things are different now.”
“But I am still your wife!”