Well, there were some things. But I didn’t want to think about those, even though I knew where he was going after the torture was over and the last drop of blood was spilled.
I carefully made my way past the lotuses, pausing to admire the elegance they granted such a brutal place, and headed toward the back of the pond where the reeds and palms grew thick. Behind them I was pretty much unnoticeable to the entire compound, a place that was nothing short of a palace, a place that had become my home for the last year and a half. But sometimes I still thought of it as less than a castle and more like a prison. After all, I was brought here as a captive and some memories were hard to forget, no matter how badly I tried to find my footing and rise above it.
A few weeks ago I took a bucket from the gardener’s shed and brought it over, flipping it upside down to make a seat. I knew it was silly — I could have had custom made chairs or an outdoor sofa if I wanted. I could have had anything. But I wanted something that was mine and mine alone. A secret. I liked sitting here in the evenings, feeling totally protected from the watchful eyes of my husband, of his right-hand man Esteban, of the lackey Juanito, of anyone who worked for our cartel. By the time I finished a bottle of California pinot noir, I felt like another person in another land. These were the little things in my life that I clung to now.
I sat down on the bucket and took a long swig of wine. Javier got cases of it imported just for me, after I once remarked that I liked it. That was a few months ago, before his sister died and everything changed. Back then, I was Javier’s queen. Now I didn’t even know who I was. But I knew I didn’t like her.
I was scared of myself.
I stayed hidden in my spot until the wine was almost gone and the sun was sinking below the hills to the west. The air was still hot, muggy, like breathing in through a wet cloth. Though I’d gotten used to the smell of blood, I hadn’t gotten used to the humidity around Sinaloa. Especially where our compound was, nestled deep in a valley along the Devil’s Backbone. Javier liked the cover our location provided – the landscaping blended the house seamlessly into the jungle, but it also trapped the heat and added to the feeling of being closed in. Sometimes I woke up thinking I couldn’t breathe, nightmares of suffocation bleeding into reality.
During those times, I’d sit up in bed, breathing hard and covered in sweat. Javier would reach for me, seemingly half asleep, and just hold my hand for a moment. Then he would pull me toward him and I’d be lulled to sleep in his arms. Sometimes he would brush the hair off my face and those burning eyes of his would light me on fire. We’d make love and make promises.
It had been like that for a while – his comfort, his presence … he never denied me anything. I knew I wouldn’t be accepted into his life so quickly, not by the members of his cartel. I’d gone from captor to lover in a short amount of time, and then from lover to wife soon after that. But he stood by me, ever so proud. He wouldn’t change his mind about me and my place in his life, and he’d slaughter anyone who dared to throw an unkind word my way.
For all his cunning ambition and ruthless ways, Javier Bernal really did love me. He was devoted and as much mine as I was his.
All those promises.
“Luisa.” A voice drifted over the brush, causing me to freeze.
Esteban came around the corner and gave me a lopsided smile.
“Here you are,” he said lazily.
I took my hand away from my chest, my heart beating like a drum, and looked down at the empty bottle in my hands. I felt utterly stupid, which was probably silly in itself considering this was my property and I could do whatever the damn well I wanted.
I also felt acutely disappointed that there really was no safe place left.
I cleared my throat and sat up straighter, even though looking regal was impossible when you were sitting on top of a damn bucket.
“You found me,” I said.
He folded his arms and peered down at me. “Dipping into the pinot again?”
I glared at him. “What’s your point?”
He shrugged. “No point. I was looking for you though.”
“Why?”
“Do I need a reason?”