Despite my better judgement, I couldn’t help but be captivated by Evaristo Sanchez. Of course, it was my first time laying eyes on him in the flesh, and I knew there was a handsome man beneath the bruises and blood. Javier and Diego had really worked him over.
But he still had this quiet charm and tenacity you rarely found in these situations. When I first introduced myself, he looked at me through slits for eyes and said, “You must be an angel. I must be dead.”
I told him if I was an angel, I was a dirty one and he certainly wasn’t in heaven. He said he wasn’t in hell anymore, and we agreed he was in a kind of limbo, that though the torture was over, it didn’t change the fact that his back had been brutally burned and he was missing his pinky toe.
I had played nurse before so I did what I could without acting too squeamish about it. I anointed his wounds with antiseptic and wrapped his toe and foot. I gave him antibiotics that were always lying around, along with a small dose of morphine for the pain.
Evaristo didn’t do or say much else, but he watched me closely. There was a cot set up in the basement so Borrero and I helped him squeeze past the hot water heater and into the room.
“Your husband is an interesting man,” Evaristo said as he eased himself down onto the cot. His blue eyes were bloodshot and glazed from the drugs, and I knew he wasn’t feeling any agony at this point. I’m not sure if I’d be so stoic after a week-long torture session, especially if I didn’t have my toe by the end of it.
I also wouldn’t be using the word interesting to describe Javier.
I stared at him for a moment. “Interesting? You should be calling him a monster.”
“Oh, I’m sure I did for a moment there. But he can’t be so bad, if you’re married to him.”
That felt like a gut punch, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself, aware that Borrero was watching our exchange. “I’m not as good as you think,” I said quietly.
“No?” he asked. “And is your husband as bad as I think? As the world thinks? You survived Salvador Reyes before, didn’t you? I guess this is just a lesser of two evils.”
“It depends if you believe evil is absolute or not.”
“And do you believe that? You were raised Catholic, weren’t you?”
So many questions. So personal. I straightened up, not wanting to get into religious beliefs with him. I didn’t want to think God had been looking over my shoulder for the past week, watching me commit sin after sin.
And in some ways, loving it.
In some ways, hating myself even more.
The way Javier kissed me today … I didn’t know what to do. It was so unexpected. It bruised my heart and soul and left me reeling, aching. Because he was giving me what I’d been craving, what I’d been looking for in Esteban.
And in that kiss, I realized the horror of what I had done.
Yes, I also knew the horror of what he had done. The women he’d been with. The innocent lives he’d taken. But even though I wasn’t willing to forgive him, I could at least understand what was happening to him.
I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. I had sex with Esteban over and over again while my husband was down here, torturing this poor man for information.
We were both so fucking dirty.
And today, today was the first I’d seen Javier try and pick himself up out of it. He hadn’t killed Evaristo. He was letting him walk when any other patron would have offed him. And he had reached out to me. Kissed me. Made me feel useful for once, even if it was just to come down here and take care of a tortured man.
I wanted Javier to try again. To keep trying.
I wanted to forget all the bad that I had done. I wanted to remove it from my heart.
“Are you crying?” Evaristo asked.
I ran my fingers under my eyes and saw that I was. Borrero stepped away from the wall, concerned, but I just waved him off. “Oh, I guess it’s the air here. So dry.”
Evaristo nodded though I knew he didn’t believe me.
“I’d say you could do better than him,” he said softly. “But that’s none of my business, what goes into a marriage. Or a business. Just tell me … do you believe in him?”
He watched me with open curiosity.
“Do I believe in him?”
“Yes. Do you think he’ll take over the Tijuana cartel and then proceed to take over whatever is left?”
“Javier is very ambitious,” I stated.
“I’m not talking ambition. I know he’s ambitious. Everyone in the world knows that. Do you think he — you all — will succeed in the end? That you will rule absolute. Does he have what it takes to take this as far as it can go?”
“Yes,” I said, without hesitating. “Unless he gets killed, I think he will go as far as he possibly can.”
He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Then there isn’t much the federales can do to stop him. Except kill him.”