On the fence at the entrance, where the guard house was, the gardener Carlos’s head was on a post. He had been decapitated, blood dripping from his severed neck, his once genial face frozen in fear, in anguish, a warning of all that would happen to me.
I could only watch as we passed by, my stomach sinking as six or seven men with AK’s swarmed the vehicle, following us down the driveway. When we came to a stop, Esteban opened his door, then reached across for me and grabbed me by the hair. I yelped as he dragged me out of the car, threw me down on the cement.
The ground cut my knees and elbows and I tried to get to my feet but Esteban kicked me squarely in the shoulder. Pain radiated from my bones as I fell backward to the ground.
“You’re home, Luisa,” Esteban sneered. I brushed my hair away from my face, feeling like a panicked, cornered animal as the men gathered around me, Esteban standing in the middle of them all and staring down at me with a look of such utter superiority it made me sick.
There was no way he could just take over the cartel like this, not with Javier in prison. My husband had far too many people loyal to him to let this happen.
Yet, as I looked around wildly I couldn’t see a single familiar face. Only Juanito and from his eager, completely unapologetic expression I knew he wasn’t the Juanito I’d known.
Everyone was a stranger and I was in a hell of a lot of trouble.
I didn’t know what to do or say. I tried to scramble to my feet but Esteban was quick and kicked out again, this time the tip of his shoe catching my chin. My jaw slammed together and more stars began to spin outward from my vision. Somehow I didn’t collapse to the ground, though blood immediately filled my mouth. I had a few seconds to make a decision as the men seemed to close in on me, Esteban laughing now, everything sounding like I was underwater.
I could plead for my life, for my place here. I could try and reason with Esteban.
Or I could fight.
The thing was, I knew either choice would end more or less the same way. And even though “more or less” sometimes meant the difference between life and death in our world, both options were bleak.
I chose to fight.
I got to my feet, unsteady and lilting to the right a little, but I did it. Holding my jaw, I raised my chin and look at Esteban right in the eyes.
“I am still queen,” I said, though it was more of a mumble, though moving my mouth made me nauseous. I said it as proudly as I could, looking at the depraved and ugly faces of the men around me. “And by law, this is my land, my home, and you are all still employees of my cartel.”
There was a pause before the men all glanced at each other and started laughing, as if it were the funniest thing they’d ever heard. So much machoism in this country, it didn’t matter if I was in power of a cartel or just a simple woman wanting a job. The men always treated you like a joke if you were anything more than a whore or a mother.
Esteban wasn’t laughing though. He was glaring at me as if he couldn’t believe I had the nerve to stand up to him. He didn’t want to hear the truth, that by my marriage to Javier, everything was really and truly all mine.
The truth hurt. And now I knew he was going to make me pay for it.
“Is that so?” Esteban finally said, unable to hide the irritation in his voice. “You must think you’re in the wrong country, hey. There are no laws here. You should know that more than any of us, beauty queen.” He eyed the men and jerked his chin at me. “Get her.”
My body turned on instinct and I immediately began running for the house, the front door just twenty feet away, but before I could, someone reached out and tackled me from behind, sending me flying into the gardenia that lined the edge of the wall.
I screamed but it was futile. Hands, so many hands, grabbing my body, pulling me up and then seeming to pull me apart.
One of the men, the biggest one, lifted me up by my throat, his fat, thick fingers pressing into my jaw. The pain was so intense, I prayed I’d pass out but I didn’t. By some sick, cruel world joke, I didn’t.
“We don’t bow to no queen,” the man said, his nose swollen with purplish veins, his breath so sour I could have gagged if I wasn’t being choked already. His grip tightened until I was sure my windpipe had been crushed in. Light danced before my eyes.
“Don’t kill her,” I heard Esteban calmly say in the background. “Just teach her a thing or two.”
The man grunted and then marched forward, still holding me by the throat, until I was up against one of the white pillars by the door. He banged my head against it, hard, the pain shooting down my spine, while my arms were pulled behind the pillar by someone else and handcuffs were place around my wrists. Two men grabbed a hold of my legs so I couldn’t move.