We waved back at them.
King and queen.
EPILOGUE
Javier
“I’ve decided on a name,” I said, walking out to the balcony where I knew Luisa was relaxing.
She was lying down on the chaise, reading a spy thriller, which she then lay down on her chest and turned to face me. She peered over her large sunglasses expectantly.
“Oh?” she said, amused. We’d been doing this for a few weeks now and every time she had a name, I disagreed and every time I had a one, she’d do the same. Normally a game like that would drive me insane with impatience, but this was actually somewhat fun.
“Yes,” I said coming over to the railing and leaning against it. The Pacific crashed just a few a feet from the house, though the surf wasn’t as angry today and all the surfers who bobbed in the distance were looking disappointed. I relished the fact that Esteban would have been rolling in his grave had he known Luisa and I would end up by all his favorite surf spots. I even considered taking up the sport out of spite, but the idea of all that salt water drying up my hair was too off-putting. Besides, Esteban was deader than dead and the two of us were very much alive.
Two, plus one on the way.
“Well, what is it?” she prodded, running her hands over her stomach. It was absolutely huge now. It made her look monstrous, which I’d found wildly attractive for some reason. Six weeks to go and our son would be born.
Son.
Some days I couldn’t even fathom it. Couldn’t even wrap my head around it. But it’s what we needed, not just for us, for our marriage and our souls, but for the business. The moment I found out Luisa was pregnant with my child (and yes, I made sure it was in fact my child) I was over the moon with fear and relief, the two feelings in a constant battle. Fear that I would fuck things up as I had been known to do with every human being I’d ever come into contact with. Relief that finally I had an heir to take over the cartel. My blood. Someone I could truly trust, someone that I would raise to be just like me.
I mean, why not? Another version of myself couldn’t hurt. He’d be wicked, intelligent, unapologetic, handsome, and if he were really lucky, taller than I was.
Up until now though, we couldn’t decide on a damn name. If it had been a girl, I would have honored Alana by bestowing her with that name. But the sonogram proved it was a boy and for that I was grateful.
I was certain we’d have a brood of kids in the future regardless, and if we had a girl, she’d need an older brother not only to protect her, but to look up to. Sure there was risk in having a family. I knew that for a man in my position having loved ones increased the chances of loss and pain. But it didn’t matter anymore. It would be worth it. It already was.
I came beside Luisa and put my hands on her stomach, gently tracing over the side where the acid burn still remained, albeit fading away. “He’s Vincente,” I told her. “Vincente Bernal.”
“Vincente,” she repeated. “Vincente Bernal.” She smiled. “I like it. No, I love it. Does it mean anything to you?”
I shook my head. It didn’t mean anything. It just came to me that morning. “It just means our son.”
I leaned forward and kissed her, putting my hands into her hair, which was now chin length and glossy black. Her scars on her face were fading and barely visible when she covered them with makeup, but I still liked her bare-skinned. She looked more like a warrior that way. She looked more like Mrs. Bernal.
“Ahem.” I heard Diego’s voice.
I pulled away from Luisa to see him standing by the French doors.
“You and your timing,” I said to him.
He gave me a vaguely apologetic look. “Sorry, patron. Luisa. I just wanted to make sure that everything was on for tomorrow, for the meeting.”
I nodded and waved him away with my hand. “It’s fine. Go and enjoy the beach or something.”
“Yes sir,” he said, even though I knew he was going right back inside to guard our bedroom door.
Luisa tugged on my arm. “I wish you didn’t have to go to Tijuana.”
“It’s just for the night,” I told her. It had taken a while, but a few months ago we were finally able to kill Angel Hernandez, the leader of the Tijuana Cartel, and I’d promptly taken over the plaza.