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I look back at my sleeping son. It feels like I am busy, but I know that I’m not. I can work. I need to work. “What do you have?”
“There’s a local leader that wants to meet with you. He’s community head of the Versalles district, very influential. A partnership would be good for the both of you.”
My eyes won’t leave Oscar’s crib. There isn’t anywhere else I want to be right now but by his side. “Give me his number, I’ll call him.” I can still work without leaving.
“It’s better if you meet him in person,” Juan insists.
I flex my sore fists. Sure, Oscar is sleeping; he wouldn’t miss me if I went out for a quick meeting, but I also desperately want to be here when he wakes up. “Can it wait?”
“... He says he has information on Catalina’s whereabouts.” Juan’s words snap me back to reality.
Mama.
“And you trust him?”
“I verified his inside source. It’s legit. He’s very useful, Angel. Not even I knew where Catalina was before this guy came to me.”
Oscar gurgles in his sleep and a heavy sigh escapes my lips. If I’m ever going to give him the life he deserves, I need to do what needs to be done. “Do you know where Cat is now, then?”
“I knew where she was a few hours ago, but she’s probably long gone by now. More importantly, though, is that this new source claims to know where and when Dante’s wedding will be taking place.”
“Fuck.” A tightness grips my chest. The thought of Dante getting his slimy hands on Catalina in a wedding dress makes me go nearly blind with envious rage. She’s supposed to be mine; I was supposed to marry her, even if it was all fake...
None of our feelings are fake anymore. Plus, we have a son.
“They didn’t tell you?” I grumble into the speaker.
“No, they wanted to meet you first—so, what do you say?”
I take one last look over at my baby boy before I rip my eyes away. “Where and when?”
Wilmar Fabros sits on his shanty throne like the king of a garbage dump. His entire house seems stitched together from junk he found on the side of the road, but he owns it proudly and I can’t help but immediately respect a man who’s made so much out of so little.
“Angel Montoya,” he says, almost like he’s thinking out loud, rather than greeting me.
“Wilmar Fabros,” I return. This guy is Juan’s inside source; even though I know I should, there isn’t any patience in me to make pleasantries. Cat’s still a hostage, and every second I waste puts her in more danger. Oscar distracted me from my mission to save her, but now that I’m far away from him again, I can see clearly. If I’m ever going to get his mom back, he’s going to have to stay in the shadows, even when I’m out in the sunlight. “I heard you know where my wife is.”
Wilmar studies me with wise, wrinkled eyes. Nothing he does is done in a hurry, and he slowly rises from his makeshift throne like a skinny leaf floating down from its branch. “I know no such thing,” he croaks. “I do, however, know where that devil Dante’s future wife is going to be tomorrow.”
My fists clench. The skin around my hands is still slightly crispy, but I’ve peeled away most of the pain. The fire that burns me comes from the inside now. “Where?” I growl.
Wilmar saunters up to me, un
afraid. “Do you think your little revolution will succeed?” he asks, ignoring my question.
I hold back my sneer and amuse him for a moment. If there is one thing I learned from all my otherwise useless board meetings and business calls, it’s that the older the man, the longer the detour... but also, the bigger the potential payout.
Wilmar can provide me two massive payouts. First, and most important, he can apparently tell me where Catalina will be wed—he’s already told me when, though I’m sure that was more a show of his knowledge than an accidental slip. Two, he can help me recruit revolutionaries. His district has the second biggest population in Cali, and by far the most men of fighting age. According to Dante, everyone in the Versalles district would die for this man—so, I’m assuming he can convince them to fight for me.
“We will win.” I answer.
Wilmar smiles. “Yes. That’s a good start. We will win. Not you, but we. I like the sound of that.”
I feel my brows furrow. “Did you believe that I had selfish intentions?”
Wilmar clears his throat and seems to consider his next words carefully. “I know who you are, Angel Montoya. Others may only know you as a mysterious savior, but I remember your name from when you were the devil himself.”
My nails dig into my palms. “I’ve changed.”
