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Maria wanted to be watching Teag’s six every minute of the day and night, but her plan to access Esteban del Fuego had the potential to be more productive. She had to try something before Teag had a giant target on his back if it wasn’t there already.
She left Teag sleeping in his new room, with Tank and Jennings prowling just outside the door on high alert and returned to the hotel room to change. She’d fit into her old neighborhood better wearing ripped jeans and a tank top rather than the navy-blue suit she currently sported. After securing her small Sig P365 into its ankle holster, Maria left the swanky downtown hotel for a slightly different part of town. She opted to park the rental safely in a paid lot and walk the five blocks to her destination.
As soon as he’d heard the del Fuego name, Jake had done his homework on the cartel. He’d delivered a comprehensive file on the del Fuegos, from their real estate holdings to their car registrations to a detailed family tree. While Esteban del Fuego, his wife, and several members of his extended family lived in a McMansion on South Beach, his business supplied most of the meth, cocaine, and fentanyl from South Coconut Grove into Allapattah, Wynwood, and Maria’s former home, Little Havana.
When she walked into the bodega on Calle Ocho, memories bombarded her. Her abuela often sent teenage Maria shopping there on Saturdays to buy ingredients for the family’s mandatory Sunday dinner. She and her brothers may have complained, but they’d never dream of missing. Truthfully, they’d all appreciated it.
With only a little over a year between each of the three siblings, Maria’s mother had counted on her own mother to help raise them. Her dad had worked on a fishing trawler, so he was gone for long stretches of time—until one day he’d never returned at all. Her brothers took his loss the hardest, one turning to drugs and the other to a local street gang. When things finally came to a head, with Maria in the very thick of it, it was their abuela who took a stand, calling on a police chief friend of hers to help her march the boys straight into a recruiter’s office. Their choice: get clean and join the Army or go to jail. They’d both chosen wisely.
Emilio had stayed in, working his way up the enlisted ranks and marrying a young woman he met while stationed in Germany. They were expecting their first baby in a couple of months. Paulo used the Army to get his degree in engineering and now worked in the private sector. He’d gotten married, moved to North Carolina, and given Maria three nieces and a nephew. Maria’s mother lived with them in an in-law apartment, helping with the kids and volunteering at the local library. She never missed a chance to pester Maria about producing her share of grandchildren.
The smell of cooked peppers, onions, and some kind of meat made Maria’s mouth water as she made her way to the check-out counter, bottle of water in hand. When the older woman at the cash register looked up, her eyes widened, and she clapped her hands.
“Maria Teresa, is that you? It can’t be!” she exclaimed, charging out from behind the counter to throw her arms around Maria.
Maria laughed and hugged the enthusiastic woman. “Señora Alma, how are you?”
“Oh, my sweet Maria, this old lady is just fine. What about you? Are you still in the service? How are your brothers, those big lugs?” she asked, when they finally separated.
Maria spent a few minutes updating the shopkeeper on herself and her family, even pulling out her phone to show off Paulo’s kids. Alma clucked and squealed. “Niños bonitos! Your brother, he’s a good-looking one, so of course his babies are too!”
“Don’t tell him that. It’ll go to his head,” Maria teased.
“Listen, Maria, I never got to offer my condolences about Carmelita. You were here and gone so fast.” The woman shook her head, patting Maria on the arm.
“Don’t even think about it. I only had enough emergency leave to come to the funeral. I didn’t get to see everyone.” Maria had been devastated when her grandmother passed. On active duty at the time, but thankfully not deployed, she’d been able to make it home briefly.
“Lovely woman, Carmelita. She knew how to handle those brothers of yours.”
“Yes, she did,” Maria agreed, laughing.
Alma nodded and then her expression turned more serious. “What brings you back here, carina?”
Maria casually glanced around the busy market. “Does Tommy still work here?”
Alma shook her head. “No, no. He runs the garage on 5th now. Why are you looking for him? He’s not in trouble, is he?”
“No, nothing like that. I just think he can help me with something is all.”
“Hmmm,” Alma muttered suspiciously, but she didn’t press.
“It was great to see you. I’d like to buy this water and a couple of empanadas if I could? Best in the neighborhood, if I remember correctly.”
“That’s right,” Alma said smiling. She made her way behind the prepared food counter and stuffed two large empanadas into a brown paper bag.
Maria fished her wallet out of the small purse slung over her shoulder.
“Your money is no good here. Eat up. You’re looking too skinny,” Alma teased, shoving the bag into Maria’s hands.
“Thank you, Alma. Give my love to your family.”
Maria stepped out into the hot summer afternoon and pressed the cool bottle of water against her cheek, then peeled open the paper bag and took a huge bite of the steaming empanada. Groaning with pleasure, she ate as she walked.
Tito’s garage, where her brother’s former best friend worked, was only a few blocks away. Maria found it without difficulty. She strolled in through the customer service entrance and approached the desk. A gum popping twenty-something sat at the computer monitor, clacking away at the keys with long, red, lacquered nails, wearing a name tag identifying her as Candy. Could be a stripper name, Maria thought snidely.
“Can I help you?” Candy asked, her bored gaze sweeping up to Maria’s face.
“Tommy here?” Maria asked.
