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“Is this the route you want to go with me?” Standing from my seat, I tap the wood twice and the man to my left walks to a secret door no one but those at the highest level of intelligence know about. It’s an exit made for the first family and the leeches who kiss their asses to escape through in case of a coup or assassination attempt.
Israel is on the other side of that door and the wooden box, half the size of a normal casket, is wheeled inside. It’s plain white and has a few holes dotted in red where blood has begun to seep through.
“What’s the meaning of this? How did you—”
“You have seventy-two hours to step down or bend the knee for the De Leon family, Mr. President. Seventy-two, and not a minute more.” The lid is removed and inside, you can tell there’s a male body about the age of Dalian. “And this is my gift to you. Henry Davila was Dalian’s close friend and the snitch that told me where to find him when I pointed a gun at his head. You can burn him or pretend it’s Dalian while having a fake service to mourn another life lost because of your idiocy and greed. Whatever you decide is on you, Placido, but remember one thing: I’m everywhere. I see everything.”
“I won’t let this go.” Voice hoarse, he stands and leans over the table with both fists holding his weight. “What you’ve done—”
“Your call, and I could give a single fuck either way. Bend or die, it’s up to you.” Going around to his side, I place a hand on his arm and squeeze. “My deepest condolences. It didn’t have to be this way, but the clock is ticking nonetheless. Make the right decision, Rodriguez. Don’t be the reason your entire family dies at my hand. Take this as advice; I’m not the bad guy here.”
I leave him to think and consider his options, then walk out of the room and the building without anyone asking questions or attempting to stop us. To be honest, everything was too smooth and when I get back to my chauffeur on the island, a sinking feeling hit.
He’s worried. Wringing his hands together, but before I can ask, he tosses the cell phone I’d left inside the car at me. “Your father called me after you didn’t respond. Says it’s urgent and has to do with Miss Amberlyn Ibarra.”
“What do you mean, you let her walk out the house?”
“Son, it’s my fault. This is on me,” Dad says, rubbing a hand down his face the same way I do when frustrated. “We thought she knew. That you told her, and she was just playing along to help Davila’s sister hang herself. Even after she left, at first we thought it was her playing a part, until your mother called and found herself blocked.”
“But Amberlyn doesn’t know. I told you she isn’t to be touched by my—”
“Papito, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt her.” The FaceTime call freezes momentarily, and Mom’s blotchy face makes the situation worse. My ire cannot be contained; I’m shaking and what’s worse, Amberlyn won’t respond to any of my texts. I’ve been trying to get ahold of her since the plane took off, begging for her to reach out, but nada. Is this what she feels when I’ve ignored her in the past?
I’m an asshole for it. Deserve to feel the worry clawing at my skin because there are still risks I can’t control.
A car accident.
Wrong place and time incident.
Fuck, even lighting strikes in Miami aren’t that uncommon.
“This is beyond fucked up.” Exhaling roughly, I type out another message to her and then one to Junior, the latter of which responding right away.
I have Karen and should be in Cuba by tonight. Am I heading to Havana or the compound? ~Junior.
Neither. Stay in Miami. I’m on my way back. ~Ivan
Three dots appear on the screen. Then the phone pings.
Is everything okay? What do you need me to do, boss? ~Junior
Try to find Amberlyn. No one knows where she is. ~ Ivan
His reply comes in just as fast.
I’ll start searching now. Karen will be kept at my apartment; she won’t run. ~Junior
Thank you. I’ll call when I land. ~Ivan
The screen of my laptop unscrambles and my parents are there, still wearing upset expressions.
“My sirenita thinks I’m sleeping with and keeping a woman at your home? Do you realize how bad that makes me look?”
“I’ve never seen her so upset, Ivan. But again, we thought she was just playing along. We would’ve never let her go intentionally thinking that.”
“Mom, to be honest…I don’t know what to say right now. All I know is I need to find her.”
“We fucked up, kid,” Mom says and sniffs; she’s been crying. Her face is blotchy while Dad looks miserable. “It all happened so fast, and I went along thinking nothing of it. I really thought she knew, yet her expression before running out is something I can’t get out of my head. Baby, it’s like she expected this and at the same time accepted it.”
