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He dips his head but when his eyes cast a glance at me, Romero pulls me closer. “Cuál es el problema?”
Javier speaks in fast Spanish. “I request to follow you, sir. I’ve gotten word from multiple sources that there’s a lot of movement in the north. A power struggle is happening there and I’m afraid it surrounds—”
“Me?” I question with a shiver when he cuts himself off, casting another glance in my direction.
Romero’s body tenses as his arm slides around my waist, pulling me closer to his side.
“It is only my guess that you are the reason for the current situation with the Banderas men,” he says before turning back to his boss, “but I would like to act with caution and keep guards with you at all times.”
Romero stares off, his eyes moving with the wave of thoughts crashing through his mind. Finally he gives a sharp nod and tugs me towards a supercar, but I’m not quite present as he helps me into the low seat, buckling me in and telling me all will be well.
How can it be when it’s me against the power and domination of this cartel world? I don’t know how to navigate it. I don’t know the rules of their games, yet here I am, a key player in it. The woman who unwittingly stands with one foot on each side.
Romero drives fast through the city, headed toward the mountains further south and out of reach of Alvaro and—
“My brother!” I gasp, turning in my seat and gripping Romero’s arm. “He’s in Banderas territory—he could be hurt or killed!”
He twists his arm out of my grip before lacing his fingers in mine.
“No,Diabla, Vicente is hidden in a safe house. Yes, it’s in Banderas territory, but Alvaro will not allow any harm to come to him. He’s trying to win your heart, remember? He knows he’ll lose you forever if anything were to happen to your brother.”
After hearing Romero’s story, I have no faith in Alvaro’s loyalty to me. After all, he was once loyal to Romero and look at what he did to him. I don’t trust him with anything or anyone precious to me.
When he sees that I'm unconvinced, he sighs. “I wanted it to be a surprise for you, but you’ll spend the day with your brother tomorrow. I’m taking you to the cabin where he will be staying.”
“Alvaro has agreed to this?” I ask with narrowed eyes, realizing sadly that I still don’t trust Romero either.
“Hewillagree to it. I called him earlier while he was on his balcony. Before we hung up, he asked me to bring you to the meeting and I agreed when he promised to bring Vicente.”
I shake my head as we begin driving through the mountains, the long curving road difficult to see in the night. Off to the right, I can make out the ocean as the moon reflects off the rolling waves.
“He won’t just let him go. He’s holding the trump card with my brother.”
When we turn into a long drive, I stare out at the overgrowth of vegetation. It’s so different here than it is in the city—I feel like I’m in the jungle now. We slow as we get closer to a large wooden wall on a metal frame. Romero presses a button on a fob key and the wall begins to slide to the right on a track I hadn’t seen at first. When there’s no longer a barrier blocking my view, my eyes widen at the building ahead of us.
Thecabinturns out to be much different than I had expected. Built on top of the mountain, the cabin looks more like a resort. One you’d see on the cover of a traveler's magazine. The large porch reaches from the left side of the massive house to the right, spanning about two hundred feet of open space.
As Romero climbs from the car and walks around to my side, I spot a lit walkway that curves around the side of the house and disappears in the growth of palm trees and foliage. There’s lantern lights hanging from palm tree to palm tree, criss-crossing above our heads. Romero opens my door and holds his hand out to me, helping me from the car as I continue to observe my new surroundings. This place looks like a fairytale inside cartel land.
I spot the patrolling guards who nod their heads to Romero, greeting him with respect as we pass them.
“I know you don’t trust me yet, Vicenta,” he tells me as we walk up the steps to the porch, “but I will earn it.”
I don’t acknowledge his words, I just turn around, pushing my hair from my face as I look back toward the entrance of the property, spotting the sea below us.
“I bet the view is amazing during the day.” I feel Romero staring at me rather than the ocean.
“The view is perfect at any time.”
I remind myself that he’s only pretending. He’s only playing his game, but my heart, as it turns out, doesn’t know how to differentiate between make believe and reality. Still, I can’t help but want to play along, to want to act as though this thing between us will last.
“Come,” he says, his fingers touching mine softly before tugging me into the house. “This place belonged to my mother. It was her safe haven when the city was too much for her.”
The inside of the house is as mammoth as I knew it would be. The large open space shows wealth and power. There’s a kitchen to my left, with a door that leads to what I assume is the pantry. To my right, there’s a bar with tons of liquor bottles lined up perfectly, some of the brands I recognize, while others look too expensive to even sip.
The rest of the space is a living room with three doors upstairs and a couple below.
The whole place has a tropical tiki feel to it, with white cloth and wicker furniture spread throughout the living space, the light stone floor and exposed dark wood beams above us bringing it all together perfectly.
