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“We need to run,” I tell my mom and brother for the fifth time since we’ve gotten back to the house. “We can pack some essentials and go now; we’ll buy anything else we need on the road.”
Vicente turns on his heel. His eyes are wild but I can see the determination in them. “No, Vi. We are not going anywhere. Dad got himself into this shit—we did nothing wrong. Whatever happens to him tonight is on him. We’re not uprooting our lives because he fucked up.”
I lift my hands up and let them drop in exasperation. “You do realize that those men weremafiosos, no? What makes you think they’ll stop with Dad?”
My mother rocks back and forth in her seat, making Vicente give me a hard look. “Watch it, Vi.”
I sigh and lean down to her purse, taking her pill case out and pushing a Valium into her hand before grabbing a water from the kitchen.
“Take it, Mom. Everything is going to be alright,” Vicente says before he begins pacing the living room, stopping at the front window to look out at the dark street.
I roll my eyes, thinking sourly,Yeah, it sure looks like you believe your own words, bro.
“Let’s just think about it, huh? If Dad did something that ends up with him burning in a barrel—” My mother gasps, covering her mouth before jumping up and running from the room.
Oh freaking well.
I continue, “The cartel doesn’t do things halfway, Vin. If they eliminate Dad, they’re going to come for you because you know damn well Dad tells everyone who’ll listen that you’re following in his footsteps. Either that, or they’ll kill us for even seeing them.”
“They’re not cartel, Vi,” he says with a sigh, like I’m fucking stupid.
“Oh, so I guess we imagined the guns then.”
“They were bodyguards! Jesus, Vi.”
My teeth grind and my stomach churns with my anger, but I don't want to lash out at my brother. Fighting with him always hurts, but I also don’t want to be here while he stumbles around in his stupid reasoning.
I give up on trying to convince him we need to run and decide to spend the night out on the roads. Vicente will inevitably follow me—he always does—and if I’m right, if Banderas is a cartel man…well, at least me and my brother won’t be caught unaware in our home. I’m not worried about my mom, she’s so fragile that I doubt they’ll even bother with her.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I rush up the stairs, quickly changing into myWheelie Mafiacrop top sweater and gray joggers. I leave my hair as it is and pull on my riding boots before slamming my bedroom door shut and running back down to the living room.
Vicente sees me dressed to ride and quickly grabs his keys to follow, just like I knew he would. He drives us to the little storage unit I got under my name, neither of us saying a word about what happened back at the restaurant. That’s good for me; I want to get my head straight and to do that, it means no talking, just riding.
I unlock the rolling door and lift it quickly, eager to get on my bike and quiet my turbulent mind. Alvaro twisted something inside me, made me feel things I don’t like. Yes, he excited me, but for all the wrong reasons. I wanted to antagonize him, make him growl and yell. I wanted to see his perfect face warp in anger.
The menacing challenge he presented felt so wrong, yetsogood.
I roll my beautiful black and green ZX10 Kawasaki out of the unit, kicking the stand out so I can close the rolling door once more. Vicente has a white GSXR 1000. Using one of our father’s many credit cards, we gifted these to each other for Christmas one year and there hasn’t been another gift that could top them. Victor has yet to learn of the expense, but after what I witnessed at the restaurant, I doubt he’ll be around long enough to ever find out about it. I should feel bad about that, but I don’t. I’ve never been a daddy’s girl, but I’ve also never been close to Victor either. We’ve never seen eye-to-eye on anything. Though, he’d say differently, but that’s because I’ve always been good at playing the part of the dutiful daughter.
I don’t wish ill on Victor, but I can’t say I’ll spend my time worrying about him when he obviously didn’t worry about us while he did whatever it was he did to get him into this mess.
“Where are we headed?” I ask Vicente, trying to forget the events of the last hour.
“Bastian’s.” He names the gym he usually fights in while pulling on his helmet. “Last one there owes fifty bucks.”
“Route?” I ask, excitement pumping through my system as I clip my helmet strap.
“None.” He jumps on his bike and quickly starts it, hitting the throttle while I follow after him.
A smile spreads across my face as I take a sharp turn, loving the burn in my muscles as I hold myself tightly to the bike until I straighten out. Vicente takes a turn, tapping his helmet twice to let me know he sees a cop up ahead. I don’t follow him; I’m not interested in avoiding a good little speed race with a cop. I reach back and slap my license plate so it connects to the magnets under my seat, keeping the police from being able to find me after I’ve given them the slip.
I see the cop car sitting at a red light facing me and as I get closer, I slow to a crawl and rev the powerful engine at him. He doesn’t do anything, probably knowing that I’ll outrun him and a noise pollution ticket just isn’t worth the effort.
That won’t do.
I stop completely, flipping my visor up so he can see the smile in my eyes.
