Corrupt - Elena M. Reyes Page 0,83
so much pain. I’m so sorry for what he did to you. What my father is trying to accomplish on the back of a lie to further his political career. I’m ashamed to be related to them and I promise to help your son, a man I love with all my heart, right this wrong.”
There are tears in their eyes and a soft smile on each face when I turn to leave again. Mom doesn’t say anything when we head toward the bathroom and enter, but I catch the look of pride on her face a second before it becomes utter horror.
“Hello, wife…daughter.” That voice sends a shudder down my spine. He sounds neutral and calm, but when I turn my head in his direction and take in my father standing a few feet from me, I see the hatred in his eyes. The ire exuding from his body infiltrates every inch of the small alcove that holds the women’s bathroom.
The door is but a few feet from us. The front entry is a quick run in the opposite direction, but the glint of metal at his hip and the two men that appear behind us destroy any notion of escape.
Matias Quintero is here to force us back home.
“No words for me?” He’s being condescending, and I know better than to speak. Instead, I send a silent prayer that somebody comes looking for us. That our guards outside stop him from whatever he has planned. “For your dear old father who’s been worried sick.”
“Matias, leave her alone. I’m the one—”
“Shut the fuck up before I strangle you and leave the body behind for your lover to find.”
“Lover? What are you—”
“Stupid is not a good color on the first lady.” Dad pulls something from his pocket, a bundle of pictures, and tosses them at her feet. Photos after photo of her laughing, smiling, touching Carlos’s arm while doing mundane things. They’re innocent, nothing sexual, but to him and his ego, they’re ridiculing him. “Look at the last one. That’s a personal favorite of mine.”
Mom bends down and with a shaky hand, picks up the photograph he’s talking about. A gasp leaves her, her frame shaking, and a sob of no passes through her trembling lips.
There’s no doubt that the man in the picture is Carlos, and it’s the SUV Alejandro rented for our excursion while here. The front window is blown out and the man slumping with a bullet hole to his chest is my guard of many years.
My tears flow and I bring a hand up to my mouth, horrified that he’d go this far. “Why?”
“Because that hijueputa made a deal with the devil, Solimar,” he growls out, taking the few steps between us and gripping my arm so tightly I know they’ll be bruises. Dad bends his head and puts us at eye level. His smirk can only be described as evil. “He betrayed me, kid. Just like your mother. Just like you.”
I swallow hard, my knees shaking. “Are you here to kill us?”
“That’s up to you.” Dad lets go of my arm and brings both hands to my shoulders, digging in his fingertips to the point of pain, and turns me around to face my scared mother. She’s crying and shaking—watching on helplessly with no idea how to react. “Come with me willingly, and I’ll let this puta walk out of here without repercussions. She can keep my son and I’ll even donate a few dollars a month for his expenses, but you will serve your purpose.”
“What purpose?” I ask brokenly, knowing I’ll do whatever is needed to keep my family safe.
“That’s something we’ll discuss at home.” He steps around me and holds a hand out. “Now, are you coming?”
“You’ll never come for them again?”
“You have my word.”
“And you’ll leave the Lucas family alone?”
“That’ll cost you a little extra, daughter of mine, but consider it done if you agree.”
A sob rips itself from my chest and I nod my head, placing my hand in his, and silently let him lead me out. I keep my head down and refuse to make eye contact with the whispering patrons all around us as we cross the front dining room and then exit the restaurant.
No words are said.
Not so much as a look, but when the door of the vehicle closes behind me and I turn to sit forward, there’s a prick in my arm and the world around me becomes hazy fast.
Everything blurs and voices meld together as a hand