father was Federal en Mexico. Their home was invaded by the Jalisco cartel. They made Matteo, here, watch as they bisected his father in front of him. Only ten years old, when it happened.”
Fucking hell. I’ve seen gruesome things before, but nothing quite like the passion kills carried out by the cartel.
The intensity in the man’s eyes as he stares back at me tells me he understands what we’re talking about.
“That’s too bad. Jaliscos are dirty chupapollas.” For an exceptionally long minute, I’m left wondering if my comment was received as intended. “Cocksuckers.”
A slight smile cracks Matteo’s pissed off stare, and in the next second, all three men are laughing.
“Si! Jaliscos are dirty cocksuckers!”
As the laughter dies down, Julio pushes up from his chair and knocks his knuckles on the desktop. “Check this place for me. And keep me informed.”
“Of course.”
The moment he’s out of my office, I polish off the rest of my drink and rub a hand down my face. Whenever I’ve become too comfortable in this position, Julio is always there to remind me how quickly things can nosedive. Much as I strive for a little independence, the truth is, I was designed for one thing: to kill when commanded. I’ve known this since I was just a boy.
And I suspect this little errand he has me running will eventually become the next hit.
18
Céleste
“Wake up, sunshine.” A soft southern accent rouses me out of dreams, and I open my eyes to darkness. Twisting to my side, I blindly pat for the lantern and click the light on. Between rubbing the sleep from my eyes and staring hard to focus, objects slowly come into view in my periphery--the broken couch, and the vandalized grandfather clock that’s missing all of its metal pieces, against the wall in the corner. The chair with its torn upholstery. Opposite to the clock sits a shadowy figure, rocking back and forth to a creaking metronome.
“Wake up,” the voice says with an unsettling trill.
Confused, I sit up from my sleeping bag, rubbing my eyes again.
Must be after midnight, judging by the position of the moon through the window, which means I’ve only been sleeping a couple of short hours. Still in a fog, I narrow my gaze on the figure in the corner, only the edges of it outlined by the silvery beams of light, telling me it’s a person.
Still groggy, and not entirely awake, I can’t summon the panic I know I should be feeling on finding someone in the house. “Who …. What are you doing?”
“Your daddy’s looking for you, baby. Best go find him.”
I recognize that voice, the sound like a soft, fuzzy blanket. “Maw Maw Day?”
“He told me to fetch you. I know you an’ Brie been playin’ in those trees again, ain’t you?”
Must be dreaming. Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head, and the creaking stops.
I open them again to find her shadowy form hunched forward. “Go on now. Go find your daddy.”
Hairs on the back of my neck stand, as I reach for the lantern without looking and raise it up. The light glides over the shadows, revealing a blue button-down shirt with lace collar, beneath the knitted, white shawl she always wore. I lift it higher.
Higher.
The light hits her face.
I gasp and kick myself away.
Milky white eyes stare off at something beyond me. A deep groove, etched along the edge of her throat and up across her jaw and ear, marks the brutal path of a weapon. She sits back into the darkness, out of the light once more. “Don’t mind my face, baby. Now, go on. He’s waiting.”
The creeping sensation of familiarity brushes over my skin, as unbidden voices in my head take me back to a time I can’t even remember.
“Tell us a story, Maw Maw Day. Not a baby story. A scary one.”
“A scary one, huh? You think dat’s a good idea, when you and your daddy are alone in this big house?”
“Yes. Please. I’m not scared. I promise.”
“Mmmm. I dunno, Cee-Cee. Your daddy told me different.”
“What’d he tell you, Maw-Maw? ‘Cause whatever it was, it’s not true!”
“Settle down, child, I’m just playing wit’ you.”
“I’m not afraid of nothing. No-thing. I even watch scary movies.”
“What scary movies you watched?”
“Casper the Friendly Ghost. And GhostBusters. All kinds.”
“Those are scary, for sure. But nothing like what I’m about to tell you.”
“Tell us, Mamere,” Brie begs along with me. “I want to hear it, too.”
“The story I have in mind is one my mother used to