Chapter Twenty - Maddie
What a way to spend Christmas Eve. I mean really. You’d think God would cut me a break or something.
The drive is pure torture. I’m talking I’d rather strip for the devil in eternal damnation than spend one more goddamned minute listening to Carlos whisper his grand plans for our future together in my ear.
I want to throw up.
And we’re on the run from… whatever he thinks we’re on the run from. But all he keeps talking about is us. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
I’m freezing, hungry, and there’s a cramp in my leg that’s been burning for hours. And no matter how I try to change positions, I can’t make it go away. Plus, every time I move to try and get more comfortable, Carlos’s hands are there, pulling my body back next to his.
I can’t deny needing his body heat. It’s been hot as hell out, and I’m sure it still is, but I can’t feel it. I feel the cold. Maybe it’s fear and I don’t know it. Or maybe it’s that I’m wearing an outfit that’s nothing but strings and strips of fabric.
I’ve had enough. Several hours ago.
Finally, well after dark, the engine finally cuts off and there’s the sound of many sets of feet as they rush over to the truck. The tarp is pulled back to reveal a perfectly dark, starlit night above my head. I squint up at it as Logan helps Carlos out of the bed. Then Ricky has my arm, pulling on me to follow.
“Where are we?” I ask Ricky. But he says nothing, just hands me off to Carlos, who takes my arm and begins walking towards a… house? Mansion? Hotel? I plant my feet, making Carlos stop, and say, “Where the fuck are we?” Only this time, it’s loud. And ragey. Because I’ve had enough. I need some fucking reality right now.
“You don’t need to worry about where we are—” Logan starts.
But Carlos cuts him off with one raised hand. “We’re home. I don’t normally spend a lot of time here. I prefer the open desert. I’ve had a deal with the Federales. I stay out of Ensenada, they let me live in peace.” He stares down at me, his dark eyes suddenly blazing with anger. “But they broke our deal today.”
And that’s when something explodes outside the compound.
Men start shouting in Spanish. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, in my sight has a gun out. Half a dozen armed men are rushing towards the front gates.
Carlos points to Logan and says, “Llévala a mis apartamentos. Now!”
Logan grabs my arm—not roughly, but not gently either—and starts pulling me away.
“Wait!” I say, resisting. “Where will you be?” I’m happy to be out of that truck and I’m delighted that Carlos is no longer touching me… but Logan. I do not want to be alone with Logan. I’m the reason his face looks like pulp today.
“I have work to do,” Carlos snaps back. Like I’m sorta stupid if I can’t figure out that an explosion outside his safe house trumps my needs. “We’ll have dinner soon. Take a bath and dress so you’re ready when I call for you.” Dinner? A bath? What the fuck?
And then Logan stops pretending to be gentle and yanks on my arm. I look back over my shoulder to see if Carlos caught that, but he’s already walking away, talking in hushed whispers to other men as a stream of black smoke fills the air above the concrete block walls around this new compound.
The only good news is that Ricky follows Logan. That is my first lucky break today. He stays well behind us, but at least he’s nearby. I need to get him alone. I need to know what the hell is happening. I need to know if that really was Tyler flying my drone and I need to make sure he’s OK. I mean, I know it was Tyler. I’ve seen his drone moves. And then the memory of our date night out at the Hoover Dam comes to mind and I smile.
“What the fuck are you smiling at?” Logan barks, pulling hard on my arm again.
“Your uncle,” I say, letting him pull me along the outside of the—house? Mansion? Hotel? It’s huge, just like the compound. But this new place is very different than the last one. It looks and feels more like a small town than a residence.
“Why is this place so big?” I ask, trying to take it all in. It’s pretty dark, but there’s lots street lamps as Logan drags me down a sidewalk towards a group of buildings away from the main one where we parked.
“Because,” Logan says. “My uncle needs to keep our smugglers happy and close to work. And this place is how he does that.”
“Oh,” I say. Good to know, Logan. Thank you very much for the first real piece of intel all day!
But Logan stops abruptly and tightens his grip on my arm. Squeezes it hard enough for me to feel a bruise forming in real time.
“What are you doing?”
“You speak Spanish?” he growls.
And that’s when I realize Logan just made that impromptu confession in Spanish, not English. And I just gave myself away. Not that I was hiding the fact that I understood them or anything. But I certainly never let on that I understood to anyone but Ricky. And he’s on my side, so…
“Everyone speaks Spanish,” I snap, trying to pull out of his grip.
But he holds tight, his fingernails digging into my flesh. “Does my uncle know this?”
“Know what?”
“That you’re spying on him?”
“I’m not fucking spying on him, you idiot. Like I said, everyone knows Spanish.”
But Logan grins. It looks painful too. His left eye is swollen completely shut now. So it’s more like a sinister wink than a smile. But it gets the job done. Because my stomach flips with fear.
“Oye, vamos,” Ricky says, coming up behind us. “Es Nochebuena y quiero llamar a mi novia antes de ir a la cama.”
I stare at Logan, not even daring to look at Ricky, even though I want nothing more than to see his familiar face and know that he’s got my back. Because I think I might’ve really fucked things up here.
“What did he say?” Logan asks, nodding his head to Ricky.
I shrug. “I dunno. Something about calling his friend before bed.”
Logan glares at me. “Mentira pequeña perra.”
I force myself to laugh. “Now that, I understood. And I’m going to tell your uncle you just called me a lying little bitch.”
“Go ahead,” Logan says, pulling me along the sidewalk again.
We walk past what looks to be a private gas station where dozens of trucks are lined up for fuel. I bet this really is the staging point for Carlos Castillo’s drug-running route. I mean, it sure looks the part. And it’s all hidden behind massive concrete block walls. In fact, now that I look around a little, I notice a lot more too. Dozens of people. All rushing around looking very fucking busy. And it’s Christmas Eve. Maybe this is like the biggest night of the drug-running year? Like… all the US border agents are busy being festive and shit, so no one’s minding the store.
“Tell him, puta,” Logan growls. “He’s gonna be very interested in your new skillset as a translator.”
You better up your game, Angel says, popping up on my shoulder. Because shit is getting real. This is the major league, Scarlett. Not schoolyard kickball.
It suddenly pisses me off that she’s referring to me as Scarlett. Because Scarlett has retired and fuck Angel for bringing her back from the dead. I’m goddamned Maddie Clayton now and forever.
But I don’t have time to respond to her. Not when I need to respond to Logan. Because she’s right. He’s out to get me. If I fail and get myself killed for being a DEA informant, it’ll be because Logan turns Carlos against me.
So I swing for the fuckin’ bleachers and say, “And I’ll tell him you slipped up and sold him out. Told me all about his business. And we all know what he does to people who disobey him, right? I can only imagine what he does to traitors. So you better be very careful about spreading rumors. Your uncle loves me. He wants to marry me. Wants me to have his babies. And I love him back just as much. I can’t wait to give him sons. Sons who will one day take over his business.” I have to choke that last part out. But I do it. Because a guy like Logan wouldn’t put up with the abuse Carlos hands out if he didn’t think he was gonna get something big in the end.
“Puta,” he spits.
“Hijo de mil putas,” I spit back.
“OK, OK,” Ricky says, coming between us. “Vamos a dejarla, Logan. Tenemos trabajo para hacer esta noche.”
“Yeah, vamos, Logan. You’ve got work to do. Don’t want to piss your uncle off again. You don’t have another eye to spare.”
“Cállate, perra!” Ricky shouts. It’s so loud I startle backwards.
“Fuck you!” I yell back. “Fuck both of you!”
Ricky takes my arm and drags me away, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll handle this whore. Meet me at the house.” Except he says all that in Spanish.
I don’t look to see if Logan follows us or not, but he must take off and leave me to Ricky, because a few seconds later Ricky leans into my ear and says, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” in English.
“Fuck that asshole. I’m not gonna let him get me killed, OK?”
“You’re doing a very good job of that yourself. Just shut your fucking mouth for once and let things go!” He whisper-shouts that last part.
“He called me a slut,” I seethe.
“And you called him the son of a thousand whores. Nice way to escalate a battle you can’t win.”
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask. “Where the fuck is Tyler?”
“I thought that was him I saw. Son of a bitch. I can only hope he’s still back in Mexicali, where he was not supposed to be in the first place. Fuckin’ asshole. The two of you are an undercover agent’s nightmare, you know that? This whole thing is FUBAR. I’m getting you out of here tonight, you understand?” And then he takes my hand and slips something into it.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“It’ll knock Carlos out cold. Slip it into his drink at dinner and be ready for evacuation at three AM, got it?”
“Oh, OK. Fuckin’ James Bond,” I say.
“Don’t screw with me, Maddie. Just do it.”
“Fuck that!” I say. And now I’m the one whisper-yelling. “I didn’t just spend most of a day pressed up against his disgusting body listening to him daydream about all the babies I’m gonna give him for nothing! I’m not leaving until he’s dead.”
Ricky’s lips tighten, but he doesn’t say anything else. Just keeps me moving along. We finally make our way to Carlos’ apartments and stop in front of a large double door guarded by two gigantic men with assault rifles at the ready.
Ricky says, “She’s to stay inside and not leave, understand?” in Spanish.
They nod their affirmation, and Ricky opens the door, shoving me inside so hard, I fall to my knees on the floor. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut and do as you’re told.” Again, in Spanish.
I’m about to tell him where he can stick his orders, but he slams the doors closed and I hear the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock.
“Asshole!”
I shower and pick a dress out of the fully stocked closet. One with a pocket, where I stash the pill Ricky gave me. Whose clothes are these, anyway? I force myself not to think about it. Instead I pace the room for what seems like hours. It’s already ten o’clock and there’s no way I’m leaving at three AM with Ricky if the job isn’t done. It’s goddamned Christmas Eve and Santa’s bringing baby a present. Carlos Castillo in handcuffs and Logan whatever-his-last-name-is dead.
Which means, Devil says, you just gotta get the job done before then, right?
Don’t be stupid, Maddie. I smirk at Angel’s change in nomenclature. But yeah. Fuckin’ right I’m not Scarlett anymore. Put the drug in his drink and get out of here. Your Christmas present is living to see another day.
I’m just about to answer her back when the locks on the door disengage and it swings open.
Carlos walks in, slams the doors behind him, and lets out a long breath of air as he stares at me.
Oh, shit. Logan told him and he’s pissed.
But then he smiles. “Madison,” he says, coming towards me, arms outstretched. “You look lovely tonight.”
I force a smile back and say, “Thank you,” relieved that my threats to Logan actually worked. “But I’ve been waiting forever, Carlos. And I’m starving. Are we having dinner yet? I’m so hungry.”
That’s not even a lie. I am starving. But I just want to be taken to the dining room so I can slip the drug in his drink and then go scout out the property. I need to find something to bring this whole operation down before whatever Ricky has planned comes into play.
“I have more work to do. It’s a big night. We have lots of business happening.”
“But it’s Christmas Eve,” I whine. It’s a stupid girly whine that makes me feel stupid, but I don’t care. I need to get this shit on the road. “We’re just starting our new life together”—funny how it’s getting easier to lie about this fake future we’re not planning together—“and we need to celebrate it properly.”
“Oh, we will, darling,” he says, petting my hair. And then he claps his hands and the doors swing open again. This time a staff of servers come in carrying platters and plates with silver domes covering them. They head into the dining room and one produces a tablecloth, snapping it into submission as it’s laid out on the table. After that it’s a whirlwind of glassware, and dishes, and bottles of champagne.
Fuck yeah. We’re having drinks. Fizzy ones, which are perfect for dissolving pills. Now I just need a chance to plop it in.
When all the table-setting fanfare is over, Carlos pulls out a chair for me. I smile politely and say, “Thank you,” as I take my seat.
He sits across from me, grinning like a boy as he opens his napkin and places it in his lap. Servants remove the silver domes over the plates and platters, revealing a proper Mexican Christmas feast.
“Delicious,” I say, biting my lip a little to entice him to soften up and forget about work.
Champagne is poured and then Carlos orders the servants to leave us alone.
“A toast,” he says, raising his glass. “To our first night together.”
I raise mine too but tilt my head at him a little. “Yes, well, technically it’s our second night.”
“But it’s our first night as a couple.”
“No,” I say, correcting him again. “We’re still in the getting-to-know-each-other phase, right? I mean, we did agree.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” he says, putting his drink down. “You want a courtship? Yes?”
Courtship. Jesus Christ, this guy. He’s so delusional. “Yes,” I say. “Exactly. A courtship.”
Carlos smiles. It’s kind of a… sneaky smile, if I had to put a name to it. A sly smile. A cunning smile. Like he’s got a trick or two up his sleeve that I never thought of yet. Like a cat on the prowl after a mouse, where he’s the cat and I’m the mouse and I just walked right into his trap.
“Well,” he says, getting up from the table to walk around behind me. He takes my hair in his hands, plays with it, his fingertips brushing against the back of my neck, making the little hairs stand up on end. And not in a good way.
Something is wrong here.
He leans down, his lips pressing against my ear in a soft kiss. “Well, that means we are… dating, mi amor. And people who date do other things while they get to know each other. So you’re going to stay with me now. Every night in my bed, starting tonight. What do you think of that?”
I’m holding my breath, my chest tight, my mind racing with what this means. “Other things?”
“Si,” he purrs into my ear, kissing my neck now, his hands on my shoulders. I didn’t pick a revealing dress, but they were all strappy. He slides the straps down my arms now, his hand moving forward to caress my breasts.
It takes every ounce of self-control not to elbow him in the mouth. Every bit of willpower to let him touch me like this.
I let that breath out. Slowly. Silently. And say, “Where are the tamales?”
“What?” He laughs. But it stops him. Stops his kiss. Stops his hands.
“Tamales?” I say. “I love tamales. The sweet ones. But I don’t see any on the table. Don’t you have any tamales?” I turn in my chair to look up at him. “Please? Can you ask someone to get me some?”
He starts playing with my hair, a hungry look on his face, and not for the food on the table. “Dessert comes later. And tamales weren’t the sweet ending I had in mind.”
I will remain calm. I will think critically. I will win this game by being smart, and strong and—
Fuck it.
“Please, please, please,” I beg him, standing up in my chair and turning, so we’re face to face. I place both hands on his cheeks. Gaze lovingly into his eyes. Then take one more for the team, lean in, and kiss him on the lips.
He grabs at me, pawing at the straps on my dress like he’s going to take me right now. His kiss is forceful. Hard and overly demanding.
I will not let my revulsion fuck this up. I won’t.
So I kiss him back. And just as he’s about to lose control, I pull away and say, “Please,” again. “Can you get me some tamales? I promise to thank you for it later.”
He hesitates, and I stop to consider that he may be crazy, he may think he’s in love with me—hell, he may actually be in love with me—but this tamale gambit is still pretty goddamned thin. But I’m in it now and so I keep playing the game.
“Or I can thank you now, if you prefer.” And I wink at him. Because I just need him to turn his back so I can slip the drug into his champagne. Once he does that, I can deal with whatever comes next. I will have to. He’ll pass out soon. I just need to get the damn drug in his glass or there’s no way he’s not gonna fuck me tonight.
His grin grows. Then he lets out a hearty laugh. “Very well. Give me a moment.”
“Take your time,” I say.
He turns away and walks over to the large double doors, opening them wide, looks over his shoulder once, again with the hungry look, and then starts speaking to the guards.
I whirl into action. I have the pill over the top of his glass in one blink. It plops into the fizzing champagne and begins to bubble.
Carlos is still talking when I look over my shoulder to check. But when I look back at the glass, the pill is still clearly visible.
Jesus. Fuck. Leave it to Ricky to give me an insoluble drug! I stick my finger in the glass and give it a swirl real fast, still looking over my shoulder at Carlos’s shoulders between the two half-open doors.
I look back at the pill. Still there!
I hear Carlos say, “Gracias.”
Oh, my God. I’m so busted.
My finger comes out, I sit back down, and reach down to pick up my napkin on the floor where it fell when I stood up.
A hand on my shoulder makes me gasp. “What are you doing?” Carlos asks.
“Waiting for you to deliver dessert,” I say back, adding a coy smile to my play. “What else?”
He stares at me. Then his gaze begins to wander around the table. Looking for something out of place…
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’m sure he’s just about to spot the pill in his glass—sure I’m about to be raped, then killed—when shouting and a hard knock at the door pulls his attention in another direction.
I exhale the breath I was holding.
The doors burst open and a man is standing there, talking so fast in Spanish, I can’t keep up with the conversation. Something about a truck, and a blockade near the border…
Carlos turns back to me and says, “I have to go. But I’ll see you later when I come to bed for the night.” He strokes my cheek, looks at me with real affection, and I let myself feel a little relief.
I won’t be raped and killed.
Not yet, anyway.
“It’s fine,” I say, my voice slightly shaky. “I’ll be here.” But then I get another idea. “But before you go…”
“Yes?” Carlos asks, already walking towards the door to deal with whatever drug-lord emergency he’s having.
“Do you mind…? I mean, it’s Christmas Eve and all. And I’m all alone. Do you mind if I take a walk out near the beach? I haven’t seen it yet. I promise not to go in the water. I’ll just walk on the sand.”
He’s shaking his head no before I even finish. “It’s not safe, Madison. Not tonight, I’m sorry.”
“But… But you have guards, right? Like everywhere? Right? Surely, it’s safe. I know it is. You control the whole place. No one can get in here. I mean, you brought me here to keep me safe. And there’s walls and—”
“I said no, Madison.” He looks a little angry at having to tell me twice.
I only have one trick left. So I do the only thing I can.
I cry.
Not sobs or anything. Just a tear. Just one. I let it leak out of my eye. Let it fall down my face. He’s transfixed at the whole display. And when I say, “OK,” in the smallest, weakest, meekest voice possible…
He sighs.
“Fine. But only the beach right in front of the house.”
“Thank you,” I say, standing up. I finger the lapels of his suit. Smile up at him. Kiss him gently on the chin. And say, “I feel so much safer knowing your guards are watching. I’ll be right on the beach.”
He kisses me. Good God, how many times do I have to let him do that?
As many as it takes to keep breathing, Devil says.
Truth.
Carlos leaves, pulling the doors closed behind him.
And I bolt towards the sliding glass doors, opening them up just enough to slip through.
I force myself to walk, looking over my shoulder at the guards. But they’re congregating together, heads pressed in tight. Talking. Then shouting begins on the other side of the wall around Carlos’s private dwelling and they scatter in several directions to see what new fresh hell the devil has conjured up.
I take my chance and run.
Because fuck this. Tyler was right. I’m gonna get myself killed. And the way it’s going, that’s gonna happen before morning.
I figure he can’t own the entire coastline, right? So I can just dart up the beach until I get far enough away to slip through some other rich drug lord’s compound. Or whatever.
There’s not much cover, but there’s little shrubby bushes and lots of hilly dunes. I climb one, slip down the other side, and look back to see if anyone’s coming after me.
Nope.
I smile, sure I’m gonna get away. Sure I’m gonna be on my way home soon, back to my fucked-up life that’s looking not so fucked up right now…
And that’s when a large man in black jumps out from behind a dune, cups his hand over my mouth to make sure I can’t scream, and tackles me to the ground.