Page 16 of Cartel Viper (The Cartel Brotherhood #2)

When I get to the parking lot, I zig-zag among the cars.

If they followed me, they know what I drive and where I’m parked, but I work on the principle that it’s harder to hit a moving target.

I wait until I’m a car away before I unlock mine.

It takes two hands to pull it shut as Mikey grabs the handle.

I barely get it closed, but my finger is over the lock button when I do. I press on it and hear the mechanism.

I barely breathe before Mikey’s pounding on the window. I turn on the car as I watch him reach back and under his leather jacket. I know he carries a retractable billy club. If he gets that out, he’ll smash my window. At the same time, Pauly’s positioned himself in front of my car.

Dumb move.

I put the car in drive and give him a nudge. Fair warning. Rather than take the gentle hints, he climbs onto my hood. It’s about to be Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.

I don’t exactly gun it, but I press hard on the gas pedal.

I need to get away from Mikey’s baton and get Pauly off my car.

Anyone watching would call my driving erratic.

I call it strategic. I take a sharp turn in the parking lot at speed, and it flings Pauly off.

He goes sailing into another car. I’m certain he’ll survive, and they’ll both soon be chasing me down. But it buys me time to get on the road.

I know where I’m going. I don’t even have to think twice about it. I need to get into Manhattan. From there, I’m not entirely certain.

I pull my belt on, and my car stops yelling at me. I wriggle and pull my phone from my back pocket. I glance at the screen and see a dozen missed calls from Xavi.

Javier.

I see I have several texts too. I don’t have time to read them, but he must know something’s wrong. I unlock the screen with my thumb as I half watch the road and half look at my phone. I hit the missed call notification and tap the dial button.

“Maddy!”

“Javi, how do I get to your place? I need help.”

“I know, chiquita . I’m watching it all. Did they hurt you?”

He knows? He’s watching me?

I don’t have time to be freaked out that he’s stalking me.

No. That’s not right.

I can take a second to appreciate he’s following through on his promise to protect me.

That’s what it means in this world. Tracking your loved ones.

I know Maks tracks Laura. He doesn’t monitor her every coming and going, but he can find her if something goes wrong.

I’d call what’s happening right now something going wrong.

“No. They didn’t touch me. I got out of the room and down the fire exit without them getting close to me.”

“But they nearly did when you got in your car. I’m almost to you, chiquita .

I see your car. I’m in my Porsche. I’m going to hang a u-ie when I pass you and get behind you.

Stay on the line with me, and I’ll give you directions.

We aren’t going to Manhattan, even if it is a little faster. We’re going to the Heights.”

Jackson Heights. It’s the Colombian Cartel-controlled neighborhood in Queens. Wherever he takes me, it’ll have more protection than his condo in Manhattan, which is what I originally wanted to find.

Instead of jumping on NJ3—still an interstate with six to eight lanes—we head to the Garden State Parkway.

I pray Javi knows what he’s doing, and there’s no traffic or construction on here.

There’s no avoiding tolls crossing over from New Jersey into New York, so my license plate will get recorded.

Whenever I go through one, I keep my head tucked.

I reach for the ball cap I keep on the backseat to help shield me from street and toll cameras.

I check my rearview mirror as a silver 918 Spyder zooms toward me. Of course the man owns the fastest Porsche ever made. At least it’s a gas hybrid. I speed to give as much room between me and my—our—pursuers. He whips around, making the tightest turn I’ve ever seen a car do.

“Go, Maddy. Floor it. You have an open stretch until we get to the Parkway.”

He must remember I have a lead foot. I push my car to go as fast as I dare on a surface street.

It doesn’t take long for the Parkway ramp to come into sight.

Since I know Javi’s following me and knows where I’m going, I don’t use my turn signal.

He’s practically riding my bumper to ensure no one can slip between us.

The highway is empty along this stretch, so I put my pedal to the floor.

My car leaps forward, and I watch the speedometer jump up to ninety, then one-ten. It’s been a long time since I’ve tested how fast a car could go on an open highway. I have no fear—not a moment’s trepidation—about going this fast.

I know my car can’t do what Javi’s can, but it’s holding its own for right now. But I have to slow when I turn off the Parkway and merge onto I-80. I have no choice as traffic slows for bridge construction over the Hackensack River.

“It’s okay, Maddy. The lanes narrow, so they can’t come alongside us. I’ll keep them from catching up to you. Just keep going, little one.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

I keep looking at my dash clock. What should be like twenty minutes on this road creeps up to thirty as we inch along.

“Maddy, you’re doing just fine. I know you’re anxious, but they’re three cars behind me and not catching up. They don’t know where we’re going, so we’ll lose them when we hit Astoria.”

“I’m trying not to panic, Da?—”

Oh, fuck.

I catch myself before I say Daddy, but it’s only then that I realize I already said it once. I cringe and want to sink into the floor of my car. It’s way different—us both thinking the word and me saying it aloud. I’m utterly humiliated.

“ Chiquita , I will protect you just like I promised. Once we’re safe, I’ll take care of you and everything else. You know that. It’s why you called and were headed to me. We both know why I call you chiquita , and we both understand why you called me that. It works for us.”

Us .

I want an “us” so badly I nearly burst into tears.

“Thank you, Daddy.” I can barely respond above a whisper, but I want to be sure he hears me.

We both fall quiet as we crawl through the traffic until we can merge onto Ninety-Five and cross over the lower level of the GW Bridge and into the Bronx.

I spot Yankee Stadium as we travel south along the Harlem River.

I keep my head down as we pass through the toll and onto Randall Island.

So many fucking rivers and islands in New York City.

I breathe a little easier as the East River flows beneath me, and we finally hit Astoria Park in Queens.

“Maddy, we’re going to get off on South Astoria Blvd. When we do, let me get ahead of you. I’ll lead you the rest of the way. Be prepared for me to take sharp turns there might not be time to warn you about.”

I hate knowing Javi won’t be behind me to shield me, but neither do I love knowing he was their first target before they could get to me. I’d rather he not get caught in the middle.

We jump off the Grand Central Parkway, and I follow him along surface streets. I stick close to him, and I barely follow him around some corners since he takes them at the very last moment. If I weren’t so attentive, I’d sail past them.

“Javi, they’re still there!”

I watch Pauly and Mikey inch up to two cars behind me.

“I know, little one. I see them in my mirror. This last turn should do it. It’ll be the third street on the left.”

“Okay.”

We’ve crossed through Woodside and Sunnyside Gardens.

He’s taking us into Elmhurst. These are parts of Queens I’ve only heard of.

I’ve never been here. I’ve had no reason to.

He’s bringing us around the backside of Jackson Heights.

I don’t know if Mikey and Pauly figured out who was following me and now I’m following, but the moment we enter the Heights, they’ll know it’s someone from the Cartel.

If they haven’t already called Drew to tell him what’s going on, they will now.