Page 29 of Cartel Viper (The Cartel Brotherhood #2)
Chapter Fifteen
Javier
Why can’t things just be simple?
Tío E
Drew O’Sheehan? You need to explain now then get back to the city.
I can practically hear my uncle’s voice in my head. I know he isn’t pissed that I brought Maddy here even though it’s our family retreat. He thinks I don’t have her protected well enough. In case he truly orders me to bring her back, we need to get dressed.
But not until we finish our bath.
Maddy’s ready to climb off me, but I reach for the shower poof and body wash.
I didn’t open the text, just read the preview.
It’s a family mandate that we have read receipts on, so I don’t need my uncle to know I saw his command.
I’ll call him back, but not before I’m ready.
He said nothing that makes me think there’s imminent danger if I don’t.
There’s a lead glass window above the tub.
It’s difficult to see through, but I can still make out things on the ground.
I’ve been able to see the men patrolling.
If anyone breached the security, I’d see it, and we’d hear the alarm.
Anyone who comes through the first gate without the code or anything heavier than a pigeon sitting on the top of the property wall sets off the alarm.
I rub the poof over Maddy’s arms, back, and chest before she takes it and does the same to me. I pour shampoo onto my hand and rub it through her hair. She moans with satisfaction as I massage her scalp. After a few minutes, she returns the favor, her magical fingers massaging my scalp.
Fucking bliss.
All of this. Making love to her—there’s no way in hell that was just fucking.
Feeling her hands all over me. Talking to her.
Spending time with her. This is far more than I deserve, considering the fucked-up things I do every day.
I’m going to appreciate every second of it, since I fully expect fate to rip it away from me.
First it took my abuelito —grandpa—from me. I was super close to my dad’s dad. My mom’s father was murdered before I was born, but I remember my paternal grandfather. I was six when he died. He used to take me fishing and play card games with me.
Then it took my dad. He was murdered for marrying my mother and joining the Diaz Cartel. My abuelito never had a problem with Papá working for Tío Enrique even though he had to spend time working for my great-uncle—the one who killed his own brother—my grandfather.
“Javi?”
“Hmmm?”
“You suddenly seem a million miles away. Was it the text?”
“No. I was just thinking.”
“Did something happen? Are you in trouble for bringing me out here?”
“No, but it was Tío Enrique. I have to check in with him. He knows we’re out here. He wants us to come back to the city, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Will it piss him off if you refuse?”
“Possibly. Probably. But I’m not taking you anywhere until I’m certain it’s safe. He knows how I feel about this place.”
She’s sitting back and watching me now. I know she won’t ask what I mean, but she wants to know.
“ Tío knows I feel safest here. It’s where my mom, brothers, and I fled to when we couldn’t stay in Bogotá any longer.
Men were pressuring my mom, trying to trap her into marriage to get to my uncle.
They either wanted to kill him or make friends.
Either way, it was dangerous for Mamá , and my brothers and I were leverage.
When we came to America, we came straight here.
Papá bought this place as a wedding gift for Mamá .
It was a getaway for them that allowed them to enjoy everything New York offered without being in the city.
They could just enjoy each other’s company when they wanted solitude and take advantage of everything else when they wanted to go out.
When it was no longer safe to stay in Colombia, Mamá brought us here.
I come out here when I need time away from everything else. ”
Maddy listens, and I think she appreciates me opening up about my family.
I’m certain she knew why we came to America, but there was no way she could know about this home.
I observe her as I speak. I’m ready to share things with her I’ve shared with no one else.
Things about my family’s past that’ve always been top secret.
“Do you know much about my family and how we came to be who we are?”
“A bit. Only things Pablo and Juan said when we were really young. Stuff they didn’t know not to tell girls they thought of as little sisters.”
“My dad’s side of the family wasn’t Cartel until my dad met my Tío Enrique in college.
My abuelito did some business with my tíos ’ family, but they weren’t Cartel.
Beside Tío Luis, Papá was Tío Enrique’s best friend.
When Tío Humberto—my mom’s uncle, so my great-uncle—started trouble, my abuelito couldn’t ignore it.
He recruited my dad when he was in his twenties.
Back then, Tío Humberto lived in NYC, and he headed up the Colombians here.
Tío Humberto believed Papá worked for him.
My dad rose up the ranks fast because Tío Humberto favored him.
Tío Enrique and Tío Luis had been out of college for a few years, and my mom and Tía Catalina were back in Bogotá after college.
It didn’t take long for everyone to realize the shit Tío Humberto wanted him to do was meant to screw my abuelito and to keep Tío Enrique from inheriting anything.
Not here in New York or back home in Bogotá.
Papá couldn’t just walk away because he knew the shady shit Tío Humberto was doing endangered my mom’s entire family.
He met Mamá when he was gathering information to give to Tío Enrique.
He couldn’t tell Mamá that, so she thought he was a complete cabrón .
Arrogant, apparently. I wonder where I got that from. ”
I try for some self-deprecating humor, and it works because Maddy flashes me a smile. I don’t think I’m freaking her out too much, so I keep going.
“ Papá never got over being unable to warn abuelito in time to save him. He told Tío Enrique about the first plot, and Tío thwarted it. But he didn’t learn what Tío Humberto planned the second time until it was too late.
Papá’s the one who had to tell Tío Enrique, who had to tell Tío Luis.
Together, they called Mamá , Tía Catalina, and Abuelita .
I can’t imagine how that must have felt for any of them.
It wasn’t Papá’s place to tell Mamá , but he was with her just after her brothers called.
He made sure the three women were together.
Tía Catalina was engaged to Tío Matáis at the time, so he was there too.
“No one ever doubted Papá’s or Tío Matáis’s loyalty because they were the first to get Tío Enrique’s orders to strike back.
They did what needed doing until my tíos could get to Bogotá.
I’d like to say the stories I’ve heard are just urban legend, but I’m certain they only scratch the surface of what happened when Tío Enrique took over.
He went from being a pretty recent college graduate to running New York City to running all of Latin America in the space of a couple phone calls and one gunshot. ”
That’s an abridged version of history. From what I know, Tío Enrique and Tío Luis went full vigilante when they returned to Colombia for my abuelito’s funeral.
They sent Mamá , Tía Catalina, and Abuelita to the family’s compound on the coast near Venezuela.
It’s where our ancestors’ lived before migrating to Bogotá.
We still speak the indigenous language when we don’t want anyone around us to understand.
While the women were gone, Tío Enrique led five missions that practically decimated every rival they had in the country.
He’s only helped law enforcement once; he ensured Tío Humberto’s extradition from the U.S.
to Colombia. Once he had his uncle back in Bogotá, he made sure it benefited the government to hand the hijo de puta— son of a bitch — over to my uncle.
Tío Luis started infiltrating prisons to ensure we had men on the inside who’d keep the incarcerated men from all the cartels on our side.
Whenever the government released any of them, they were ready to work for my uncles, not Tío Humberto.
Tío Enrique personally captured his uncle and imprisoned him in a lavish estate that makes Pablo Escobar’s look like a cabin in the woods in comparison.
He gave Tío Humberto the luxuries to taunt him because Tío Enrique hasn’t allowed him to leave the place in over thirty years.
He oversees things when Tío Luis or Alejandro aren’t there.
Tío Enrique goes down to visit every few months to beat the shit out of him—to remind him he lives because my uncle lets him.
He started doing that after Tío Humberto failed to look out for Mamá , my brothers, and me.
He had the power to keep men from pursuing Mamá for her money and connections.
He could’ve kept men from approaching my brothers and me to recruit us into rival cartels.
He could’ve kept the street gangs from attacking my brothers and me. But he didn’t.
Mamá did an excellent job protecting Jorge, Joaquin, and me until we became tweens.
The street gangs got more aggressive, and my brothers and I were getting in fights regularly.
By the time Joaquin was fourteen, I’d just turned thirteen, and Jorge was nearly twelve, I’d already killed three men.
Joaquin had also killed, and Jorge had already stabbed guys.
It was imperative we get out, so we fled to this house.