Needful Surrender

ESTEBAN

My head lolling to the side wakes me. I lift it slowly, rubbing the ache in my neck caused by falling asleep while seated on the couch. Oddly enough, it hurts more than my shoulder does, thanks to Aurora, who’s insisted on taking care of it.

Looking at her now, I can’t help the smile that tugs on one side of my mouth. She’s taken care of me. I like the way it feels to have her fuss over me, even when she hated me. It feels even better when I think of why that is. She belongs to me. She loves me.

She’s still lying beside me, her breaths deep and even. I’m tempted to touch her, to slide back a tendril of hair that’s fallen over her brow. But I don’t want to rouse her, not when she’s been able to achieve this level of rest all on her own.

I quietly remove my phone from my pocket to see if I’ve missed any calls, only to find that it’s completely out of battery.

Shit. I was afraid this would happen. It was my intention to plug it in when we first arrived, but my need for Aurora took precedence in that moment.

As much as I hate to do it, I must leave her side in order to get it turned back on, which means I have to move her. This isn’t the time to go dark. Not with the attacks on Bellazul and the Falcon building that occurred simultaneously with the attack on me in Apatzingán.

That was the news that greeted me when I stepped off the plane. Several armed men showed up in Bellazul, temporarily overtaking my own guards there and setting fire to my orchards. One-third of the fields were consumed by the flames before control was regained.

Fortunately, I’d amped up security at the Falcon building, and there was no real damage when four men attempted to burst through the doors of Azul. The only casualty seems to have been a patron’s broken arm, a man who tried to be a hero and got run down by the assailants.

Both attacks were sloppy, and four of their guys were injured in the process as they retreated. However, I’m not sure they were wholly unsuccessful. Not if the mission wasn’t to cause damage at all, but to create a sense of insecurity.

The footage captured of both incidents gave no clue as to what syndicate or cartel was responsible. Which leaves us in the vulnerable position of trusting no one. Of living with worry of where the next trap may lie.

Thankfully, no one knows about my mother being alive and well in Colima. Not having to worry about her safety is a huge weight off my shoulders. If only I didn’t have to worry so much about Aurora’s too.

As carefully as possible, I shift beneath her, gently lowering her head onto the couch. She stirs, muttering something unintelligible before she settles once again.

I stand and go into the bedroom in search of my charger. The moment I’m able to power the phone up, it rings.

“Falcon,” I answer.

“Puta madre, you’re alive.” I hear on the other end, immediately recognizing Santos Cruz’s foul-mouthed speech. “I’ve been calling you and Rodrigo for hours.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I reply without mentioning that Rodrigo fell in Apatzingán.

“I heard about the attacks. It’s all over the news.”

I glance at the flat-screen television mounted above my dresser. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Do you know who’s behind it all?”

“I have my suspicions. A team’s already been dispatched to confirm before I take care of the situation.”

“It must be someone powerful if you’re not giving me a name.” He remains quiet for a second, as if he’s waiting for me to give him more information. “Is Campo Escondido safe?”

Ah, there it is, the real reason he’s called. He’s concerned about the coca fields, probably still holding out hope that I’ll relent and allow him into the business.

“The fields are safe,” I assure him.

He sighs in relief. “Good,” he says, then seeming to catch himself, he adds, “As I hope you are. Safely home in Guadalajara, that is.”

“I am.”

“Good. I can spare men if you need assistance.”

For a moment, I consider his offer. The extra manpower would ensure I’d expend no further collateral. But a moment is all I allow myself because I’m fully aware that the offer would come with strings I would rather not be bound by.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I tell him before hanging up.

Just as I’m about to scroll through my messages, a loud pounding on the front door has me running through the living room. Aurora sits up abruptly, her eyes wide as she peers over the back of the couch toward the foyer.

Although my security guards wouldn’t have allowed anyone intent on hurting us this far, I approach carefully, motioning to Aurora to remain where she is.

“Esteban!” comes from the other side.

At the sound of the voice of the man who’s been by my side for years, I swing the door open. “Rodrigo?” I utter, unsure if my eyes are deceiving me.

Aurora moves off the couch, her expression as surprised as mine as she comes to stand beside me.

Rodrigo gives her a once-over, then pushes past us into the house. “Shut that door before someone sees me.”

I do as he says, then follow him into the kitchen, tugging Aurora with me. “Who would see you? The guards—”

“They didn’t see me either,” he cuts me off. “I slid past them.”

I don’t ask how he managed to do that—he has his ways. “I thought Villegas killed you.” Maybe he did die, but he’s risen from the grave. By the looks of him, with mud caked on his disheveled suit and dark smudges all over his face, I could be right.

He doesn’t reply to that. Instead, he throws his coat to the floor and begins to wash his face and arms in the large sink.

Aurora side-glances me as she watches him warily. “If you’d rather shower, I’m sure Esteban has something you can wear.”

“We don’t have time for that,” he growls. “Every minute we spend here, we’re in danger.”

“This house is secure,” I say. “The guards are all on alert for an attack from Villegas and his men.”

“Not secure enough,” he insists. “We need more men.”

“Villegas couldn’t have found this place.”

Rodrigo places his hands on the counter and glares at me with tired, impatient eyes. “You don’t understand. Villegas isn’t the one after us. It was never him.”

“Who is it then?” I ask. “Lorenzo was there.”

He shakes his head. “It’s Santos Cruz. Esteban, it’s the fucking Devil himself that’s after you.”