“The sex trade,” she almost whispered. “I’ve been hearing that for years about this place.”
I nodded. “Did you see anything when you drove in?”
She shook her head. “I had to wear a blindfold, but Alejandro was nice about it. He sort of gave me the option without really giving me an option, you know?”
I smiled a little. “I do, all too well.” I paused, trying to think of how to word what I wanted to say. Since Cristiano had left the morning after we’d slept at La Madrina, I’d been asking myself what I believed and what I didn’t. His story added up. But my feelings about it didn’t. “I can’t really say too much. But whatever you’ve heard about the Calavera cartel, there’s another side of the story. A good side.”
“Good?” She looked over her shoulder. “Not a single thing I’ve heard could be described that way.”
I shielded my eyes against the sun reflecting on the water. “Just trust me.”
“I do, Tali, but . . . that’s the complete opposite of what everyone says.” She blinked a few times. “I mean, how could some of it not to be true?”
“I’m not saying they’re angels, believe me.” I rubbed the inside corners of my eyes, knowing how it sounded—like I was excusing Cristiano’s behavior. “Cristiano is still . . . he’s . . .” I couldn’t find the words, because I didn’t know myself. I knew what I wanted to believe about him, but what I actually believed? Not the best but not the worst, either.
“He’s scarier than any monster,” I said quietly.
I’d let that soothe me as a child, but it wasn’t until my mother’s death that the words had taken on a negative meaning. On some level, as a young girl, I must’ve known something good in Cristiano.
And now . . . I wanted Cristiano on my side. He was the law in a lawless land, a dark hero for those who needed one. A protector.
Things I might’ve called him to his face, if only he’d been that for me.
And now, thanks to my guidance, he was out there searching for something that would only make him more powerful. That was all a man like Cristiano wanted. No matter what he’d divulged about his mission, it was the only thing he would pursue to the point of madness.
Power.
That was the everything he’d claimed was within grasp.
The everything he’d confront danger to get.
And that could either hurt or benefit me, depending on which Cristiano I was dealing with.
When he returned, it would most likely be as an even more powerful husband . . . or a more formidable captor.
20
Natalia
Cristiano’s bed was irritatingly comfortable and welcoming—nothing like what I’d expected riding to the Badlands with him.
I stared up at the ceiling, thankful Pilar was under the same roof as me and away from Manu. We’d actually managed to have a good time lunching by the pool, followed by popcorn and a movie, but I could tell she was anxious over Cristiano’s return.
I was the one who should be anxious—yet my mind was occupied by my earlier conversation with Pilar. She was skeptical of his business, but I’d tried to defend it. Could I believe and respect him while despising what he’d done to me?
I reached over to the nightstand and took the cell phone he’d left me from the drawer. He’d told me to call, and there were things I wanted to discuss with him.
“I have to talk to you about Pilar,” I said when the line clicked.
“Good evening to you, too,” came Cristiano’s familiar, rumbling voice over a din of background chatter that sounded like a restaurant.
I flopped back onto my pillow and twirled my hair around my finger. “Good evening.”
“I’ve already spoken with Alejandro,” he said tersely.
“And?” I asked.
His voice went distant as he excused himself from wherever her was; he didn’t speak again until the background quieted. “Tell me what you’d like me to do with him, Natalia. The fiancé.”
Chills covered my skin. I’d never been asked to determine anyone’s fate before, and if I knew Cristiano, he wasn’t asking if I thought we should write Manu a threatening e-mail. “I don’t know,” I said.
“Yes, you do. Don’t get shy on me. Don’t you want justice for your friend?”
“Yes . . .” I counted the number of antlers in the chandelier to avoid asking myself what kind of justice seemed fair for a pig like Manu. Someone who’d beat on a woman half his size should feel that same wrath turned on him. And with my husband hanging on the line, I had the means to make that happen. “She’s afraid of you. You beat up her cousin,” I said. “She saw the whole thing.”
“I remember. He was a thief. I should’ve killed him.”
“For stealing?” I asked.
“No. For sexually abusing Pilar’s half-sister.”