Violent Delights (White Monarch 1)

“Yeah, I didn’t, but Tomás knows all that shit and I think he—”

“Did he disengage the lock?”

Jojo showed us his grimy palms. “I dunno.”

“Tell him to try that,” Diego said. “If it doesn’t work, check the ECM ground wire.”

“What the fuck is that?” Jojo asked, wetting his finger to rub grease off his wrist.

“Come on, cabrón. Like I don’t have enough on my plate?” Diego blew out a sigh. “I’ll text Tomás.”

Seeing the veins pop in Diego’s hands and neck as he gripped the steering wheel, I caressed his right forearm. “Go look at it,” I said. “I’ll be fine here for a few minutes.”

“Maybe if I didn’t hire such dumb motherfuckers,” Diego muttered.

Diego didn’t mean it—he cared a great deal for his men—and Jojo knew it. Jojo smiled with a shrug. “Sorry I couldn’t afford to go to college for engines.”

Diego rolled his eyes. “Wait there,” he said and raised the window before turning to me. “Are you sure? It’s dark out here, and you can’t turn on the lights or someone might see you. I know that scares you.”

Nothing happened in the dark. That was part of why it frightened me—not knowing whose footsteps were coming or going, or who might be at my back, or whether the right or wrong person had found me until it was too late to do anything about it. When Barto had come rushing down the tunnel ladder for me, I hadn’t known who he was until he’d held the flashlight under his chin. The shadows had created a ghoulish, haunting mask that hadn’t looked at all like the Barto I’d grown up around. I’d gone with him willingly, relieved to have been found, but part of me had questioned him—and everything—until we’d emerged from the tunnel into the closet. Doors had been broken down, my mother’s body had been covered, and Papá had crushed me to him for a breathless hug.

I wished there were at least lamps in the lot, but if I said that, Diego would stay when he was clearly needed inside. “I’m not nine anymore,” I told him. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll just go talk to Tomás and come right back.” He leaned over to peck me once more. “Okay?”

“Go.”

The dome light came on as he switched off the engine and handed me the keys. “If you see anything—anything at all—get the fuck out of here.”

“Without you?” I asked.

“Yes.” He shut off the light and the car went pitch dark. Not even a sliver of moonlight touched the area. He passed me the keys with the fob. “These are for the gate and the warehouse. Nothing will happen, but I don’t care if a jackrabbit hops by and looks at you funny. Just go.”

I nodded, gripping the keys. “Got it.”

“Lock the door after me and keep the lights off.” When he ducked out, I hit a button on the roof to plunge the car back into darkness. I barely made out his shadow as he met Jojo at the back door and disappeared inside the warehouse.

With desert all around me, it might’ve felt as if I was in the middle of nowhere, but I had to remember there were many people here. Specifically, men with guns who’d been hired by my father. They wouldn’t let anything bad happen. They were on our side.

Then again, Cristiano had been too when he’d left me in the dark.

Even though it was hard to see, nothing would ever be as pitch-black as the underground tunnel. At least now, I wasn’t covered in blood and on the precipice of a future that’d been dimmed significantly. I’d hugged my knees to my chest and tried to stop picturing all the vibrant colors of my mom’s dress darkened with blood. What if I’d been ten minutes earlier? Or had heard the shot? Would it have changed anything?

The only thing I’d actually seen in that tunnel had been Barto’s shadowed face. All I’d heard was his voice, oddly as cajoling as Cristiano’s hours earlier, my own sobs, and the pests scampering around me.

As my chest tightened with panic, I coaxed myself to breathe through it. But no matter how many times I told myself I was too old to be afraid of the dark, fears as deeply rooted as mine knew no age.

With a piercing screech of metal scraping metal, I spun in my seat to look out the back window but saw nothing. My heartbeat echoed in my ears. I turned forward again. The time on the dash changed. In an alternate universe, Pilar and I were starting Revenge of the Sith. I closed my eyes and hummed the opening bars to Star Wars.

Like a clap of thunder, rumbling motorcycle engines jarred me back to reality. As two bikes pulled up to the driver’s side, I ducked into a ball on the floorboard. It went silent again. A large shadow passed Diego’s window. My heart pounded as the other biker approached. Keys jingled from somewhere. A silhouette peered into the car. On what looked like a beanie or hat, I made out the small but distinct glowing outline of a white sugar skull. A calavera.