Tempted by the Sinner

“His name is Santos,” Vince said. “He heads the Jalisco in this city.”

“They sent the big boss,” I said.

He laughed, put an arm around my shoulders. “Of course they did. Sending anyone else would guarantee a war.”

“So what’s the plan?”

He shook his head as we passed a group of teenagers crowded around a single phone. They all laughed and I watched them for a second, wondering if I was envious of their laughter or their youth.

But no, I wasn’t envious of either. They lived in a bubble just outside of the real world, but today I was plunging right into that ocean of reality.

“No plan,” he said. “I’ll hear what they have to say.”

“Really?” I asked, trying hard not to let him hear the skeptical note in my voice.

“Really,” he said. “And if they’re lucky, I won’t kill them.”

I nodded my head at the people all around us. “I think that’ll be a little hard, don’t you?”

“Nah,” he said. “Nobody would rat on me. All these people are plants.”

“Wait— really?”

“No,” he said and laughed a little. “Of course not.”

“Shit,” I said.

“Come on, Mona. You don’t really think the mob has that much power, do you?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know how any of this works.”

“We’re strong,” he said, tugging me closer. “But we’re not that strong. That’s some fucking next-level government shit. We can’t fill a park with our own people, even if we wanted to.”

“Good to know, I guess.”

“We could fill a restaurant, though,” he said. “That wouldn’t be so hard.”

He steered me around some slow walking older folks in wide-brimmed hats and fanny packs. We were getting close to the end of the platform, and I felt a strange twist in my guts.

He slowed his pace and dropped his arm from my shoulder.

“Ready?” he asked.

I followed his gaze and saw a man sitting alone on the very last bench in the shade. He had olive skin, stubble on his cheeks, short dark hair. He wore a blue work shirt tucked into tight denim jeans. He was thin, his arms roped in veins, and his eyes flashed toward us.

“I guess so,” I said.

He walked forward and I followed just behind. The man on the bench watched as we approached and didn’t move or smile, his hands folded neatly in his lap, his back straight and prim.

“Santos,” Vince said and stopped a few feet from the bench.

“Hello, Vincent,” Santos said. “I see you brought a guest. I thought we were meeting alone.”

“This is Mona,” Vince said. “She’s my shadow.”

I gave Santos a little wave but he didn’t even look in my direction.

“I see,” he said. “And I thought we were leaving those at home as well.”

“If you want, we can turn around and leave,” Vince said.

Santos held up a hand. “Stay,” he said. “Sit, if you like.” He moved down to the far end of the bench.

Vince looked at me and nodded toward the tree. I took his meaning and wandered toward it, just a few feet behind the two of them as Vince sat down on the bench. Santos looked over his shoulder at me and frowned, and I just gazed back, head tilted like I was trying to study him.

He faced forward again. I was close enough that I could hear every word they said.

“I understand you’re angry,” Santos said.

“That’s an understatement,” Vince said. “And I think you know why.”

“We tried to kill you,” he said. “Of course you’d be unhappy.”

“What I want to know is why?” Vince asked.

“You were a convenient target,” Santos said. “You were unguarded, without your normal crew, and close to the Don himself. I felt you would send a strong message.”

“So, nothing personal, then.” Vince gave a bitter laugh. “You know you dug your own grave, don’t you?”

Santos didn’t move. He kept staring straight ahead, and I wished I could walk around and see his face. He sat so still, like a statue, and I wondered if he felt anything at all.

“Tell me, who’s idea was it to ally with the Russians?” Santos asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Vince said. “You all but guaranteed that’s happening.”

“I see. And I can’t change your mind?”

“You can’t,” Vince said. “Here’s the problem, Santos. You tried to hit me and failed, but you tipped your hand. Now we know you can be pushed around if we only combine our strength with the Russians. Now they have even more incentive to join up and get a better deal squeezed out of you guys.”

“Or your Gulf friends from New York will come down and push us out.”

Vince seemed to stiffen in response. He tilted his head to one side and looked at Santos.

“That’s the plan,” he said.

“It’s a bad plan,” Santos said. “We won’t roll over and allow it. We may not be strong here, but in Mexico, we rule.”