Wrong Kind of Love

I massage my temples. This is not the shit I need or want. “Gabe, why are you here?”

“I’m out of prison.” He holds his arms wide on a grin. “And I’m getting my shit in order. You’re my cleaner, ese.”

“Hell no, Gabe. Hell to the fuck no.”

He cocks his head like a damn parrot. “Did you go deaf? I said the cartel knows you’re alive. They know you sold out Garcia.”

Fuck no. This is not how this goes. “They don’t know shit. They heard I sold out Garcia before I blew up in a fucking transport van, Gabe.”

“Yes, yes. You blew up… and yet, I found you.”

Goddammit.

“All I’m saying, ese, is you want to try to tackle those crazy fuckers on your own, then you’re the crazy fucker.”

“And cleaning your money helps me how?”

“It’s an exchange. Camilla said no one would set foot on your island as long as you clean the money.”

I glare at him. “We’re supposed to be friends.”

“Yes, but my sister hates you...I can do nothing about that. She doesn’t give things for free.”

“What the hell ever, Gabe.” The feds promised me anonymity when I offered to sell out a Christmas list of their most wanted list, but they also washed their hands of me the moment I made the deal with them, telling me I would be on my own once that van blew up. No witness protection. Nothing. The best I can do is the cartel. And isn’t that some shit?

He settles back on the lounge, placing his hands behind his head on a pleased sigh. “We’ll have good times, my friend.”

Real good times. Might as well get the damn cartel’s name tattooed on my ass at this point.

“What in the ever-loving hell is…” Marney freezes halfway over the threshold, a menacing scowl setting on his aging face. “Fucking Estrada.”

Gabe flips Marney a middle finger before rambling off something in Spanish, I’m certain is an insult.

“Boy…” Marney hitches his pants up before striding over to me. “What’ve I told you about the damn cartel!”

Gabe picks at one of the fifteen nicotine patches on Marney’s arm, peeling it off. “What the hell is this?”

Marney snatches it and slaps it back on. “Smoking’s bad for the baby. Just like you and your filthy cartel.” He glares at me. “Bad for the baby.”

An annoyed huff I know all too well comes from the side of the patio, and I glance over to see Tor in the doorway, without Cayla, and glaring at Gabriel like she will rip his head off if given the chance. “Cartel?” She digs her fists into her hips. This is not good. Fuck, this is not good. “You need to leave.”

Gabe throws his head back on a cackle. “You’ve got a lot to learn, muchacha.”

“No, you’ve got a lot to learn—”

“Tor…” I get up, and she crosses her arms over her chest on a stern glare. “It’s kinda complicated.”

“You are not bringing this shit around Cayla, Jude.”

I don’t want to. But it’s already here. There’s no way out of this. Tor’s hardened expression begins to soften, fear setting in her eyes. “Jude… what are you not telling me?”

Gabe steps between us. “He sold out a few cartel bosses, a few hitmen. Some racketeers. People are not happy with him, muchacha.” He places a hand on Tor’s shoulder. She jerks away just as I snatch him by the back of his shirt.

“Gabe…” I warn, the muscle in my jaw ticking like a damn bomb.

“Don’t be pissed at me for telling her the truth. You wanna deal with his shitty cartel on your own?” He frowns. “I don’t know what to say except you’re stupid.”

“Jude…” Tor’s voice goes up an octave, inching toward hysteria.

“It’s fine, doll.”

“It’s not, ese.” His attention goes back to Tor. “I come to offer protection for my friend.”

“Protection. From the cartel!” Tor’s gaze is back on me and flaming with a kind of anger I haven’t seen since I shoved a sandwich in her face that time.

Marney grumbles something while he paces behind us.

“Consider us like the Knights of the Round Table. Except with machine guns and oozies.” Gabe grins like he’s proud of that damn analogy, but Tor’s just glaring.

Marney huffs, taking a fresh nicotine patch from his pocket and slapping it on his chest. “This is some bullshit right here, boy, I’mma tell you.” He wraps an arm around Tor’s shoulders, leading her reluctantly away. “Come on, little darlin’. I’ll get you something to eat.”

The glass door slides closed, and I turn to Gabe, debating on throwing a punch at his dumbass. “What the fuck?”

He shrugs. “Selling people out to the feds is dangerous business.”

“I had no other choice.”

He swipes a hand through his hair and moves to the edge of the balcony, staring out over the ocean. “Neither did I. You don’t take this offer, and you’ll be killed. I don’t want your bastard ass dead.” He turns to face me, a worried expression on his face. “I begged Camilla for this. You’re my friend.”