“Hola, este es Dante.” I answer the phone, telling them who I am since I don’t recognize the number.
A jumbled computer like voice responds to me. “Nos vemos en el Zócalo en una hora. Trae 500,000 pesos y guardaré el secreto de tu hermano. Deja los pesos en una bolsa de cremallera y entiérralos en las plantas que estan al lado de los bancos azules. Solo tu.” I’m told to meet this individual at a monument the Aztec’s created in the center of Mexico City and to bring 500,000 pesos. This person says they’ll keep my brother’s secret and instructs me to leave the pesos in a zipped bag and bury them in a plant next to a pair of blue benches.
“¿Quién fregados crees que eres?” I growl, needing to know who the fuck this person thinks they are.
Manic laughter greets me on the other end of the line. “Alguien con quien Angel nunca debería haber jodido. Trae el dinero o tu padre lo sabrá todo. Tengo muchas fotos para mostrarle.” They reply and say they’re someone Angel should’ve never fucked with. I’m told to bring the money or else my father will know everything and this person has the photographs to prove it.
It’s the last thing I hear before the line goes dead.
Motherfucker.
Carefully I pull the duvet back and slide out of bed but tuck the covers around Amara so she’s comfortable. I have a safe here in the house in the closet. It’s tucked away under where I keep my shoes. I head into the office and immediately come to a halt. What the fuck am I doing? I won’t pay this fool. No. I’m not a man who compromises.
Exiting my closet as quickly as I entered, I swiftly change into new clothes and head for Javier’s room on the opposite end of the house. I take no time in crossing the distance and bolt through his door. The lights suddenly come on. “Dante? What the fuck. I almost shot you!”
“We have a problem, hombre.” I’m drastically playing down how bad this is. If anyone finds out Angel is gay this could call for them to slaughter him. You see, Latin countries aren’t very accepting of those who’re anything other than straight. Street gangs could take it amongst themselves to correct ‘nature’s problem’, as they have called it in the past.
“Shit? What time is it?” Javier grumbles while placing his gun beside him. He picks up his phone. “Motherfucker, it’s two in the morning?!”
I chortle, “You act as if you weren’t once the partying type.”
“What is this problem you need my help with?”
Javier and I don’t see eye to eye very often, but Angel is our younger brother and we will do whatever we need in order to protect him. Angel had confided in me that he also told Javier. We are brothers after all, and our bond is strongest together.
“I just received a call. Someone knows about Angel, they have photographs and they want me to bring them a ransom to pay for their silence. No one has my number, Javier. Only the familia.”
“Mmm . . . was Angel seeing anyone?”
I think for a moment and nothing comes to mind. “I don’t believe so.”
“No, he was. He just started seeing that one guy. Fuck. What’s his name? Shit. T . . . Ta . . . ah, Tadeo! Yes, Tadeo Hernandez.”
“Was this new?” My mind is already going to a more likely option.
“Yes, maybe the last month or so.”
“Hernandez . . . did you just say Tadeo?” I know of a Hernandez family who is also involved in the Latin Cartels, but his name isn’t Tadeo. I know an Elías Hernandez, but he is Bolivian. He’s the youngest son of Arsenio Hernandez. “Is this man actually Elías Hernandez? Do you have a photograph?”
“Mm, maybe.” Javier unlocks his phone and scrolls through the photos. “Ah, yes. We went out for a drink one night together.” My brother turns the camera to me and I’m instantly proven right. This man isn’t Tadeo.
“We need to get in contact with Angel. Call him.” I order.
“What the fuck? You call him.”
Javier doesn’t know Angel and I had a big blow up. “I can’t. He won’t answer. I wasn’t able to keep my promise, Javi. Angel will be marrying Fatima Alonzo in four years.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me right now.”
“Am I a man who jokes about things such as this? Call our brother.” I head for the door to Javi’s bedroom.
“Where the hell are you going?” Javi asks.
“To see if this coward will show his fucking face, or if he’ll make one of his goons do it. Regardless, someone is dying today.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Hearts are wild creatures, that’s why our ribs are cages.”
~ Morticia Addams
Dante
There are very few things I’ll lose my head over, but the biggest one is my familia. If you fuck with them, you fuck with me. Angel is known as the violent, erratic one . . . though I can match him depending on the circumstances.
I’ve been standing in an alleyway across the street from Zócalo for about ten minutes. I have a duffle bag and I’ve filled it with cut bricks of copy paper to make it appear like there’s some weight to it. I’ve almost hit the hour mark, so I walk forward, across the street to the median were the bench is and dig my hands into the planter beside it. I have to do a good bit of work before my bag can fit under it, though once I’m done I scoop the dirt back over and flatten it.
I did come alone and followed almost every other order that was given to me by this ballsy motherfucker, but I won’t
