When we come around the doorway into the waiting area, the others are all standing, Sam taking point with the doctor. My youngest brother looks like he’s ready to punch the poor man or strangle him with his stethoscope, and the doctor looks a little relieved when we arrive.
But the downtrodden expression he gives us makes my heart plummet into my stomach. I know that look, and I know the words that come next. I can recite them in my sleep. I still have nightmares about the first time I heard them.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. As you know, Julian’s internal injuries were extensive. We did everything we could to revive him, but . . .”
The rest of his explanation is nothing but gibberish to my ears. Mom collapses in on herself with a choked wail. I lunge at the doctor as if he was the one who shot my brother, even though I know better. It’s all Leo and Sam can do to hold me back. My vision goes hazy as I stumble backward and slump into a chair, only dimly aware that Celeste has her arms around me and is stroking my head while I sob into my hands.
Leo crouches in front of me, tugs my hands away from my face, and looks up into my eyes. He bares his teeth like he’s ready for blood. “We know the bastard is here somewhere. I’m going to go find him and end him, you got it? For J.J. and for Manny.”
“Leo, no!” Celeste blurts, jumping to grab his arm, but he tears away and is out the door in a few quick strides.
I hold her back, pulling her onto my lap despite the blackness that creeps in at the edge of my vision from the pain flaring in my side. “Let him go. Don’t pretend your father can’t protect him if he succeeds.”
“That’s not the point,” she snaps, glaring at me. “We need Gustavo alive. He knows too much about Amador. About my mother’s death. Let go of me. I have to stop Leo because I know he’ll follow through if we let him.”
I reluctantly release her, the despair creeping back in the farther away she gets. Once she disappears beyond my line of sight, I refocus, then brace myself as well as I can to be the bulwark for my family.
Elle curls up at my side when I settle on the sofa, and I hold Mom’s hand while she sobs and Sam holds her tight from the other side.
A few minutes later, Leo and Celeste reappear, both of them looking pissed.
“He’s gone,” Leo says. “The motherfu—” He stops himself and takes a breath, then says, “Gustavo escaped FBI custody. He’s in the wind.”
41
Maddox
My brother’s funeral takes place at the end of the week, in a church in downtown LA so grand J.J. would have laughed at how ostentatious it is. It seems vastly out of scale for the understated bronze urn resting on a table in front of the altar. J.J.’s Navy portrait rests on a stand beside it, his sharp, gray eyes gazing down at the entire proceeding. Flores money pays for everything so I have no room to argue, even if I had the energy for it. I let Celeste take over the second she offered after we recovered from receiving the tragic news, and after that she handled every little detail down to choosing a headstone. It left me the task of taking care of Mom, Sam, and Elle and reaching out to Marco and Dad about coming home.
At the church, Mom is as graceful and poised as ever with Elle at her side, an almost perfect replica in black. Except now that I’ve seen the resemblance between Elle and Celeste and Arturo, I can’t unsee it.
I’m in my dress blues, and the church is filling with a sea of dark uniforms, men who served with my brother. I’m flabbergasted by the turnout and a little amused by the ratio of black-clad gangbangers mixed with all the white hats, but it doesn’t surprise me that J.J. fostered friendships with this many people from all these backgrounds.
Two faces are still absent, and I keep scanning the arrivals, looking for them. Neither Dad nor Marco called to let us know whether they were able to secure leave to come home. Dad’s not due to finish his assignment until January, but Marco was planning to be home for Christmas, which is only one week away. A family death is more than sufficient reason to secure leave to come home though, so they should both to be here.
A hand slips into mine. Celeste smiles up at me. “Your brother was popular.”
I nod and let go of her hand to greet a few of J.J.’s old high school friends, accept their condolences, then return my attention to her. “He’d love this, the cocky bastard, but he made enemies as easily as he made friends.” I guess he made one enemy too many and it finally bit him on the ass.
It’s time for the service to begin, and since our family is lapsed Catholic, the ritual part is brief before it’s time for me to stand and give my eulogy. I grit my teeth and rise, bending over to give Mom a peck on the cheek and Sam’s shoulder a squeeze. I’m stalling because I hate speaking to crowds. I’ve never been a talker, that was always J.J.’s thing, but there’s no getting out of this. I take a deep breath, turn toward the stage, and stop cold.
My brother Marco is climbing to the podium, glowing like a fucking beacon in dress-whites. Mom inhales a startled breath, then raises her handkerchief to her eyes as Marco leans into the microphone to speak.
“It’s okay, big brother. I know you hate this shit so you can take a seat. I’ve got this.”
I sit back down, stunned that he’s here. But that’s like him to come. I’m sure if
