Cadillac Payback: Rising Tide AJ Elmore (motivational books for students .txt) 📖

beside me, Mateo is quiet and still, waiting for his lady's words. I hate that prick. He's pompous, and pampered, and it's questionable that he has any personal code. Mostly, I will never be able to call him family. He's not my people. But how do I say that to Abuela?

I wait silently. I'm not stupid enough to try to take this situation under control. Like I'd want to. Abuela is exceedingly clever, so much so that it's hard for even me to keep up with her sleight of hand. That doesn't stop me from trying.

The truth here is that she already knows I'm not whole-heartedly invested in her empire. She knows she's not my number one. This move could be her way of dividing my loyalty, or it could be that she's pulling other strings elsewhere, way beyond my sight. It could be both.

There's one more truth I can't afford to forget: it wouldn't be easy to just vanish from the cartel's sight. The Reaps – Gram never had the resources to track me down when I stole his shit and split. Abuela, and those above her, they have all the resources and manpower they could ever need to find me. That's a truth that rubs me raw.

I let myself get too tangled in it, now the web might as well be a noose. Still and always, I'm different from Josh, and Isaiah. Maria didn't do me dirty, and it's not her fault I stayed too long. It's my fault.

Last night, I lied to Maria. It might have been the first time ever. This meeting was never slated for the morning. I was always supposed to be here at noon. But after seeing past her mask at dinner, seeing her terrified and lost, I needed the space.

I don't know how to be around her anymore without wanting to kill every guy she talks to, and without throwing up all the armor I have to avoid letting her close again. She can't understand the failure in our success, how close we were to losing everything. If Derrik had stopped the truck, there was no one on Maria's back. It saves everyone some trouble if this is all just business.

Abuela says in Spanish, “After a lot of consideration, I have made my decision final. You are the best suited for the position, and I need that position filled now. You have been fated for security since you helped Maria succeed in destroying Gram.”

A bitter laugh boils in my gut, and smolders just as fast. Her words are a pointed contradiction to my train of thought, which is derailed by what she actually said. Fated for security?

For a long time, I don't answer. Memories skip to a poker game in the swampland, to the best hand I've ever dealt, and the sneaky test she administered to me over the cards. An asset, that's what Abuela has always seen in me. The same damn thing Derrik saw all that time ago. It's almost too much to swallow.

My voice is tight when I say, “Yes, ma'am.”

I've known this was coming for days, but still the finality sinks into my gut like an anchor. As it goes, its chain wraps tighter around my chest, and it's getting hard to breathe. Phantom pains spider through my ribs, and I can almost smell motor oil.

She's still staring at me, watching closely for any cracks in the mask. I'm doing my damnedest not to show how much I hate what's happening to my life right now, but I'm not sure if it works. I'm not even sure if I care. The thing about hatred is that it tends to shine through in the eyes, no matter how you try to hide it.

Finally she says in English, “This won't be a problem, will it, Frederick?”

I'm paralyzed under the weight of her attention, and her assessment. She'll notice any twitch of a muscle, any shift of emotion. She can probably see straight through to the storm deep within me.

My voice is steady when I answer.

“Of course not.”

She nods once, and her steady gaze slides to Mateo. He turns to me with a fake-ass smile, and extends a hand toward me. He says, “Welcome aboard, hermano.”

Brother? I don't fucking think so. I nail him with the flat glare that crumbles the resolve of so many, and his smile stutters.

I glance down at his hand, and say, “Just tell me where to be, and when.”

My 1911s are suddenly heavy against my chest, and I'm past ready to leave. My outward calm is such a grand farce, and it's threatening to give under strain. My wrath comes from somewhere old and really hot. The only way not to do something stupid when it roars to the surface is to go somewhere void of people.

I need to find that place, soon. The only thing keeping the teeter-totter level is a single truth. I didn't take that beating for Abuela. If she had asked the same of me, I would have told her to fuck herself. She knows that.

Mateo can’t hide that I’ve offended him. The sentiment is all over his face, but there's not much he can say to me now about my shitty attitude. If this really is Abuela's mandate, he's stuck with me. She didn't say anything about making it pleasant.

Mateo's hand lowers slowly, unshaken, and he says, “8 AM, my office.”

I nod once and look back to Abuela. A tiny smirk is playing her lips, a familiar smile. It's the same one I saw when I won the poker pot on her porch. If she's being honest – and it's a big ‘if’ – she's wanted to move me for some time now. That she waited, that's the kicker. Why?

She says, “That's all today, Frederick. Take the rest of the day off.”

I don't say anything else when I leave. I can't say I think she expects me to. One thing I have figured out about Abuela is that she likes roughnecks.