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breathed. And if they had busted Carlos s cover, they would
kill him. My lover might already have been killed and with
my knowledge of Flores s sadistic nature it would have
been an agonizing ordeal.
A blend of blinding panic, fury, and horror tensed my
muscles. I sucked in a deep breath, alerted Jesse with my
eyes, and mouthed the word Flores. As if in a bizarre
dream, the sound of Aunt Dahlia s television novella wafted
to my ears the actors rattling in Spanish in surreal
contrast to the torturous electricity in the air.
Jesse rose and moved to the chair beside me, his
narrowed eyes examining my expressions intently, his jaw
clenched.
It took every ounce of steel in my soul to remain
collected.  I did receive it, Flores.
Flores s deep, gentle laugh met my reply. I could
practically see his full lips stretching in a tight smile, his
black eyes flickering like a languorous snake.  Your lover
is& visiting me at the moment. I imagined his grin falling
to a frown as his voice grew hushed.  I m having a nice chat
with him. In case you thought I was bluffing, I sent you his
lovely earring to show you I m not. He let out a deep sigh.
 Your little bebé is so pretty.
I gripped the side of the table. I knew Flores well, and
knew not to poke at him, to rile the tightly coiled snake; so,
in spite of the violent churning in my gut in spite of the
frightening images of Carlos being tortured my voice
Candy G. | C. Zampa
175
maintained its coolness.  You know I don t want him
harmed, Flores. What do you want me to do?
 I fired my attorney. He s not doing as well as you did.
Envisioning Flores in a panic would have normally
brought a smile to my lips, but not while Carlos was his
prisoner.  I know. What does that have to do with me?
Flores roared,  You know exactly what I want you to
do, you fucking two-bit hijo de puta! Very simply, I want
you to return to work for me. If you don t, I ll kill your lover,
and I ll kill you, too.
I recognized my former boss s candid timbre, the
coldblooded flatness to his threat, and knew he wasn t
bluffing. His warning of my death didn t scare me, but the
thought of rendering Carlos s life to such a fate even if I
never saw him again, never made love to him again was
unendurable. All that mattered was to get him out.
 Where can we meet? I sighed.
I was sure he could hear my fear, but I didn t care.
Flores had always been a hand grenade without a pin,
waiting to explode with the slightest provocation, and I
knew his monstrous ego needed to sense trepidation and
respect or he would kill Carlos.
 Ah. A satisfied purr, which was surely accompanied
by a swelling of his chest.  My beautiful boy. I knew you d
understand. I ll wait for you at my tobacco vending
warehouse on Matamoras Avenue. Sí?
 Sí.
 You won t make me wait long? A deadly order
camouflaged as a polite request.
 No. I m leaving now.
Candy G. | C. Zampa
176
 Oh& if the police happen to show up, I won t allow
myself to be arrested. So I m sure I d do something silly and
you and your pretty boy would die with me.
 Comprende. No police.
 Gracias, Candelario.
A dizzying shot of adrenaline blasted through me. I
snapped the cell shut, clipped it to my belt, and barked to
Jesse,  He has Carlos. I m going to get him.
 Not without me, you re not.
Jesse sprang from the chair, and we barreled through
the door.
There was no point in discouraging him, nor enough
time. Nothing, regardless of the danger, could stop my
friend from standing by my side.
Aunt Dahlia, who d been engrossed in her television
program, called after us,  What s wrong? Your dinner!
We headed to the foyer, and whatever other words she
bellowed faded at our backs.
Jesse s long legs kept up with my fast pace to the car.
As soon as the doors were unlocked, he slid into the seat,
buckling his seatbelt.
The engine roared to life, the car jerking when I
slammed it into reverse, and the tires screeched on the
pavement as I backed along the winding drive. I eased
through the residential streets, cautious of late-night
walkers and joggers, but once I entered the highway, the
black Mercedes carved through traffic like a shark gliding
in the midst of a school of slower-moving fish.
Tense silence rode between Jesse and me on the way to
Flores s warehouse. My life as Flores s attorney had brought
Candy G. | C. Zampa
177
me face to face with danger many times, and Jesse and I
had never tossed around meaningless words of support
that would soften our minds to the situation. By his
occasional troubled sideways glances, though, I knew my
friend sensed the horror in my heart. Even if he didn t
particularly like Carlos, Jesse would still face death with
me to protect the man I loved.
He steeled his eyes on the hood ornament, and his
hushed voice splintered the quiet.  Candelario, was Carlos s
cover blown?
I hadn t realized how tightly wound I was until I heaved
a deep breath, and my chest ached.  He didn t mention it.
My fingers tapped a nervous beat on the steering wheel.
How could I break the news to my friend?  Jesse, it s a
trade-off.
Twisting in the seat to face me, Jesse shook his head.
 I don t get it. A trade-off for& . He touched a hand to his
chest.  No. Please. Tell me, Candelario, you re making a
goddamn joke.
I nodded slowly, and he let out a pained groan.
My pulsed throbbed hard in my neck at the sight of the
exit to Matamoras Avenue. Navigating under the bright
streetlights of the warehouse district, I slowed upon
spotting the TF S Tobacco Vending sign. I eased into a
narrow alleyway opening into a vast parking lot and
stopped in front of the loading dock.
Flores s men, a sentry of impeccably dressed goliaths,
surveyed us from the massive warehouse doors. Upon
seeing the familiar legion lining the entrance, the sobering
reality dawned on me that the only way I would ever leave
this place alive would be to submit to returning to Flores s
Candy G. | C. Zampa
178
organization. And since a relationship between a drug lord s
attorney and a cop would never be possible not for Carlos, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]