Karina Halle - Bold Tricks

I made my way to the trunk. “We should at least put on new plates.” I opened it, throwing my overnight bag back in and started rifling through the large Ziplock bag where I kept all the spare plates. There were about ten of them and two of them were foreign, one from British Columbia in Canada and the other from Tijuana state in Mexico. I took the Mexican plate out and waved it at them.

“This should help a bit,” I said and fished out my screwdriver from my spare toolkit. Man, it was nice to have my stuff again. I quickly took off the old Cali plates and put the news ones on, already feeling the heat of the morning sun beating down on me. With any luck, Jose would blend in with any old Mexican car now.

I brought out a pair of black shit-kicker boots that were extra wide at the top and had a leather belt around them that I’d added to them. They were perfect for stuffing a gun and strapping a knife to you. I brought out my Colt from the box in the truck and shoved it down my right boot, making sure it was secure. It looked awfully pretty next to the cherry blossoms on my shin.

I straightened up and looked over the trunk at Camden. “Hey where did you get the gun you were using last night?’

“Gus,” he said and my heart was immediately crushed at the thought of him. He’d come all this way with Camden for me and could be very well dead, if not tortured, by now. Every second we spent trying to get to Javier’s sister, the more Gus slipped away. But we needed Javier’s help, his knowledge of Travis, of the cartels, of Mexico. We had to help him before he could help us, even though I had a feeling all of us were equally wanted now.

I looked over at Camden and Javier, the wheels in my head turning.

“Javier,” I said, “do you think we need to change our appearances?” As it was I had a blonde wig in the trunk too and brought it out before he could say anything. I plopped it on my head and turned to look at them.

With Javier on one side of the car and Camden on the other, they both looked at me with a speechless expression on their faces. I guess with the blonde hair, I looked to Camden like I did in high school and I looked to Javier like I did when we were living together.

“Take it off,” they both said in unison then exchanged furtive glances with each other.

All right, so no disguises. I took the wig off, my scalp already sweating from it and threw it back in the trunk. I was okay with being who I was.

Camden pulled his seat forward and let me squeeze in to the back of the car. I hated being back there. I missed being in the front, I missed fucking driving, but knew Camden would feel slighted if I asked to change places and that was the last thing I wanted him to feel. More than he already did, anyway.

Javier pulled out of the dusty motel parking lot and drove steadily until we reached the first gas station. After we filled up, it was only about two hours before we reached the city.

I wasn’t prepared for the sprawl. I mean, I knew how large Mexico City was especially since it was the one of the largest cities in the world. I knew how far it was spread out, how many people lived there. But I still wasn’t prepared to see block after block of shanty houses reaching as far as the eye could see. There was no land, just houses. Just city. Just people. No wonder Javier vetoed our disguises – if you couldn’t get lost in Mexico City, you couldn’t get lost anywhere.

“Do you even know where to find your sister?” I asked him as he took the car down a busy thoroughfare off of one of the many intersecting highways. Traffic was thick enough to cut with a butter knife. The humanity was spilling out the city’s pores, leaking everywhere with poor beggars sitting roadside and skinny-limbed children playing in black exhaust fumes.

“Of course I know where to find her,” he snapped. “She’s family.”

I bit my lip feeling slightly chagrined, then said, “When was the last time you were here?”

He didn’t say anything for a few moments, just laid on the horn at a car that had cut him off with no apology. “Violetta doesn’t live in the slums. She lives like she should. I’ll find her soon.”

Camden looked back at me and I raised my brows. I wasn’t going to argue with Javier about his sister, it just all seemed a bit impossible, especially without GPS.

“Camden could use his GPS,” I offered and was immediately shut down with an icy glare in the rear view mirror.

“Camden can go fuck himself,” Javier said, still looking at me. Camden didn’t bother reacting, only looked back out the window at the never-ending hills of buildings. There were a few skyscrapers in the middle of the city but beyond that it was just house after house after house. Shack after shack after shack. It took a lot of effort to keep another panic attack from coming on, that’s how … engulfing … the city was. It went on forever yet made you feel like you were trapped in a box.

We drove for quite a bit, never really making it anywhere, before he begrudgingly told Camden to enter in “301-1250 Calle Burnaby” into his GPS on his phone. To his credit, Camden did it without saying anything, though it was at least another forty-five minutes before we got to the place.

Javier might have said that his sister didn’t live in the slums, but she was at least surrounded by the slums. Or maybe that was the case everywhere in Mexico City. Her apartment building was white-washed and fairly clean-looking with underground parking and a concierge-type person I could see lurking behind the barred windows of the lobby. But on either side of the building were slum houses, mostly one-story, some two, rising up around it like weeds.

We managed to find parking across the street. Javier got out of the car and glanced at us.

“You wait here.”

“No fucking way,” Camden said, quickly getting out from his side. I followed, joining him on the broken sidewalk. “We’re going with you.”

Javier waved at us dismissively and kept walking across the road. Camden and I waited until it was safe – the drivers here were crazy – before trotting after him.

“So mistrusting,” Javier muttered to himself as we approached the building.

“How can we be so sure that your sister isn’t part of your little plan?” Camden asked.

Javier shot him an exasperated look. “She is the plan. Get her safe, get her out of Travis’s way.”

“And then you’re going to help us out of the goodness of your heart.”

He looked the building up and down, rubbing his hands together. “You’re not the only one who wants Travis dead. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“For revenge or so you can take over his cartel?” Camden asked.

Javier eyed him and smiled, teeth white against his bronzed skin. “Who says I can’t have both?”

“Even though it’s the same cartel that murdered your parents?” I dared to ask.

“There’s always room for improvement,” he said.

He went up to the building’s entrance and I was impressed to see it had a buzzer system. His finger trailed along the buttons until they paused at #301 Bernal. His shoulders rose and fell as if he were steadying himself before he held down the button. I knew, back in the day anyway, that Javier was fond of his sisters and had taken it upon himself to take care of them financially after his parents had been murdered by a rival cartel, the same cartel that Travis was now a part of, the same cartel that Javier suddenly had his sights on. Or maybe it wasn’t so sudden after all.

We waited for a few anxious moments, the ringing repeating until we heard a faint yet demanding “Hola?” over the intercom.

He shook his head and looked at us. “She shouldn’t even be answering this right now.” Then he faced back to the intercom and said, “Violetta, es Javier.” There was a longer pause and he added, “Tu hermano.”

“Javier?” she asked. “Que …?”

He quickly asked her to let him upstairs and after a few more heavy pauses the door buzzed open. He grabbed it and swung it open for us and marched inside the cool building, his dusty yet sharp shoes echoing on the tile floor, nodding quickly at the concierge who only briefly looked up from his newspaper, not even batting his eye at Camden’s blood-stained shirt. We walked past the elevator and went for the stairs, running up the flights until we got to the third floor.

We walked swiftly and quietly down the hall, stopping in front of #301.

Javier knocked quickly and took a step back from the door as it promptly swung open.

We were greeted by a large gun aimed at his head.

I automatically threw up my hands, though Javier barely even flinched. A slender young woman stood on the other side of the door, a large Beretta in her hands aimed right at him. Her eyes hadn’t even left his face to take me and Camden in, but one look at those golden green eyes of hers and it wasn’t hard to see she was related to Javier.

“Violetta,” Javier said calmly. He rattled off a question to her in Spanish with that smooth voice of his. Her gun never wavered, if anything her eyes narrowed even more. Finally she looked over his shoulder and spotted me and Camden. She frowned, lowered the gun and then jerked her head to follow her into the apartment.

Camden and I eyed each other nervously. I don’t know what I was expecting but I certainly wasn’t expecting this, particularly from someone that had to be in their late teens, early twenties. Then again, I guess I was handling guns at a young age too.

We walked into her apartment and Camden slowly closed the door behind us. It was quite large considering how much space seemed to be an issue in this city, with a terracotta-tiled floor, blue and white porcelain accents in the kitchen and large windows that looked out onto the sea of roofs. There was a room off to the side and I caught the sight of a rumpled bed and a large balcony beyond that. There were hair appliances and makeup and clothes strewn all over the place, cementing the fact that Violetta may have had a gun in her hands, but she was still a young girl.

She spun around in the middle of the room and suddenly slapped Javier clear across his face. I couldn’t help but suck in my breath, afraid of what Javier might do. But he merely took it as she started to rant at him in rapid-fire Spanish, throwing up her hands and launching what must have been a million obscenities.

Violetta really was a very beautiful woman, slim-limbed and around my height, 5′6″, with thick and long golden highlighted hair, dark olive skin and full lips, slightly slanted yellow-green eyes. She was wearing a summery dress that was cut short and had applied her makeup with a heavy hand.

When she was finally done, Javier retorted with a sentence or two, still succinct in his own language, and it wasn’t until I picked up on the words Eden White, that Violetta looked toward me.

She frowned and pointed my way, looking askance at Javier. “Eden?”

“Ellie,” he corrected her with a grim smile. “Her real name is Ellie. And she doesn’t speak Spanish, not that much, anyway.”

She stepped slowly toward me, her flip flops smacking against the tiles, and though I was very conscious of the gun in her hands, I stood my ground and looked her in the eye.

She smiled, playful and deceptive all at once. “So you are the famous Eden. You’re the one who broke my brother’s heart all those years ago.”

It took everything I had to keep from rolling my eyes. Of course I had been painted the villain. Of course Javier never bothered to fill his sister in on the fact that he was cheating on me with a woman he’d later end up beheading.

“I guess it depends on what side you hear,” I answered.

She smirked and took another step forward. I caught a whiff of her perfume, freesia and linen. Fresh. Out of place in this smog-filled super city.

“You know, for the longest time I swore I’d kill you if I ever saw you,” she said slowly, her accent barely audible. “I wanted to make you suffer for the pain you caused my brother. But, now I’m older. And I see how Javi is. The only thing I want to do is shake your hand.”

She put hers out for me to shake and I did so, surprised at the strength of her grip. She smiled and jerked it up and down. “I’m Violetta Bernal.”

“Ellie Watt,” I said, returning her smile. I nodded over my shoulder at Camden who was still by the door. “That’s Camden McQueen.”

Violetta looked at him, her eyes widening appreciatively. “Hello, Camden McQueen.” Then they went over to his shoulder. “What happened to your arm?”