A Fighting Chance (45 page)

“Drew is already in the car?” Ramón asks me. I almost run right into him when he appears at the bottom of the stairs.

I catch my balance and avoid colliding with him. “Yup,” I say. I’m surprised she didn’t offer to drive or just toss out the driver and get behind the wheel. She’s really preoccupied with whatever it is she gave Sandrine.

“Ah, well. I didn’t expect her to say goodbye.” He shrugs, disappointment shading his eyes. “I suppose you need your things now.”

“I do.” My heart rate kicks up as I trail him into his office. The real office. Without chair straps and hammers, thank God.

“Julián will put your money in the car,” Ramón says as he leans down to a safe, humming something that’s akin to Chinese water torture on my ears.
Can he turn the combo any fucking slower?
“Would you like to
stay
and count it?” It’s a joke, but an uneasy feeling spirals down my back.

I’d prefer a root canal without anesthesia.
“No,” I say with clenched teeth because my mouth can’t form a convincing smile. I don’t care if there are telephone books in that goddamn bag. I just want to go. Okay, maybe phone books and
some
money.

“Passports, IDs, phones,” he says as he stands up. He holds our stuff out to me, but jerks them back quickly, a curious smile on his lips. “Just tell me one thing, Jesse. Why? Why give this up? You’re good at it. I would pay you.
Really
pay you.”

I shake my head. The price is too high, even for him. “I got into fighting for all the wrong reasons. You’d be making me someone I’m not. A lot like what Francisco was trying to do to you.
Your dad.
In a different way, but you probably remember well what that felt like.”

He nods slowly. “Hm.” He can’t argue with that. But I hold my breath until he gives me our shit. Ramón pats me hard on the shoulder. “Well, take care of yourself, Jesse Chance.”

“You, too.” I reach the door in two strides and a henchman pulls it open.

“Before you go…” I gulp down my rising anxiety and freeze in place.
One more go round with the hammer, perhaps
? Ice clinks behind me and when I turn, he’s holding two curvy glasses and a bottle of bourbon. “Have a drink. You’re being driven back. Courtesy of me.” Yeah, I should be grateful for the post-kidnapping drop-off, but it’s not worth fighting over, so I take it after he pours.

“What are we toasting to?” he asks, raising his glass. I smile and shrug as I tap my glass to his.
Never having to ever see you again.
“How about to success…and to
El Americano
’s retirement.”

“Sounds good to me,” I say. Taken down in one gulp, the bourbon incinerates my insides on its way to my stomach.
“Well, take care.” I slam the glass on his desk and hurry out of the office. I don’t even wait for one of his goons to open the front door. I let myself out and hop into the back of the black Escalade with my entirely too jumpy girlfriend.

“It’s just me, baby…” I whisper, laughing. Her shoulders sink as her body relaxes against mine, but her eyes are clouded with concern. “We’ll be back in Mexico City soon enough.” I squeeze her hand between us.

“Can’t wait,” Drew breathes out. When the car exits through Ramón’s massive gate, she reins in some of her worry with a soft smile. My brave, beautiful girl. She’s such a trouper.

We bump down the dark road and then merge onto a coastal highway, the vibrant lights of Acapulco
softening behind us. Drew gets more comfortable the farther we travel, and eventually her head dips down to my shoulder as she falls asleep. I plug my phone into the backseat car charger, and send Sandrine a text to tell her that we’re on our way. She and Drew still have their unknown arrangement, and I’ll just have to wait until it’s safer to ask Drew about it. There’s one thing I can’t be patient about, though. Without any regard for what time it is in Glory, I call Henry Chance. Over the span of three rings, my anger flourishes.

“Hello?” he answers, either drunk or drowsy.

“You lied to me,” I bark. Drew stirs, and the driver’s gaze skates across the rearview mirror until it lands on me.

“Jesse? What are you talking about?”

“You lied to me about…
her
.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “There is no Ponzi scheme, is there? You just borrowed money from her, she got angry about it, and you needed me to pay it back.” When he doesn’t respond, I continue. “You said you had already paid her off. You said you needed
this
money to pay off the guys you borrowed it from. It was all a lie. I knew it…but I wanted to be wrong.” My pulse throbs in my ears. Henry’s prolonged silence only feeds my rage. But it’s not even really directed at him—it’s my disappointment in myself for wanting to believe him, to believe
in
him. “Hello?” I’m humiliated. And I’m…hurt. Genuinely. Really fucking deeply hurt. And yet it continues to surprise me. Time and time again. The feelings associated with pain are all this man will ever bring out of me. It may be his sole purpose in my life. “Henry, answer me.”

“I’m here, Jesse.”

“You used me to pay back a human trafficker? And it was far more than you actually owed her. Do you know what I’ve been through trying to help you, for Henry Junior’s sake? Our friend
died
over this. He was
killed
, Henry. So, what did you need that money for? You better fucking be
dying
and need an organ off the black market.”

He takes a few halting breaths. “Jesse…it’s late. Let’s talk in the morning. I’ll explain everything then.”

“Fuck you. When I get back, I’m filling Barbara in on
everything.
I’ll ask her if I can be in HJ’s life, but I want absolutely nothing to do with you anymore.”

****

Drew is standing in her underwear, looking back and forth between two dresses, and her still unpacked bag is vomiting clothes to the floor. Usually I find this outfit indecisiveness really cute, especially because she’s pretty much naked, but we have to leave. “Orange one,” I say, rolling over in bed.

“Which means I should wear the black one,” she says with a teasing tone. The orange dress lands on my face.

“Yes. You should wear it. As in,
put it on.
Now
.”

“You’re not even dressed!” Drew argues. With a smirk, I hop up and pull on my jeans and shirt in thirty seconds. “You’re an asshole,” she says, laughing.

“A dressed asshole, though.” I kiss her on the forehead before I grab the keys. “Come on, baby. We’re gonna be late meeting Sandrine, and we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.” Glory is eleven hours away. My plan is to get us to San Luis Potosi in six hours, where we can spend the night and then do the rest tomorrow. I grab her bag and mine, ignoring her complaints that she’s not done packing, and take them out to the car. It’s beautiful out—a sun-washed day where the light reflects off everything and stings the eyes. The duffel bag of money is in the trunk already, and instead of seeming like payment for my troubles, it seems more like the source. All of it has come from a bad place, and just how bad of a place is really starting to set in now that the fighting fog is clearing. I want some good to come of it because right now it may as well be a bag of blood.

I snap out of my thoughts when the passenger door slams shut as Drew gets in. We’re having lunch with Sandrine in Coyoacán at her favorite French bakery. I get in the car and pull off onto the highway without slowing to merge. I’ve mastered driving in this place now.

Drew cranks the radio to a station we’ve both grown very fond of, and she sings the wrong lyrics to a catchy Spanish song. I swear the girl likes anything that could be replaced with drunk cats crying. “What happens when we get back to Texas? With me and you?” she asks.

“Well, I want to be with you, obviously, Spark. So, after I figure out this school stuff, I go where you go.”

“Glory?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“No. Glory will always be important to me because it’s where I met you, and I wanted to make it a better place so you could come back there. But you don’t want to live there, so I go where you go.”

“Then we’ll figure it out in time, baby.” I should be happy. I should feel relieved. And I do. But an underlying suspicion has me on edge. It still doesn’t feel like freedom. I’m looking into the cars that pass by, looking at the ones that keep
up speed with us, and the ones that slow down behind us. Maybe I’m too used to things going horribly wrong now. But I just—

There.
“Do you see that black car? Like three cars down from us?” It’s the nicest one on the road, which is making it stand out for all the wrong reasons. “It keeps changing lanes every time we do.”

“Is it?” Drew turns around to look. “Oh, I see it. Dammit.
Dammit.
I knew this seemed too good to be true. You think it’s Ramón?”

“I don’t know. But it is following us, right?”

“Get off at the next exit and let the GPS reroute us…” Drew recommends. She’s still facing the back window. I swerve over, inciting a chorus of car horns, and then barrel to the exit, which puts us onto another highway.

“Did it come over, too?” I ask.

“I don’t see it,” she says with a nervous laugh, turning back to the front. “We’re overreacting. Ramón said he was keeping his word. I believe him.”

I glance up at the rearview and exhale harshly. Nothing. Okay
, I need to calm the fuck down. “So what the hell was in that envelope you…” I trail off when my gaze hits the rearview mirror again. “Fuck.” The same black car is there. “It’s following us still.” The driver maneuvers effortlessly across lanes, speeding up. I accelerate and zip to my left. The black car mimics me and moves over. My heart sinks.

“Can you outrun him?”

“Not the way I want to in this piece of shit,” I say, gunning it with another lane change. “Let’s go meet Sandrine and figure out a plan from there. They clearly want something from us, but I doubt they’ll do it publicly.” Actually, I don’t really know that, but I’m working on another idea. One that is already breaking my heart. “Call Sandrine and tell her we’ll be there in a few and we’ve got company.”

All the way to the
bakery, the black car is playing cat to our mouse. When we finally get to
Caramel
, it drives past while we park at the curb, and the windows are too tinted for me to see inside.

“Jesus,
” Sandrine says, stomping on her cigarette near the doorway. “Who is that?”

“We don’t know.” I usher them both inside and seat us at a table before the hostess can. Ramón? Friends of Carlos? The police? “Where are you parked?”

“On the other side of the street. There’s a lot over there.” Sandrine’s brow furrows. “Why? You want to fool them and take my car?”

“No, I’m sure whoever it is, is circling the restaurant.” I hand Sandrine my car keys. “Go outside, get Drew’s bag
—it’s pink—the guitar case, and the blue duffel. Transfer them to your car—”

“Why, Jess?” Drew cuts in, grabbing my wrist. The terrified expression on her face depresses me far more than I thought it would. “What are you doing?”

“They can only chase one of us, baby,” I say flatly.

She shakes her head as fury and betrayal burn in her eyes. “Nope. You are
not
going to do this. You are
not
.” Sandrine looks at me with a sad smile of acceptance as she stands up and heads for the door. “Sandrine, don’t do it. Please, don’t do it,” Drew calls after her. Sandrine’s steps slow for just a beat, but then she picks up her stride and walks out. “Jesse, please…I’m begging you. We can find another way. Please. I’m
begging
you.”

“
No. I have to. Let me be what you saw: the man stopping the monsters. Even if he has to make an ultimate sacrifice. Take the money and—”

“
Fuck the money.
”
Caramel
goes dead silent for a second. “No.”

“I’m not really giving you a choice
, Hallisay. They’re here for me. We both know that. And whatever is about to happen will either happen when you’re with me or they’ll do it while you’re getting away. But I can’t help you if I’m dead.”

Sandrine comes back into the restaurant and nods solemnly at me as she tosses the keys across the table. “The car
is
circling. We have to go,” she says, but Drew doesn’t budge.

“I hate you. I hate you so much,”
Drew says to me. “We were so fucking close. So close.” When I go to the other side of the table, she breaks down in tears, wrapping her arms around my neck and crying into my shoulder.

“
I’ll be okay.” I whisper because I can’t keep the doubt out of my tone. “You will
always
be my forever, Drew Hallisay, no matter—”

“Don’t you ever fucking talk like that,” she says, too teary to really sound angry.

“No matter where I am. No matter
what
I am, flesh or dust, I love you.
Always will.
But you have to go now.” I look up at Sandrine and there are tears in her eyes, too. “Get her as close to the border as you can.”