The Cartel (2 page)

Javier shook his head. “Come on, Cabrón. Do you really think the Italian mafia will allow us into their world?”

Antonio shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if they welcome us with open arms. I don’t think they’ll be pleased to have any kind of competition. We don’t need them.”

“Aren’t you afraid of death? They are ruthless men. The world knows this.”

“I fear nothing, my dear friend. If I did, I would’ve been dead long ago. Besides, what we deal in does not hold interest for the Italians. And by the time they do discover us and what we have to offer, they’ll want to do business with us because they’ll have to if they want to get involved. For now though, I have no intention on dealing with the Italians. I want to get ahead of the game. However, we must move quietly lest we provoke their interest and they learn of the amount of money there is to be made. Go about this the right way, and they’ll leave us alone. For now.”

Javier wasn’t so sure. He’d heard a great many stories about the Mafioso, and regardless of what Antonio said, he knew that they did have an interest in the drug trade. But he would continue to do as he always did and follow Antonio’s lead, hoping it would all turn out as fruitful as his friend guaranteed him.

****

Antonio poured himself a shifter of Bourbon. He paced the floor of the guesthouse, and looked again at the clock. She was late.

He tossed back his drink, heat rising to his face, and he thought twice before pouring another. Dulling his senses was not what he wanted to do. No. Feeling every sensation, every nerve come alive as he touched her beautiful skin was his desire.
Feeling
was what he loved about being with Marta.

In an attempt to deny his need for her, Antonio stretched out on the downy sheets-- white, satin. Cynthia hadn’t missed a thing when putting a luxurious vacation home together for Javier. Even the guesthouse had the best that money could buy.

A faint tap on the door catapulted Antonio out of bed. He stopped himself. He had to regain his composure; never let her know exactly how much she meant to him. He straightened his black silk pajamas, casually turned the knob, and pulled the door open.

There she stood. So lovely. The jasmine scented perfume that he’d given her on a previous visit enveloped his senses. It was indeed heavenly, a seductive intoxication. He shuddered inside as his hungry eyes absorbed the vision before him. She was indeed beautiful, clad in a flowing, light pink dress that only emphasized her essential purity. He could barely control himself, wanting to take the dinner tray from her and toss it aside and devour her instead. “Come in,” he said, not liking the unmistakable anxiety in his voice. What kind of spell did this woman have over him?

She stepped over the threshold, moving to the coffee table where she set down his dinner and a bottle of wine. Antonio stood behind her and touched his lips ever so softly to the nape of her neck. It was useless continuing to try and control his passion. It was useless for her as well. She turned, her dark eyes hungry for him, she embraced him. Their bodies merged as he took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers.

“I’ve missed you, Antonio,” she whispered, her voice like dew on morning leaves, soft, gentle, sweet.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“When can we be together? How much longer do we have to wait? And
why
do I have to wait? I do not understand this, Antonio. I know I am only a servant, but we’re in love. You’ve said so a hundred times, and you’ve promised me that we would be together.”

“It is far more difficult than you can understand,” Antonio replied, not ready to delve into the politics of their relationship. He had one desire here.

“I’m not a stupid woman, Antonio. I may be young and therefore not wise in the ways of the world, as you’ve enjoyed reminding me.” She smiled coyly. “But I am far from ignorant, and I am very confused at the length of time it has taken for us to be together. I need you.” She pouted, her full lips making her completely irresistible.

He held her by her shoulders. “Soon, my sweet. All that I have will soon be yours.” He sealed this lie with a long, deep kiss, and all her doubts seemed to disappear as she smiled, her face relaxing, and trust for him filling her eyes. His heart beat hard against his chest, not only filled with passion, but with guilt and panic, as well. How could he continue this?

Marta accepted both his lies and his desire and let her dress fall to the floor, exposing her delicate figure. Antonio took her up into his arms and positioned her on the bed. Their touching became feverish, quickly establishing a bond of intimacy.

Like a panther that had captured his prey, Antonio’s passion was so intense that Marta could do nothing except surrender to his overwhelming sensuality. Starting with her mouth, he reacquainted himself with every inch of her. His tongue trailed past her neck, finding her breasts waiting. Quickly reacting to his touch, her nipples grew hard and she arched her back, aching for more. As his mouth devoured her breasts, Antonio’s hand worked its way with slow expertise between Marta’s thighs. She moaned when his fingers found her moist skin, and she dug her nails into his shoulders as he worked his hand against her. Then, when her arousal became overwhelming, Antonio heard the change in her breathing that signaled she needed more. He could tell by her trembling how much she needed the weight of his body pressed against hers, the feeling of him moving inside her, and the immeasurable pleasure he would bring to her. His firm masculinity replaced his fingers as he went on to sate both their erotic appetites. Later, when their desires were fully quenched, they clung together in the tangled sheets.

“I love you, Antonio Espinoza. I promise to always love you.”

Antonio didn’t have the heart to reply, knowing that any promises he had already made were futile.

Maria danced around her small quarters humming a tune she’d heard on Señora Rodriguez’s phonograph earlier that day. Normally, giving up her free evening to work was an annoyance she didn’t like to give in to, but tonight was different. Two months had passed since Marta had last seen Antonio. She flitted around now, excited at the prospect of seeing him again.
Tonight
. Yes, tonight their lives would be changed forever.

The late afternoon sun sent rays of light through her window, making the hut feel less dim. Pictures of the Virgin Mary and Jesus hung on the walls. She turned away from Christ on the cross hanging over her bed and her stomach sank. The guilt stung her knowing that she was living a life of sin by continuing a sexual relationship with Antonio outside of marriage vows. But she knew in her heart that their love was far deeper than simply lying together. They loved each other deeply. And how could God frown on that? He would forgive her.
Especially now
. She crossed herself.

She looked around the room she’d shared with her roommate Josefina for the last two years, since she was fifteen. It was worn with time, but they had done their best to fix it up, putting down bright colored rugs and drapes they’d sewn for the windows. The servant quarters sat below one of the cliffs on the north side of the estate. The village was not large and the Rodriguez vacation villa stood out on top of the hill overlooking the coastline. There were some smaller huts close to the beach and a restaurant that serviced the area where many of the workers from the estate would get together in the evenings for camaraderie. There was only one way in and one way out of the area and it was by boat.

The villagers would take pongas in to Costa Careyes for supplies on a daily basis. The trip down the coast lasted about forty-five minutes. If Señor Rodriguez or his wife wanted to return to their main home in the city, they were taken by luxury yacht. They stayed in their vacation home usually about half of the month, but lately Señora had been staying the entire month to help take care of her dying father-in-law, who preferred the vacation home.

Marta cared deeply for Señora Rodriguez because the woman was compassionate and because she took an interest in both her and Josefina as human beings rather than simply servants.

Marta would miss La Señora when she left, but the knowledge of coming to visit her on Antonio’s arm filled her, knowing that they would talk like old friends—knowing that no longer would she be on the level of a servant and that there would no longer be a need to hide their friendship from Señor Rodriguez. And like Señora Rodriguez, Marta knew she would be able to wear the finest jewels, along with the best clothes. She would have the best, like her
friend
, Señora Rodriguez and she would soon be able to call her Cynthia.

Marta went over to her dresser and mirror, to pick up the silver brush Antonio had brought to her on his last visit. He was always so gracious and giving. The soft bristles moving through her long hair, reminded her of Antonio’s graceful fingers running through it. Oh how she loved that, and she loved the fact that within a few hours she would be telling her lover the exciting news. She knew his eyes would shine brightly with pride and pleasure. Hopefully the baby would look like him, a son—a boy would mean everything to him. A son to solidify their love.

Oh! And how shocked her parents would be when they learned that their daughter, the one who had fled their home in shame and fear, was married to a great man like Antonio Espinoza. Certainly they’d want to be a part of her life then. But they did not have the right anymore. She had a new family, one she was creating, and one she would love with a fierceness and the protection her parents had denied her. She would soon prove to them and the rest of the world that she was destined to be far more than a lowly servant.

The middle child of three, Marta had always felt like the odd one. The other two were boys, which automatically made them worth more in the eyes of her family and her culture. Her parents never paid much attention to her, unless they were taking the time to tell her how stupid and useless she was.

She recalled with vividness the day she’d left home--her
quincieñera
, her fifteenth birthday. It was tradition and although her parents didn’t have much use for her, they did like parties, and she knew that, if anything, it would be a good excuse for them to visit with family and friends to drink large quantities of beer and wine. Marta had known that it wouldn’t be a fancy party like those who had wealth and prestige. Yet she looked forward to it, like most girls in Mexico did. It symbolized the crossing over from a child into womanhood.

But when the time came and there was no party, no celebration of her most special birthday, with an aching heart, Marta in tears, questioned her grandmother who had no choice but to tell her the truth.

“Oh Mija, I knew one day you would need to be told, and now it happens that it is on the day that should be most special in your life.” The older woman reached her gnarled hands out and stroked the ends of Marta’s hair.

Marta shrank back, not liking the sadness in her grandmother’s voice. She had been the one person to love her throughout her life, never bullying or belittling.

“I told your mother I thought it was wrong to ignore this day, no matter the circumstance of your conception.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sit down closer to me.” Her grandmother patted the side of her creaking old bed. Marta did as she was told. Her grandmother sighed, the lines around her eyes deepening and her lips tightened. “Your Papa is not truly your father.” Marta felt her mouth drop open, not totally understanding the words she was hearing. But soon the picture became clear. “Your mother suffered a great tragedy at the hands of an enemy of your papa’s when he took her dignity away. You were born nine months later.”

Her grandmother went on to explain, but to Marta it was a jumble of words. She understood dignity and enemies and the significance of nine months. Her grandmother went on to say something about her papa being a good Catholic and vowing to raise Marta as his own. It was so apparent now why the ambivalence and, at times, anger was harshly directed at her from her parents. She was evil in their eyes. Created from evil.

“I must go,” she heard herself say to her grandmother. “Now that I know this, I cannot stay here. They will see that you have told me and they will treat me even more harshly.”

The old woman nodded and handed her a small amount of money, likely all that she had. Kissing her grandmother on her weathered cheek, she thanked her for the gift of both the money and the truth and gathered her few belongings. She then left the only home she’d known.

She discovered through a friend that the Rodriguez family was hiring servants at that time, and so she made her way to the great rancho and hacienda where she pleaded for the job and was hired to work at the villa on the coast. She was taken out by ponga and had been on the small stretch of beach for two and a half years now.

Antonio entered her life a year ago when he came to the villa to meet with Señor Rodriguez on business. He took her aside one night and told her how beautiful she was. Smitten with him from that moment on, he soon consumed her every waking thought.

Now, as she donned her pressed uniform, the one reserved for parties, Marta heard the engines of Señor Rodriguez’s yacht approaching. She knew that Antonio was on the boat. The thrill of the coming evening with Antonio caused her to fumble with the buttons on her blouse. Tonight in her lover’s arms, she planned to tell him the wonderful news. News that she’d been keeping locked tightly inside for an entire month, except for telling her roommate and friend Josefina.