“What’s happening?” I cried out. “Why are you doing this to Miguel?”
Javier looked to Alex. “Take her to our room, please.”
Alex turned and grabbed my arms. I tried to shake him off but his grip tightened.
“Let me go! Get off of me!”
“Now!” Javier yelled at him, his eyes not even meeting mine.
Alex began to push me down the hall. I fought against him, not wanting to be put away, to be shut out. If he was going to bring this into our house, if he was going get me involved, then I was going to see all of it.
“He’s like your brother, Javier!” I screamed, trying to twist out of Alex’s hands. “You can’t hurt him.”
I didn’t understand how this could be happening. Miguel was one of the good guys. He was friendly and personable and I liked him. I liked him. He and Javier had been through so much together, and now he was nothing more to him than a pig about to be slaughtered. And what for?
I was facing the bedroom, unable to see behind me when I heard a smack, palm against skin, and Javier roared, “He is no brother of mine! No friend of mine would betray me, would betray the family! He turned his back, he spurned me, and he deserves…nothing but death!?” His voice growled over the last words, more monster than anything. “I should keep you suffering for this, cut off all your toes and feed them to you. But I am not an animal. I am not like you, my dear Miguel.”
Alex had almost shoved me in the room when I was able to turn around and get one last glimpse. Javier was bending over Miguel, his eyes fastened on his, so close, so menacing. I knew those eyes would be the last thing Miguel would see and I didn’t wish it on anyone. He whispered a few things in Spanish to him, deadly but poetic, then I was shoved in the room.
I flung myself at the door, trying to open it, but Alex was on the other side, holding it shut. It was too late. With my ear pressed against it the door, I heard the swipe of a blade, liquid splattering amidst a gurgling sound. Then nothing.
I collapsed to a ball on the floor, shaking from fear, from the horror. I didn’t have to see it to know what happened. To know that Miguel was sitting out there, slumped in his chair, a curtain of blood beneath his chin. I could see it in my mind, clear as day. And I could see Javier’s face. Cold and impersonal. Another job completed.
I tried crying but the tears wouldn’t come. I was hit with clarity instead. I couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t safe. I didn’t know who that man was out there, but he wasn’t my Javier. And I didn’t trust him.
I got up and slipped on a sweatshirt that hung behind the door. I could feel that Alex was still on the other side guarding it. This was good. He was occupied and the others would be cleaning up the mess, or perhaps Javier was calling in his clean-up team because he couldn’t stand to get his hands dirty; he couldn’t stand it if the blood he spilled got on him.
I grabbed my purse and slipped on a pair of running shoes, and as silently as possible, opened the bedroom window and climbed out into the night sky. I landed softly on the porch and crept down the stairs to the garage, glad that the waves were louder now and drowning out the sound of my escape.
I opened the door of my truck and quickly checked in the back for a small duffel bag I kept on the floor. I had always told Javier it was a change of clothes for my job. And sometimes it was. But its real purpose was to provide me with a getaway, a clean start and a new life. Gus had insisted I have one and I was glad I listened. It contained another set of fake IDs, extra license plates, a bunch of cash, and, yes, a change of clothes.
I took in a deep breath, my brain unable to let go of the panic and the fear. I was probably making a stupid move, emotions controlling my actions. But there was a dead man in my house, and at the moment, that’s all I needed to run.
Knowing the others would hear me right away, I started the car and quickly reversed out of the garage like a bat out of hell. I spun the car around once I hit the road and then popped it in drive. I pressed down on the gas pedal like my life depended on it—and it might have.
I drove and drove and drove until I crossed the state line into Florida. My cell phone was left in the house, which was just as well. I had erased every text message I ever shared with Gus, so there was no trail if he examined it—and he would—leaving only texts from him and Julie. But Gus, I needed to talk to him, more now than ever. It had been eight months since we last spoke and I knew ‘I told you so’ wouldn’t cut it.
But told me so about what? That I fell in love with the wrong man? That some people aren’t worthy of love at all? Who was anyone to decide that? I loved Javier, despite the fact that I was running. I couldn’t ignore it, it just made things harder.
The sun was rising as I checked into a motel outside of Defuniak Springs. I collapsed onto the bed and fell promptly asleep; even visions of Miguel’s blood weren’t enough to keep me conscious.
When I finally woke only a few hours later, I was tangled in the stiff motel sheets, the fan whirring slowly above my head. I rolled over on my back and watched it as the blade looped around. What had I done? I had panicked and run. I had left everything behind without even thinking it through.
Could I go back to him? Would he even take me? I was beginning to sound like a mental patient, sick in the head. It’s funny what love can do to a person. It strips them of everything, even their instincts. It creates a new reality for you to adhere to, a new world where you break the rules just to keep the love intact.
I couldn’t figure it out on my own. Love made me weak and it made me scared. The motel room felt like a prison cell, not freedom. I leaned over and picked up the sticky rotary phone and dialed Gus’s number.
“Hello?” he answered, sounding cautious.
“Gus,” I whimpered.
“Ellie? Ellie, are you okay? Why are you calling from Florida?”
I sunk to the floor with the phone at my ear and started to cry.
“Ellie, please…talk to me. Are you hurt?”
I sniffed hard, wiping my nose with my sleeve. “Gus, I made a mistake.”
“That’s okay, it happens. What did you do?”
I sobbed. “I don’t know, I’ve made so many. I don’t know the right thing anymore.”
“Ellie, where are you?”
“Please stop calling me Ellie,” I said.