Shooting Scars

The tattoo on my arm itched.

We drove on. By the time the album was over, I felt dirty and squirmy and we were in Alvarado, driving down another narrow street that coasted along the shore. The fish shop that would be our headquarters was two stories, set at the start of a concrete pier that jutted out to sea, a few aging fishing boats moored along it.

Javier and his men exited the vehicle with ease and headed right for the shop. They didn’t look around them to see if they were being watched or if anyone was eyeing them suspiciously. They were a bunch of men wanting fish. I sat in the car a few moments longer, enjoying the safety of the glass, before I spotted Javier waving me to come over.

The bell jangled loudly above my head as I entered the shop. He wasn’t kidding about the smell. It was an actual working business, with rows of different colored fish all lying flat on ice. Raul was talking to a small, deeply tanned elderly man behind the counter, the fishmonger.

Javier came over to me and placed his hand at my back, leading me forward. I could feel his warmth through the flimsy fabric of my dress.

“Ellie, this is Pedro,” he said, politely introducing me.

Pedro showed me his hands, full of fish guts, and shot me an apologetic look. “Sorry, I no speak much English.”

“Eso no es problema,” I told him with a smile and hoped he wouldn’t assume I was fluent. “Hablo un poco de español.”

“Impressive,” Javier whispered into my ear. “What else have you picked up?”

I hid the shiver that rolled down my neck by telling Pedro he had a very lovely shop. That seemed to please him and it got me out of Javier’s grasp as Pedro began to show me the scales on one of the red snappers.

Pedro was one of Javier’s father’s friends from way back in the day and had no problems with letting us stay there. In fact, it was common as the upstairs of the shop was constantly used as a hotel of sorts for the Sinoloa cartel members who were trying to gain the upper hand in Veracruz. Javier told me Pedro often stayed down the street with his daughter when they took over his shop, working during the day and minding his own business.

He led us upstairs which was a lot more substantial than it looked on the outside. There was a small living area/dining room and a large balcony overlooking the beach and harbor, complete with another table, chairs and a grill. The kitchen was tiny but functional. There was one small bathroom and two bedrooms.

“I guess I’ll take the couch,” I said, eyeing the tiny loveseat adorned with a white fringe shawl.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Javier said, gesturing to the bigger bedroom. “You’re staying with me.”

My eyes widened and a flash of heat went up my legs. “I don’t think so.”

He gave me a wry look. “Would you rather sleep with Raul or Peter?”

“I’ll take Peter,” I said automatically. Peter blushed and quickly went into the other room.

Javier grabbed my hand. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to.”

I glared at him. “There’s nothing wrong with the couch. Perhaps you should sleep there.”

“Perhaps I’m not that much of a gentleman,” he said with a cock of his head.

Understatement of the century, I thought. Then I realized he was still holding my hand. He noticed my eyes and let go.

“We’ll have to get your things later tonight. It looks a bit too strange if someone were to see us moving our shit in here. When it gets dark, we’ll get the bags. Until then,” he gestured to the rest of the house. “Get a beer and relax.”

“I think I might,” I said, wanting to get away from Javier and any talk about a bedroom. I went to the kitchen and got a beer, settling on the balcony. The sea breeze was wonderful, even if it was bringing up the occasional waft of fish. I sat back and waited for something to happen. Something more than just me sitting on the balcony of a cartel’s hideout, sipping a beer and watching the pelicans fly.

I went back inside the house when I was done with my drink and noticed Raul sitting silently on the loveseat, staring into space. I grabbed another beer from the tiny fridge and when I turned around, he was right behind me.

I let out a small gasp of surprise and nearly dropped the bottle. How the hell did he move so fast?

“Ellie,” he said, as if my name felt good to say. “Have you given anymore thought to your predicament?”

I frowned. “Where’s Javier?”

“Your lover has left.”

“He’s not my lover,” I said nastily. “You should know this.” Then a thread of fear ran through me. I swallowed it down. “Where did he go?”

“He went into town with Peter. They had business to conduct.”

“Well, okay then,” I said and tried to walk around him. He blocked me. I gripped the bottle tighter, more than prepared to waste a beer on his head.

He leaned in close. “You say he’s not your lover. I believe you. He doesn’t speak very favorably about you, you know.”

I refused to look away, his beady little eyes spearing me. “I don’t speak very favorably about him. So it’s fair.”

“None of this is fair,” he sneered. “Think about it, Ellie. He’s getting you do to his dirty work. Don’t you think there are other people who can better handle this for him?”

“Maybe they aren’t as invested.”

He took another step closer, his pelvis almost pressed against mine. I raised my drink in the air. “Don’t come any closer.”

“I’m only trying to help you,” he said with false humility. “I don’t want you getting hurt. There’s far more to this than he will let you know. It’s sad how fucking blind you are.”

My face fell. I couldn’t help it. Raul obviously had an agenda, perhaps to overthrow Javier, I couldn’t be sure. At the same time, I felt like I had to agree with Raul, that I was probably blind and kept in the dark. I also didn’t trust him. In fact, if Pedro wasn’t downstairs working and it wasn’t bright daylight outside, I would have thought I was in big, big trouble. I made a mental note to never be left with Raul alone again.

“Piss off,” I said, pushing him out of the way with my shoulder. “And if you ever come that close to me again, I’m telling him everything you said.”

“He wouldn’t believe you.” But he looked worried when he said it.

“I’d like to find that out for myself.” I went over to the balcony and closed the sliding door behind me. I wished I could have locked the door from the outside, so I could keep him out.

I drank my beer and every so often I’d turn my attention away from the sea and look at the sliding glass door. I could see my reflection, looking positively languid in the sun, and beyond that, inside, Raul on the couch. Constantly watching me.

Once darkness fell, Peter brought up everyone’s bags and I got settled in our room. Javier had returned just before dinner, fresh fish from Pedro, but wouldn’t tell me where they went, other than it was some stuff he had to work out. It was naturally vague but now I couldn’t help but think about what Raul said. How many things was I kept in the dark about?

When I put a few long dresses, light jackets and a nice tunic on the spindly hangers and shoved my duffel bag under the bed, I caught Javier walking past the room, heading downstairs to the shop.

“Javier,” I called out.

He poked his head back around the door, brows raised. For a very quick moment he looked like the boy I used to know. Or the boy that I never really knew.

“Can I have a moment?”

I don’t know why I was being so polite but I was.

He came in, nodding, eyes curious and concerned. “Of course you can. What’s wrong?”

I guess he was being polite too.

I eyed the door, jerking my chin for him to close it, to give us privacy. He tilted his head, then shook it, his attention going to the wall. Raul and Peter were in their room and perhaps the walls were far too thin for whatever he thought I was going to talk to him about.

“I was actually going to go up the street to get more beer,” he said somewhat loudly. “Someone’s drank most of the supply. Want to come with me?”

I nodded, grabbing a jean jacket from the closet and followed him down the stairs and through the triple locks of the shop door. We hopped in the Range Rover and sped off down the road. The Let Love In album started playing again. I reached over and turned down the volume.

After we’d passed a couple of convenience stores and supermarkets, I said, “I thought you needed beer.”

“We’ll get it on the way back. We’re going to Veracruz.”

I felt jarred. “Right now? It’s night.” I wasn’t ready for this.

“Best time to go. I won’t be easily spotted. It’s a large city you know. Half a million people and a lot of them look like me.”

“I doubt that,” I said despite myself.

He let out a low laugh. “You still think me handsome, Ellie?”

I shouldn’t have looked over at him, like I was actually considering the question, but I did. And then I started considering the question. He was handsome, maybe even more so than he once was. He was almost thirty now and the age gave him power, his features more defined, his confidence off the charts. It was a dangerous combination and a dangerous question.

“I can see how a lot of women would find you very attractive,” I said as detachedly as possible.

“Oh, very attractive. I like that, I like that.” He smiled at me, eyes puppy dog. “You know if you’re not careful with me, we could fall back into old tricks.”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

He pressed his lips together. “I told you before, this is an evolution. For both of us.”

I wiped my hand on the length of my dress. “I don’t think you know much about evolving.”

“You’ll see. Now, I’m sure you didn’t want to discuss my looks with me, so what is it that you wanted to talk about?” His voice was clipped now, all business.

“Raul told me some things …”

“Of course he did,” he said easily but I could see his knuckles becoming more defined as he gripped the wheel. “What did he tell you?”

“That I was blind and kept in the dark and that I was going to get hurt.”

“I see.”

“I don’t trust him. Do you?”

“I don’t trust anyone,” he answered. “It’s what has kept me alive. I’d say you follow the same creed as me.”

“I trusted Camden,” I said, bracing for the impact.

It came slowly, the frustration seething off of him like smoke. His teeth clanked together as he bit down, jaw grinding. He waited one long agonizing minute before speaking, more to gather his anger than keep me in anticipation.

“Camden is your past,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I am your future.”

“You are my past. Camden is my future.”

“Camden,” he said, voice rising, “is gone. He is gone, Ellie. He has his family, the family I gave back to him. He has moved on. You need to move on too. Weak people hang on to the ‘what could have beens.’ Strong people build a new future. Whatever … thing … you two shared, it’s over. He may have his tattoo on you but so do I.”