Punished (Calavera Hotels #1)

Chapter Five Adrian

I’m finally fucking free. I walk out to see Patricio standing in front of his Rolls Royce Phantom. He wears a designer suit with his hair slicked back, facial hair trimmed, and rings covering his tattooed knuckles. I flick the cigarette I had been smoking and stand, grabbing ahold of what little I have to leave with. In the six years I stayed locked up, I never once imagined this was how I would leave. In a Rolls Royce with my estranged uncle who makes seven figures running a hotel and laundering money for the cartel.

Three years ago, when he came looking for me, I had no idea what I would be getting myself into. My mother had gone into one of her drug binges after I was sentenced, so I hadn’t seen or heard from her, and I had been worried she was finally losing the battle to her addiction. The longer she went without visiting me, the more anxious I became that I would receive a call about her death.

A part of me had hoped it would be her on the other end of the glass when they told me I had a visitor that day. I had created a coping mechanism as a kid, when I first noticed my mom was an addict. Instead of worrying about what she was doing, I would imagine her safe, checking herself into rehab. After a while, I stopped lying to myself and found other ways to cope. I had to take care of myself and keep a roof over our heads.

When I got up to the window, I had looked up to see a face I didn’t recognize at the time.

I pick up the phone.

“Adriano, my name is Patricio Consuelo. I am your biological uncle, and I have been looking for you. There is a long history, but if you are willing to trust me, I think I have a way to get you out of here.”

A part of me had wanted to hang up on the son of a bitch. The brokenness in me wanted to tell him and his entire family to fuck off. Everyone in Houston knew about Calavera Hotels and the family was notorious for the wealth they had accumulated over the years. I was confused. My mother had told me she didn’t know who my father was, and that’s why I had her maiden name as my last name. None of it made any sense .

“Why isn’t my father here?” I ask.

Patricio’s eyes are blank. He stares back at me pausing for a moment.

“In time, I will tell you everything you want to know. My brother was not a good man, and everything your mother and you suffered was a direct attack towards me. It’s not my story to tell, and when we find your mother, I will give her the opportunity to tell you. She deserves that.”

I respected him for telling me what he could. Over the course of my remaining time at FDC, I found it easy to confide in Patricio. He would pass what he could to me through Izeiah, one of the guards, who he had strategically placed on the inside. I had spoken with him about Bryan and asked him to find out all the information regarding my case, so when I got out, I could get my revenge.

“Adriano,” Patricio says with a nod as he opens the back door for me, and my focus comes back to the present.

I nod back, then get in the back seat. I hope he wasn’t expecting a hug or some sentiment, as our relationship was always through a piece of glass. I just spent six years with nothing but men, and the last thing I want is a hug. Thankfully, he sticks out his hand, and I return the gesture to greet him.

Once we are in the car, he instructs his driver to take us to the hotel, where he has set me up in one of the vacant penthouses.

“I have all your parole documents set to your new home address at the hotel, and I have listed your occupation as maintenance.”

I laugh at the word. Maintenance. This is his subtle way of letting me know I’ll be Conejo’s right hand bitch, but whatever has to be done to convince my parole officers I am blending into society.

“I have something else for you,” he says and pulls out two manilla envelopes and hands them to me.

“What’s this?”

“The first one is several properties we’ll need to strategically take down to see if your mother is a part of their human trafficking ring. The second is Bryan’s alibi from the night he set you up.”

Curious, I open the first folder. A bunch of addresses and photos of the people who own the homes. I’ll go over them more tomorrow. I open the second folder and stop when I see her. Mireya Torres. I’m not surprised she was his alibi. I always suspected it to be her, but a part of me thought she would never do that to me. Another coping mechanism, I guess. I am surprised to see her after all this time. The pictures are from a distance, but I notice her immediately. Her body has matured with time. She’s standing with a phone in her hand as she bends down to scribble on to a notepad. The angle forcing her shirt up a little and her ass popped out. Other pictures show her in scrubs, coming out of the hospital. I had read in the file that she was in nursing school. She spends the mornings at school and then spends her evenings working the front desk at the hotel. A few pictures are from hotel events, one of her in a short black spaghetti- strap dress, laughing with her friends. Her smooth legs on display. Something in me wants to beat the shit out of whoever took these pictures of her, but I have to remind myself she is not anything to me. She is my enemy.

I sit there examining the photos a little bit longer. I like the ones of her working. She still wears her hair long, straightened down to the middle of her back and her makeup is simple. She looks professional in her all-black uniform, but the Cortez shoes, the big hoops, and lined lips still scream of the hood we grew up in.

She had always been mine. The day I saw her walking home from school and some kids were picking on her, I beat all their asses. She was an escape from all the shit I had going on in my house. We never got past making out and dry humping in her bedroom while her parents were gone. Even if our love was young and innocent, it felt real to me at that time. I have no idea who the girl in these pictures is anymore .

“Do you know her?” Patricio asks, taking in my intense observation.

“She’s my ex-girlfriend,” I say as I put the pictures back and look out the window.

“She works for us at the hotel. She’s a good worker and Thalia’s best friend. I like her, but I won’t make excuses for her. I won’t deny you your revenge. The choice is yours about what you want to do with her. Her address, school, acquaintances, and schedule are all in the envelope.”

I wasn’t sure how or when, but the decision was easy. The more I think about her and Bryan, the more I want to wreak havoc on her perfect little life. I want to punish her.