Punished (Calavera Hotels #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three Adrian

“He did what?” I growl. Mireya is still trying to act unbothered about the entire situation, but I could tell the moment she walked in that she was not okay. I let her tend to my wounds and the sex for a distraction, but we aren’t going to avoid the tough shit. Avoidance is the main ingredient in an unhappy relationship. Why the fuck am I even thinking about a relationship?

She looks down and moves her food around in her bowl, avoiding my question. I walk towards her and grab her chin, forcing her to look at me.

“Tell me what happened with Bryan.” Her lips tremble and she looks away.

“What did he do to you?” I move to face her and take her hands in mine. I had forgotten how weird she gets when it comes to crying. When we were younger, she would hold it in or get up and leave as soon as she saw something that made her emotional. It was a good thing, I guess, for her profession, but not with me.

“Tell me what happened, so I can fix it,” I say, and I mean it. She is nervous, but once the first tear falls down her cheek, she opens up. Telling me about the sick and fucked up ways he would make her pay off his debts, or humiliate her so he could show off to his friends.

He’s a fucking little bitch. Any man who has to degrade a woman to show his authority is really just a fucking coward. He can’t stand up to someone he knows would beat his ass, so he preys on those who are weak. I hate myself because I made her weak when I left her. All the bullshit I spat out, thinking I was helping her, just made her weak so that fucker could take advantage of her.

“Noone is ever going to hurt you again.” I move my chair to her and pull her into me. She lets go of her need to hold it all in and cries into my chest. I refuse to shatter her soul again. I would much rather stick a knife through my heart. She doesn’t need to say what I can see in her eyes when she pulls away from me. Hypocrite.

“There was a time in my life that I felt too damaged for you. I never saw breaking up with you as hurting you. I saw where you were going and the potential you had to be something. I didn’t want the darkness that had sucked me in to follow you and suck you in, too.” This time, it’s me who’s looking away, afraid to let her see that vulnerable part of me.

“I am never going to be the right man for you, but I can’t stop whatever this is.” My darkness would consume her. I know she will eventually see the monster I am and leave, but for right now, I need her to stay here with me. I slide my knuckle up her cheek and catch a fresh tear.

“I’m not afraid of your darkness,” she whispers, her lips inches from mine. “We both failed each other. I made mistakes, too, but I don’t want to lose you.” Her hands are around my shoulders as her fingertips graze the base of my neck, caressing lightly. She leans in to kiss me, and I kiss her again, softer.

I want her to see this side of me. Let her see I can be her punisher and her healer. She needs to understand this balance. I’m willing to give her all of me. The light and the dark. The soft and the deranged.

She can’t have the past version of me that she clings to without seeing the person I’ve become. I hold her in my arms a little longer before we make our way back to the bedroom. I pull the comforter back and move in next to her, pulling her into me and inhaling that sweet vanilla scent. I play with her hair until she falls asleep, and before I meet her there, I make a mental reminder to fuck Bryan’s life up as soon as possible.

I ’m waiting in the hotel lobby for Ricky to pick me up. Patricio texted to say he needs to talk in person, summoning me to his estate, which pissed me off because it means I won’t be able to see Mireya tonight.

She has stayed the night every night this week. We’ve grown into a comfortable routine. Every night, she comes over, we eat dinner together, watch tv, and spend the night infused in each other. I even wake up early to drive her to her morning classes.

After Patricio ruined my night with his request to see me, I told her to take my truck and catch a ride home with Alma after work. I wasn’t sure whether I would be home or not, and I didn’t want her alone at the penthouse.

Mireya: Did I sleepwalk last night? (teeth clenching emoji)

Adrian: No. But if you ask me to fuck you again while sleepwalking, I’m going for it .

I already filled her in about the first night she stayed in my apartment, when she turned into a sex-deprived zombie. At first, she was embarrassed, but she admitted she wanted to try it. My little slut was aroused by the idea of me fucking her while she was asleep.

Mireya: You have no shame!

Adrian: Sleeping Beauty didn’t mind.

She sends a Ted Bundy gif, and I can’t help but laugh before I throw my phone in my pocket when Ricky pulls up. Patricio lives an hour from the hotel, and his property expands over twenty acres. On the property sits Don Vicente’s house, Patricio’s house, and active construction on two other homes, each at opposite ends of the estate. I’m not sure why Patricio never remarried or had kids, but I can only assume the additional houses are for the family he plans to have one day. Hopefully not with my mother.

To the far back of the property, closer to south-end, is the building everyone calls El Cuadrilatero, or El Cuadri, for short. Inside, there is a boxing ring, gym equipment, and an indoor shooting range. That’s where I got the wound Mireya attended to, after Ricky and I went blow for blow, releasing pent-up energy.

I may have lied when I said Ricky looked worse than me. This fool didn’t have a scratch on him afterward. The fucker could fight, and he loved violence. We all do, but I saw Ricky’s eyes the night we found my mom. He was slaughtering every man on sight with a manic smile, like he was possessed. We get to Patricio’s estate, and Ricky drops me off at Patricio’s house, located in the center. The house is big, taking up at least ten acres of his property. It was a luxurious replica of the homes found in Mexico, with a modern hacienda design.

“I got some shit I got to do, but I’ll be back tonight for you.”

An older woman answers the door and leads me to Patricio’s home office, where he and Conejo are waiting for me. There is a bottle of Don Julio 1942 on his desk, and they are both already sipping on the tequila.

“Adriano,” Conejo says, relaxing on the green sofa. I move to sit on the opposite side of him as Patricio fills a glass and hands it to me. I haven’t spoken to him since he took my mom to rehab.

“There’s been a new discovery with Soledad.” He looks at me briefly before looking away, but I keep my eyes on him as he continues. “They’ve found that she responds well with hypnotherapy. Every week, I have them record the session and forward it to me.” He moves to turn on a big television that sits in front of us. I’d question HIPAA law, but this is the cartel’s top financial advisor. Privacy is nonexistent.

When the video appears, and he presses play, I see my mom. It’s been a few weeks since I last saw her, but already I can see the life and color that’s returned to her face. I shift uncomfortably in my seat as I think about our last conversation. The hypnotherapist is counting her down into a state of calm.

“4, 3, 2, 1… and breathe. I am here if you need me. You are in a safe place,” she says. I remember Mireya saying something similar to her. I smile, wondering if she’s like that with all her patients. My smile fades. Hopefully not with the ones who have a penis attached to them. I look back up to the screen. The hypnotherapist is taking my mother back to the first time she used heroin–a memory to help with her recovery.

“Where are you, Soledad?” she asks.

“I’m… I’m in my house…”

“Good. What else do you see?”

“I… I just dropped Adrian off at school, and I am… I am waiting for someone,” she says and looks confused. Her breathing has picked up and her legs shake. The hypnotherapist comforts her, repeating the safety mantra to ground her.

“You are safe, Soledad. This is just a memory, and you are in control of it. Who are you waiting for?”

“I’m… I’m waiting for… for Constance.”

“Who is Constance?”

“She is my drug dealer.” Patricio watches as Conejo and I glance at each other. My mother goes on to explain that Constance was the first person to show her how to use it, to supply everything she needed, hotels to stay in, and money to loan her. My blood is boiling. I am going to kill this bitch. I stand suddenly.

“Adrian,” Patricio says, snapping me back to reality, if only for a second. How can he be so calm?

“What’s the plan, Jefe?” Conejo asks.

“The plan is, we kill this fucking bitch.” I stare at Patricio. “I kill this fucking bitch.”

“People who fly into a rage always make a bad landing,” Conejo says as he sips his drink.

“I don’t give a fuck.” I will take both of them on when it comes to this. What did my mother ever do to Constance that she would want her to become addicted to drugs? That she would go so far as to supply her money. She couldn’t have hated me that much. Patricio runs a hand through his hair. He knows what I’m capable of when I’m angry. That wild beast in me fights to break free. The murderous one that sees nothing but the power needed to rise to the top. The one who helped me make it through prison.

“It doesn’t make sense. Constance has to be working for someone else. We need to string her along. Figure out what we can. I have my private investigator following her right now, and I have some friends at the Bureau pulling up her past to see if there are any convictions or connections. I wanted to let you know what was going on right away, but you can’t act right now, Adrian.”

I scoff. “You keep forgetting you’re not my father. He’s six feet under, and Constance will be joining him.”

“I’m not trying to be your dad, Adrian. Do you want to run an operation like this? Do you truly want that revenge? Then take it from me: you have to buy time. Everything has to be set in place, and then once we know it’s safe, we will strike hard and quick.” His eyes burn through me. I know he’s not wrong, but it still pisses me off.

“I’ll call Adan and see if he can break through to her phone to track her movements,” Conejo says.

“There’s more we need to discuss.” I pace, trying to get my rage under control as Patricio’s voice carries over from the opposite end of the room. “One of the girls we rescued from that house the night we found your mother is a Russian mafia princess. The sister of Kostya Pashokov. He is the head of the New York bratva. She was kidnapped, and he is still concerned for her safety.” Fuck, I hope this isn’t another offer for a wife.

“She is going to stay with Adriana in California, and in exchange, Kostya wants us to take over his gun operation.”

“Who was running it before?” Conejo asks.

“They were working with Los Hermanos Bandoleros, but Kostya thinks they may have been behind his sister’s kidnapping.”

“This will create us a new enemy with Los Hermanos Bandoleros,” Conejo says, and I nod.

“Just let me know what you’re going to need from me when the time comes,” I say and move to the door. I’ve had enough of this shit for today. They could work on the details of this without me. I’m just here to collect money and to murder motherfuckers. My main focus right now is figuring out what Constance is up to.

I walk out the front door and light up a cigarette. I don’t feel like walking to the Cuadri, and who knows how long it will be until Ricky returns, so I make my way out and walk to the front of the property. I can see Don Vicente working in his garden.

The old man’s house is simple compared to the luxuries of Patricio’s home. I come up behind him, and when I get closer, he pulls a pistol out from his boot and aims it at me.

“Woah!” I say and put my hands out in front of me.

“Adriano? Is that you?” His eyes narrow as he takes me in.

“Mijo, you can’t sneak up on me like that. I’m old and my mind isn’t as sharp. You were two seconds away from a bullet in between your eyes.” He lowers the gun and secures it back in his boot.

He motions me inside, and I make my way into the house behind him. I notice all the pictures on the wall. All the people I’m likely related to. I follow him into the kitchen, where he pulls out two beers from the fridge and hands me one. More pictures cover his fridge. Most of these of a young girl, holding the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen. Don Vicente catches my expression and chuckles.

“That is your cousin, Ariella, when she was younger. That’s her dog, Guapo.” Guapo, my ass. The dog is missing spots of hair, and the hair it does have looks mangled. He laughs at my expressions.

“She was thirteen when her parents found him on an abandoned property out in the mountains. There was a fire, and the people and animals had been burned alive, but somehow, Guapo survived. And your Tio Yeyo couldn’t say no when she wanted to keep him,” he says and shrugs as he takes a swig of his beer and moves towards the living room.

“This is her mother,” he says, pointing at an older picture of a woman who resembles Olivia, but with darker features. In the picture, she’s wearing a long gown and a crown with ‘Texas’ across the sash. Some type of beauty pageant she won. “You were named after her, you know?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for my response. “Yes. She and your mother were good friends. Both beautiful and both troublemakers.” He laughs.

“One time, I caught them stealing my 1964 Impala. I showed up at the party with Don Mario. He took out his pistol and started firing into the ceiling while letting out gritos. They were so embarrassed.”

“Don Mario, the maintenance man?” I could imagine the old drunk screaming out and shooting up the place like an old Western movie. I didn’t know he and Don Vicente were close.

“Ya… he was my right-hand man for a long time. And, well, no se quita el cabrón. He missed out on having his own life as a loyal hitman for me. He protected me and my family. I offered to buy him a house, but he wanted to live at the hotel. I know he pisses Enrique off, but I owe it to him. Plus, he still keeps me up to date with all the chisme.” I laugh, thinking about the trouble the old man gets into every day.

“Here’s Lola.” He hands me a picture, and I expect to see another family member, but instead I see the ‘64 Impala.

“You named your car Lola?”

Don Vicente continues to fill me in on different stories about his prized car. He continues introducing me to every member of the family, including his late wife, my grandmother. I listen and take it in, laughing at his dramatics and jokes. A woman enters and makes us something to eat, and we settle down to eat off tv trays in the living room. It feels simple compared to the luxuries I’ve seen with other members of the Consuelo family.

The whole meal is spent watching game shows where Don Vicente yells, cusses, and verbally assaults every contestant. Homeboy don’t play when it comes to Wheel of Fortune. Before I know it, time has flown by, and I hear a knock at the door. Ricky steps in, and I go to say goodbye. I stick out my hand, and Don Vicente grabs my hand and pulls me in, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

“You know, mijo, Patricio is a stubborn son of a bitch, but he means well. He started building those houses ten years ago. One of them is for you.”