I don’t know to respond to that. Hell, what do I say to that? She’s read right through me, and even though they are my family—a part of my bloodline—I can’t talk about him much. He wouldn’t want me to. He would want me to move on. He wouldn’t want to be figured out. He wants to be known as The Jefe and nothing less.
Cruel.
Cold.
Handsome and deadly.
On top of the world.
I shake my head and say, “Aunt Minnie, The Jefe is a monster. He’s brutal and cold and strict. He didn’t like to take the word ‘no’ for an answer. Maybe I did care a little. Maybe it was some kind of messed up Stockholm syndrome for a while, but there is no way in hell I am in love with a man like him. He’s no hero. He’s a villain. And villains only look out for themselves.”
She lets the words sink in, but the word she says to me next makes the smallest, most genuine laugh bubble out of me. It’s the first time in a long time that I feel it—a strong laugh that comes from deep within my core. A laugh so comforting and rich that I hope it helps me sleep better tonight.
“Bullshit,” she says. “You’re in love with him. Plain and simple.” She walks away like nothing even happened, leaving me sitting there with a stupid grin plastered on my face.
After soaking up enough rays, I head back up to my room with another cup of chamomile tea. I place the teacup on top of the dresser, and then lock the door behind me, taking my gun out of the tote bag sitting on the bed and sliding it beneath the mattress.
With a deep sigh, I grab my teacup and saucer and walk to the double doors, pulling them open and stepping onto the terrace. The view is spectacular. I inhale deep, and exhale before taking a sip of the hot drink, just as a windy chill nips at my skin.
I don’t mind the chill. It feels good.
I sit, cradling the hot cup in hand, watching as the sun sets behind the tall mountains.
I’m surrounded by nature.
There is solace here.
Peace.
It’s the perfect place to escape from all the madness in the world and actually think and accept. It’s the perfect way to start from scratch and actually live a normal life.
Some people would kill to have a home like this. This kind of tranquility is enough to savor and make you never want to go back to the real world…so why do I keep trying to go back to the cruelty when I’m better off here?
Long after dinner, and when the house is mostly quiet, I hear light footsteps drifting down the hallways. It’s around one in the morning. Jen told me Aunt Minnie is always asleep by 11 o’ clock, and Uncle Jack is usually right behind her.
I push out of bed, walking to the door and pulling it open as quietly as possible. The hallway is dark, but I see the familiar silhouette walking down the hallway, the opposite way of my bedroom.
I pull the door open, taking a step out. “Psst,” I hiss, and Clark stops, peering over his shoulder. I wave a hand, signaling for him to come to me.
He turns, walking my way with an exaggerated exhale. I open the door and he steps inside, shutting it behind him quietly. He’s barefoot, most likely because he’s sneaking in and doesn’t want to be asked questions by his parents.
“You were gone all day,” I whisper-hiss, taking a step back. “What took you so long?”
“I had other shit to do besides getting in touch with the pilot, woman,” he says snidely.
“Well, did you get in touch with him?”
“Yeah.” He plucks a cigarette from behind his ear, walking past me to get to the terrace. He steps out into the cool night, the milky moonlight shining down on him, placing the cigarette between his lips. He draws a lighter out of his front pocket and brings it up, sparking it and lighting the end.
Once he takes a long pull and releases a chain of smoke, he says, “He’s out of town. Won’t be back for two days. I told him I need to see him as soon as possible.”
“Did you tell him why?” I ask, stepping up and gripping the guardrail.
“No. He wouldn’t have agreed to meet me if I’d told him.”
“Good. We don’t need him telling Uncle Jack.”
Clark side-eyes me. “How the fuck are you gonna get him to take us anyway?”
“Guns aren’t just for protection. They can be used to threaten, too. You should know that.”
“I’d never threaten my own fucking pilot unless I have another one in line and we fucking don’t right now.”
“Then I’ll be sure to get you a new one once everything has blown over.”