As they approached the door leading inside, she resisted even harder. “No. Stop!” she yelled in an urgent voice, just like her mother had taught her.
He had to yank her several times. “Shut up!”
“Let go of me!” Elena smacked at his hand and resorted to screaming. “You have to fight if someone is trying to hurt you,” Jackie once told her. She tried to kick him, but ABCs jerked her hard back and forth, and she became disoriented then started crying.
Before opening the door, he paused and pointed a finger at her. “You will learn what happens to mischievous children who cause trouble.” Then he pulled the door open and yanked her through. ABCs paused again and barked at the guard, “Open it,” pointing to the door leading into the hallway.
The guard looked down at the child and hesitated, his jaw dropped in shock. He looked back up at ABCs from behind his mirrored sunglasses, his upper lip tensed with disgust.
Before ABCs could reprimand him, Elena seized the opportunity and pulled at his arm, getting close enough to bite the hand holding her. She let out a little high-pitched growl as she did.
“Goddammit!” ABCs shouted. He swung his free hand and smacked her upside the head.
She let out a sharp cry and let go but couldn’t stifle a brief smile that showed off bloody teeth. She spat on the ground at his feet, then looked up at him defiantly, nostrils flared, sharp breaths in and out.
ABCs and the guard leaned back slightly and looked down at her, momentarily frozen in shock, like they were trying to trap a wild animal that refused to relent.
She tried to pull away again, thrashing her body as she did, her little growl echoing in the main room.
ABCs raised a hand to hit her again, but the guard moved quickly and opened the door. “Sir!”
ABCs snapped his head, glared at the guard for a second, then lowered his hand and pulled her into the hallway. He held her up by one arm, her feet barely touching the floor.
The guard watched them go through. He sighed and shook his head as he released the door. Through the small pane of glass, he stood and watched with slumped shoulders as ABCs dragged her down the hallway, kicking and crying. “Esto es una mierda,” he mumbled.
Elena began to sob, tugging against him, feet sliding, stumbling as he pulled her down the hall to the rooms where the ladies were kept. He pushed open a door and dragged Elena through and released her. “Take care of her,” he commanded, and without another word, slammed the door shut.
Without hesitating, he turned away and walked across the hall to his smoking room. ABCs paused at the door, pulled out his phone, and scrolled through his contacts, searching for the number of his Shaman.
𓂓
The stage had been set for an outdoor performance. Despite the crowds, Armando insisted they force the dark sedan into the backstage area before the performance started. He was let out by a flustered driver to whom he rattled off detailed instructions for his plan after the performance.
He made his way around so he could see the stage. Although he stood off to the side, Armando tamped down his superiority complex and allowed himself to be part of the crowd of people enjoying the performance. The women were skilled and not only danced and sang but also performed on a variety of instruments. Armando had never smiled so much in one day. He clapped and moved his hips to the music, allowing their talents to seduce him.
After the performance ended, Armando hurried backstage. He had instructed the driver to situate the car so that the women would have to pass him on their way out. Armando stood beside it, the driver behind him at the ready. As the women made their way off the stage, Armando waved a hand and three boys hurried toward the women, carrying colorful bouquets bigger than they were. Each boy handed one to each of the women. Armando stepped forward, snapped a finger, and they scurried off to the car. The women paused, stunned by the weight of the unsolicited gifts. Exhausted from their performance, they exchanged dismayed looks, searching for someplace to set the heavy arrangements down.
Armando walked up to them as stately as he could and bowed his head slightly. He stood straight and surveyed the beautiful women before him. “Your performance tonight was inspirational.”
“Thank you,” they all said.
“I am Armando Cardentias,” he said his last name with a bit of a flourish of his hand, then watched them expectantly.
One woman stepped forward to speak for them, “We are The Paititi Three. I am Carmen, this is Rosaria and Frederica.”
Armando bowed his head again. “It is a pleasure to meet you again.”
“Again?” the woman asked.
“Yes, we almost bumped into each other on the street today in the market.”
Carmen thought for a moment. “Sorry, I do not remember.”
This wounded Armando a little, but he did not let it show. “I wanted to make up for my rudeness in the market by treating you all to an evening of dinner and music.”
He snapped his fingers again and the driver opened the trunk of the car. The three boys scampered around, lifted the gift boxes from the trunk, and hustled back to Armando, pausing behind him. Armando gave an amused look to the women before turning to whisper instructions to the boys. Then they hurried over to the women. One boy stood before each woman with the gift box held out. He snapped his fingers again and the boys removed the tops in unison. The women were shocked for a moment by the glistening necklaces inside—each had a different color stone. One blue, one green, and one red. The red one had been offered to Carmen, but she did not take it.
As they stood, breathing heavily under the weight of the flowers, a man came trotting up from behind Armando. “What is this car doing here?” he said, motioning to Armando’s sedan. The man surveyed the scene for a moment, then turned to Carmen. “I’m so sorry. We would’ve been here earlier, but we were blocked out by the crowds.”
The women gave him pained looks from behind the flowers. He hurried over and took them one by one from Frederica and Rosaria, then hustled to the side and set them on a table. He turned to go help Carmen with hers, but she put an arm out to stop him.
Carmen had been studying this man the entire time. She found his boldness obnoxious but had grown accustomed to adoring fans overstepping, especially wealthy men. She knew her car would be here soon, and, just in case, waited for her escorts to arrive before letting the man down easy. She waved off the boy with the box and walked up to Armando. Her dark eyes seemed to cast diamond sparks reflecting the lights from all around. Armando could only watch as she shoved the flowers into his arms. “We thank you for your offer of gifts, but we cannot accept such extravagances from a man we do not know.”
Armando stepped back, stunned. Two more men trotted up to Rosaria and Frederica, worried looks on their faces. One asked, “Is everything okay?”
The next performance was about to go on stage, but they had paused to watch the scene unfold. Armando looked around, suddenly conscious of eyes watching him. Watching him being refused—being humiliated.
Carmen gave Armando a level look, then turned to walk away. He dropped the bouquet, stepped over it, and grabbed her by the arm. She stopped and turned. The angry look on her face made Armando pause a moment, then he motioned his head for her to look down at his hand. She followed his gaze and saw the red scorpion tattoo. The Paititi Three were not from Central Mexico, but Carmen knew a cartel tattoo when she saw one. She turned, fully facing him, got close to his face, and said, “Do you think your reputation precedes you?”
Armando said nothing, only inclined his chin.
“I don’t know who you are, but I know what you are, and I would never accept advances from a man who does what you do.” She wrenched her arm away, turned, and walked to her car with Rosaria and Frederica.
“Leave us alone,” Rosaria added so everyone could hear. The three men followed, nervously watching behind them.
Armando watched them leave. They all got into another dark sedan, only longer, which backed away and pulled around his car to leave in a cloud of dust. Laughter floated around him from the dissipating crowd that had witnessed the failed gesture. Armando laughed it off as he snapped his lapels. But within moments, his face hardened. He motioned to the boys. They ran to put the gift boxes back in the trunk. The driver opened the door to the backseat. Armando threw a handful of coin on the ground before getting in. The boys fell to their hands and knees to gather them. Once inside, Armando gave the driver a single command, “Follow them.” He reached forward and pulled his handgun from the pocket in the back of the front seat and checked it. Then he made a call, ordering a nearby group of men from the Scorpion Cartel to meet him. “Right now,” he growled before slamming the phone down and letting out a wild scream. The driver cowered in his seat as he maneuvered through the crowds, doing his best to keep the other car in sight.
𓂓
