Page 9 of Bound By A Promise

Camila

We’d been in the air for more than an hour, flying east toward the red hue radiating from the horizon. While my father and Dante Luciano had made quick work of getting Mama and I on the plane and away from the scene of the attack, my nerves remained in tatters. Every shift or bounce from turbulence had my knuckles blanching and my grip of the armrest tightening. Each time I closed my eyes, I remembered the opening of the sauna door and the dreadful seconds wondering if the Russians had found me. The horrible sights and smells lingered in my mind, from the shattered glass doors to the bloodstained tile. My childhood home had been violated in a way that would stay with me long after the debris was cleaned away.

I turned to my side, taking in my mother as she sat staring out the small window. Neither of us had spoken much since theplane lifted off the ground. It was as if we both had too much to say yet neither was sure how to best verbalize our emotions.

“Are you all right?” I asked, not for the first time since our trauma.

She turned toward me, her expression stoic. Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. Tears teetered on her lower eyelids. As if held back by determination, they quickly faded away as she blinked, inhaled, and lifted her chin. “I don’t want to scare you,” she whispered to keep our discussion private.

“I’m not a child, Mama. I was there. I saw the blood and destruction. I don’t think you can scare me any more than I was while I was hiding in the sauna.”

“You should have been in the safe room.”

“Miguel tried. With the power cut, the keypad wouldn’t work.”

“Your father will need to remedy that.”

I didn’t want to think about needing the room again.

Mom’s nostrils flared as she took a ragged breath. “I’ve been trying to remember how long Luis had been with us.”

I laid my hand over hers. “For about as long as I can remember.”

She nodded. “I believe it was before Emiliano was born.” She feigned a smile. “When your father and I were first married, he had a trusted bodyguard. His name was Alfonso.”

“I don’t recall that name.”

“There was an ambush.” She inhaled. “I think it was the first time I truly understood the danger in what your father does.”

“Did something happen to Alfonso?” I asked.

“The two of them were out.” Mom shook her head. “Andrés never shared all the details with me. I only knew they were both shot.”

“Papá was shot?” How did I not know about this?

“It’s not a story he approves of repeating. Alfonso was a good man. The bullet passed through him before striking Andrés. Your father walked away. Alfonso didn’t. The shot came from another man Andrés thought he could trust.”

“Someone in the Roríguez cartel?”

Mama sighed. “It was a very dangerous time. Your father and uncles were young. Your aunt Marie and I were young.” Her lips curled into an almost smile. “Even Jorge was young, and Josefina, she was stunningly beautiful. I remember thinking that she could have been a model.”

“Did she want that?”

“Her wants weren’t relevant.” Mama shook her head. “Her father was in charge. He never would have allowed her to have her own career. Josefina was his bargaining chip.”

Lifting my eyebrows, my forehead furrowed. “Bargaining chip?”

“Juan Cruz didn’t have a son. His daughter was his means to find the right person to peacefully take over his businesses.”

“Josefina’s father choseel Patr?n?”

“It’s the way of our world. Señor Cruz made a good choice. Jorge has done well.” Her gaze went to the front of the plane.

Mine followed hers, wondering if Dante was listening. With earbuds in each ear and a laptop on the table in front of him, he seemed oblivious to our conversation.

“Did Josefina have any say in the matter?”

Mama turned to me. “Much like your sister.”