Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
“I know, and of course, I’m in complete agreement that the U.S. is where we belong.” He pecked me briefly and ghosted his thumb over my bottom lip. “Let’s not argue about something we both agree on. We should move before someone recognizes you.”
I ran my fingertip over the curling, cursive letters of the de la Rosa engraved on his metal tie. “You won’t make me go back to the house, will you?”
“Not if you swear you’ll stay by my side every moment.”
“An easy promise to make.” I smiled as he guided me through the crowd by my shoulders until a friend waved at us from the main room.
“There’s an announcement coming,” Tepic called. Dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, fanny pack, and aviators, Tepic was as wild as the curls on his head and only as tall as me, but compact and mighty nonetheless. As we approached, he took an entire tray out of a waiter’s hands. “Come one, come all,” he said, showing us an assortment of narcotics. “What kind of night do you wish to have?”
“A sober one.” Diego waved a hand. “None for us, compa.”
I glanced around the room for the skull-faced stranger. There was something about him my mind tried to grasp on to, like a word at the tip of my tongue.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Tepic eyed me when I looked back at him. “I’m Tepic, like the city I come from.”
“You don’t say.” I laughed and shook his hand. “Mucho gusto.”
“You must’ve missed the gossip,” Diego said, sliding an arm around my shoulders and looking into my eyes. “Should we let him in on our secret?”
Tepic lowered his sunglasses, gaping. “Talia? I didn’t recognize you in that mask.”
“That was the plan.”
“Costa will be happy to have you here for Easter,” he said, looking up as the music lowered. “Speak of the devil.”
On a large, wide balcony overlooking the main room, dancers stopped the can-can and parted, gathering on both sides of the gallery. My dad appeared through red velvet curtains and came to the railing, scanning the crowd and waving as his staff herded everyone into the same room. I moved behind Diego but kept my eyes on Papá, who looked almost cherubic with a cheeky grin, red face, and his crown tilted to one side. He tapped his scepter against the tile to get everyone’s attention, but the effect was muffled by a clear tarp on the ground. Soon, silence fell over his audience.
“Thank you all for coming to celebrate tonight,” he said almost drunkenly yet maintaining the sense of calm and composure he’d become known for in a world of chaos. “I know you’re all eager to get back to the party and to the drinking,”—he paused for some laughs—“as am I. But there’s a quick matter I want to resolve while all my closest friends and colleagues are in one place.”
Diego glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyebrows drawn in question. I shrugged.
A waiter handed Papá a champagne glass. “On this day, the Cruz cartel welcomes back an old friend.”
A murmur moved through the crowd as Tepic whispered to Diego, “¿Qué está pasando?”
Diego kept his eyes up and shook his head to say he didn’t know what was happening. “No sé.”
If Diego didn’t know about this, I wasn’t sure who would. I slipped my hand into his and squeezed.
“Years ago, a wrongdoing was committed, and I intend to make it right before all of you tonight.” Papá looked over his shoulder, into the wings. “Let it be known that a Cruz doesn’t cower from his mistakes or turn his back on familia.”
What family did he speak of? I looked to Diego, but his gaze was still trained on my father.
Papá turned forward again, and any belligerence vanished as he fell serious. “And that in the Cruz cartel, no betrayal goes unpunished.”
The audience clapped, ready for a show.
“It gives me great pleasure to present you the leader of the Calaveras,” my dad said. “But more importantly, to accept back into our lives a man who was once like a son to me and my wife.”
“Calavera?” Diego asked. “He can’t be serious.”
“Who are they?” I asked.
“One of the new order cartels that has come to power over the past few years,” Tepic explained quickly.
An “old friend” Diego knew nothing about—and an unknown cartel that had to do with my family? I struggled to connect the pieces. “Why would he . . . who is more like a son to him than you, Diego?”
Papá half-turned and beckoned the suited man in face paint I’d danced with. He stepped forward, surveying the room with black eyes that landed on Diego and me. My heart slammed against my chest as the pieces clicked and the puzzle finally revealed itself.
Father raised his champagne glass. “Welcome home, Cristiano de la Rosa.”