Taken In

Chapter 32

Javier's POV

Sitting in the ER waiting room I watch as different doctors and nurses pass me by, convincing myself that one of them will give me an update on Breo, before they talk to their colleagues, pick up more charts or walk past to speak to someone else. I start to feel frustrated, knowing whatever happens to her is out of my hands- I can't protect her in there, shit I could barely protect her when I had her.

Leaning back in my chair I think through tonight's events, trying to make sense of it all. G fucked with her head and told her to leave, but who the fuck hurt her? My brain goes through the obvious answers, knowing it was probably her ex, but something doesn't feel right about the scenario. Why would he drive down here, almost kill her, and leave? A take a deep breath, trying to think about who else could have a hand in this shit. Saco isn't smart enough to pull this off, or maybe he is.

That asshole never knows how to stay in his place, and he knows what'll happen to his sister if I find out he had anything to do with this. I lean back, feeling conflicted about what I might have to do next. We don't go after women or children, but Bre is off limits and Saco and his makeshift band of culero's need to understand that. Maybe I need to stop being a pussy and put him to sleep once and for all, but that's easier said than done.

We've both been selling product in San Antonio for a while, but he's the kinda guy that's been selling on the corner for years, even before I got in the game. Him being competition never bothered me, it's hard to respect a guy who's been a cholo for 50 years, that bald asshole is old enough to be on life alert.

I did things the smart way, I expanded my 'portfolio' as Daniel likes to say. I laugh to myself for a moment, realising I sound like some white guy talking about my 401K, but it's true. We have work that's legit- factories, stores, bars etc., and what we normally do. We clean our own money, have our own dealers, make our own product, make sure we never do business in the same area for too long. I found a way to be organised with this cartel shit and it works.

This shit is a business, not a lifestyle. I don't plan to be gunning people down and pistol whipping motherfuckers that cross me until I'm 50, hell 40-but Saco never understood that. He'll probably die on the streets he swears he's still the king of, wasted by a cholo he never expected would cross him. That's how it always ends, but not with me. I know who to keep close- but after all this shit with G, I'm not so sure.

My train of thought is interrupted as the two cops who were called in for Breo earlier walk past me, one nods at me politely but I ignore her, fucking pig.

I know for a fact they can't do shit to help Bre, and you don't need to be in my line of work to know that. At first they thought I was the one who hurt her, like it would make sense to beat on a girl and bring her in to a hospital to save her, dumbasses.

Luckily a traffic cam caught G and I speeding to the motel we found her in at the same time the guy who hurt her left their room, I'd take 10 speeding tickets if it meant I could've got to her sooner. I remember the blurry image they flashed in front of me to try and ID the guy who took her, but I said nothing. I don't need the cops fucking up my plans, I don't want that pendejo locked up, I need him dead.

I think back to the small room we found her in, swollen and bloody on the floor, I barely could tell she was breathing. I close my eyes tightly to erase the memory but the picture becomes more vivid, her words finally registering in my mind. She has a baby? Did she leave it behind with that asshole? I sigh in frustration- this situation is only getting more fucked up.

I see someone in my peripheral and look up immediately, watching as a stubby man with a comb over walks towards me. I don't even wait for him to get close enough before speaking.