The Cartel Lawyer by Dave Daren (popular books to read .TXT) 📗

“Oh, yes,” she grinned at me. “She confirmed that my boss has taken me off the schedule until I can come back.”

“I’m sure that went over well,” I muttered.

Her boss worked her too hard, even before she was sick, and I had almost expected him to complain that she needed time off for her cancer treatments.

“He’s not as bad as you think,” my mother replied. “Though I’m sure he won’t save my place. I’ll have to reapply. Or find somewhere else.”

“Why don’t you retire, mama?” I asked. “I’ll be making enough money to support you if you need help.”

I needed to be around to help my mother, and the thought lit another fire under me to get Camilo released from the Everson Juvenile Detention Center.

“I’ll think about it, hijo,” my ama replied. “But what would I do with all that free time?”

“You could pick up a hobby,” I suggested. “One that doesn’t require you to be on your feet. Like crocheting. Or quilt making.”

“No,” she shook her head as she tossed the tomatoes into the bowl with the bell peppers and onions. “I will not become some old lady in a chair with a needle in her hand or a ball of yarn in my lap.”

“There are plenty of other restful hobbies,” I said with a shrug. “You could make puzzles. Or maybe learn to play an instrument.”

“Mi hijo,” the older Cuban woman sighed as she pulled out a large skillet for the chicken and vegetables. “I’ve been working my whole life. I can’t just sit around, I’ll lose my mind.”

“At least give it some thought,” I said before I leaned down to give her a kiss on her forehead.

“Alright, alright,” she conceded. “Now go wash up for dinner. It’ll be done in a few minutes. I’ll prepare you a few dinners to take with you, too.”

I did as requested, and when I returned, the food was already on the table. I let her lead the conversation during dinner as she talked about her friend Laura, the herb garden she wanted to start, and the stubborn stain she couldn’t get rid of in the shower. It was clear that she had no desire to spend yet more time talking about the cancer, and I could understand her need to act normal, at least for a little while.

By the time I left, she had packed enough dinners for an entire week. All of it was portioned into tupperware and wrapped in aluminum foil. The smell of the food filled my car as I drove down the highway toward my apartment, and sure enough, my stomach started to rumble again. I sighed and told myself that I wasn’t allowed to touch any of it until the next night.

The food brought me back to thoughts about my mother. She had promised to get some rest once I left, and she’d been tired enough that she’d let me finish all the dishes. That had been odd enough, but then she hadn’t let me tuck her safely into bed. I had a sneaking suspicion that she was afraid I’d see how sick she really was, but she’d refused to retire until she’d seen me safely out the door.

When I reached my apartment, I parked and then gathered all of the dinners in one tall stack that I could almost manage as I strolled into the building. I almost lost a few as I opened the front door, so I shook off my hatred of the elevator and took it up.

Once I was safely inside my apartment, I stuffed all of the tupperware containers into the freezer, stripped, and then collapsed into the bed as exhaustion washed over me. I hadn’t even checked to see if Osvaldo had a man outside as my only thoughts had been about sleep, and I barely remembered to set an alarm for my meeting with Eloa before I drifted into restless dreams.

It felt like someone had put sand in my eyes when I woke up to turn off my alarm. I’d tossed and turned all night as my dreams switched between increasingly terrifying ways for Alvaro to kill me, and the gruesome things that might happen to Camilo while he was at the Everson Juvenile Detention Center.

I climbed out of bed, splashed cold water on my face, and then cleaned off my glasses before I peered at my reflection in the mirror. The bags under my eyes weren’t too bad, and my five o’clock shadow wasn’t so unruly that I needed to shave. I wet my hands, ran them through my hair to tame some of the frizz, and then shook the waves out so they weren’t plastered to the side of my head.

It took me longer than usual to tug on my jeans and a button-up, but soon I was ready for my meeting with Eloa. The coffee shop was close enough that I could walk, but it felt like a good idea to have the car nearby in case Osvaldo called or Eloa gave me something that I could follow up on.

There was no obvious goon lurking outside of my building when I came out, but I scanned the other buildings as I walked to the car. There were the usual dog walkers and people on their phones, but no one who looked like a cartel killer. With a sigh, I slipped into the car and turned the key. The engine turned over without issue, the AC pushed out icy-cold air, and soon I was on my way.

There were more cars in the parking lot than there had been the day before, so I wasn’t the only one having trouble waking up. I lucked out, though, as a Ford parked beneath the overhang of the neighboring building pulled out of a spot just as I turned into the lot. I slipped in before anyone