Enemy Sworn (14 page)

“Where does Sophia teach?” Mateo asked, instead of taking the majordomo up on his horning in.

“Immaculeta in Mexicali.”

Mateo's brows rose. He thought for sure it would be within the confines of the dictatorship that was Terra Oro. Not that Mexicali was far, maybe six miles tops, but it was across the border and not under Dumas rule. Or was it?

“How is it that the old man is okay with his daughter taking off for Mexico but here he's got her under a microscope?”

Manny looked up at Mateo with the patience of a man who was about to explain the facts of life to a rock. “In Mexico there is no greater law than Dumas. That is understood by even the lowest of life forms.”

“Then why does he live in the States?”

“He is an American and a true patriot.”

Mateo nodded, realizing Manny was as brainwashed as Sophia.

“I'm thinking I'll surprise my wife and take her out to lunch. How about a lift?”

Manny nodded and fifteen minutes later, Mateo found himself standing outside of Sophia's kindergarten classroom. That Manny never slowed down as they drove through the checkpoint didn't go unnoticed by Mateo. But it wasn't a big deal either. There were regulars who went back and forth daily, who had special stickers and as such weren't stopped by border patrol on either side.

As he reached for the classroom door he heard the happy sound of rambunctious children and the lilting voice of an angel as she sang to them. Sophia's voice was clear and happy. As the children began to sing with her, Mateo nudged open the door, and watched mesmerized as she walked around the room, helping the kids pick up the day's mess as she touched each child on the face, her smile warm and caring.

Sophia Dumas was one of those special women who touched everyone she came into contact with. As she knelt down and wiped a dirty face, then smoothed back unruly curls, it struck him she was no more involved in the Dumas cartel business than Mateo was. She was as innocent of evil as the children she touched with her warmth. Mateo was a fool to assume she was in as deep as her old man. He needed to get her out before he couldn't.

He nudged the door open wider, catching her attention. When she smiled at him, his chest tightened. He wanted her now. And he wanted her after he took her father's empire apart. But would she still want him then?

chapter twelve

“C
anta, mis angelitos!”
Sophia happily chirped. The children had noticed him in the doorway and, curious, had stopped singing. They began to sing again and as they did, Sophia grabbed her purse from a little locker near her desk and took out her wallet.

“I meant to give you some cash to go buy yourself some clothes and toiletries.”

He stood staring at the wad of bills she placed in his hand. “I have my own money, Sophia.”

“Yours is blood money, mine I earned here. Take it. I'll be done with the children at three. Meet me back here and then we'll go have an early dinner in town?”

Mateo nodded as she closed the door, and began to sing to the children again. He stood there for a long minute when he realized he'd crossed a self-imposed line. He had become emotionally involved with the boss's daughter. And it could get them both killed.

Fuck.

As he strode from the Catholic school he made a beeline for the
mercado
across the street. He needed to call in. Easily he purchased a throwaway cell and strode down the street until he came upon what was a busy town square. Slipping into a loud cantina, he made his way into the men's room. Positioning the trash can against the door handle, he called in.

A sequence of beeps answered, and Mateo entered the appropriate responding sequence. There was a long pause, then, “Are you secure?” It was command.

“Affirmative.”

“Go ahead.”

“Four nights from tonight, our target is going to church and has invited the head cardinals for what could be their final mass.”

“He'll be doing humanity a favor.”

“Agreed.”

“Find a way in and include our target for final mass.”

“Working on that.”

“Is the novice adhering to her vows?”

“Affirmative.”

“Does the priest confide in her?”

“Come again?”

“The padre you met last night is safe. So is his house.”

That shouldn't have surprised Mateo but it did. And it was good to know there was a safe house close by if he needed one.

Something big and solid hit the bathroom door from the outside. “I'm out,” Mateo clipped, then dropped the phone onto the tile floor and crushed it with his heel. Scooping up the pieces he tossed half into the trash can and the other half he flushed. Quickly he washed his hands, and just as he was repositioning the trash can the door swung open.

A big Latino male strode in. And he wasn't alone.

Mateo strong-armed the door back against him, in effect keeping him and his pack of cronies out.

“I didn't come to fight,” the thug said. “My boss has a proposal he would like to discuss with you.”

“Who's your boss?”

“Señor Bertram.”

Javier's old man. Mateo was an instinct man. It had saved his ass more times than he had fingers and toes, and, despite the fact the world thought he was a cold-blooded assassin, Mateo believed him.

“Where is he?”

“At the bar, waiting.”

“I'll listen but we do it in public. Have him meet me out front in the square by the fountain.”

The Latino nodded and retreated, calling his men to follow. Several of them threw Mateo narrow-eyed glares before they turned and followed their leader. Mateo scratched his head and wondered what the hell was going on. Bertram Senior should want his ass in pieces.

Aware of every sound, movement and person within striking distance and fifty yards beyond, Mateo strode confidently out of the cantina to the small square that was the centerpiece of the small circle of cantinas and
mercados
.

Victor was impossible to miss. The dozen bodyguards surrounding him aside, he resembled his son in height, bulk and arrogance.

He was dressed completely in black à la Johnny Cash. He looked a bit like the country singer too, with long sideburns and thick, wavy black hair peppered with gray. His eyes were dark, sharp and highly intelligent. If he was looking to strike a deal for Mateo's wife, the old man was in for a rude awakening.

Just the thought of Sophia warmed Mateo from the inside out. She was something else, and if he would ever allow himself to fall in love, he would fall head over heels for the lovely lady. She was a prize, and a worthy life partner. He scowled, not liking where his thoughts were taking him. Emotions clouded objectivity. Emotions got you killed. He was a survivor and planned to stay one.

The square was teeming with chatting women and their children, many of whom splashed in the shallow fountain. None of them seemed bothered by the presence of the notorious drug lord or his small army of bodyguards. It was status quo around these parts. Mateo wondered how many Dumas eyes and ears were on them at the moment.

“What proposal?” Mateo asked the old man as he approached.

Victor inclined his head away from his men and the screaming children. Mateo moved with him but not too far. He stopped and looked at the old man. “I don't have all day.”

“Impatience was what got Javi killed,” he said.

“No, his lust for killing got him killed.”

“He was my firstborn son. I overindulged him.”

The old man's dark eyes shone with unshed tears. “What crime did he commit against you?”

“He killed my brother.”

Senior nodded. “Blood for blood. It is a code that crosses all walks of life.” His eyes dried up. “I have three more sons.”

“I have no more brothers.”

“He must have done something to provoke Javier.”

“Yeah, he did, he tried to make a deal with your son for enough blow to make it snow in Mexico for a month.”

Senior's dark eyes sparked in realization. “Ah, he was the cop?”

“Yeah.”

“And you?”

Mateo laughed without mirth. “Let's just say my brother and I didn't see eye to eye on how to make a living. But that didn't mean I didn't love him. He was my big brother. Now I'm an only child.”

“You lost a brother but gained the golden goose. I would say you traded up.”

Irritated, Mateo wanted to just ask the old man what he wanted, but since he was being so conversational, he allowed him to set the tone while keeping a vigilant eye on what was going on around him.

“Indeed, I have.”

“I understand Dumas is not happy with the union.”

“His feelings are inconsequential to me.”

“He has put a considerable price on your head.”

Why was Mateo not surprised? “I expected it.” When the old man nodded, Mateo continued, “And I suppose your proposition has something to do with covering my ass, and in return, I give you what?”

“Dumas's head.”

Mateo smiled. He liked this guy. “And how do you think my wife would like that?”

Senior smiled the true smile of a wolf in sheep's clothing. “If she knew what he did with Felicia, she would want to do the deed herself.”

“Felicia, Sophia's mother?”

“
Sí.”

Mateo was fully engaged now. “Where is she?”

“That bit of information I will keep to myself for now. However,” he said as he removed a small envelope from the inside of his vest and handed it to Mateo, “there's a picture inside of Felicia, alive, two weeks after she disappeared. She's holding a newspaper with the date, plus the photo is time and date stamped. The picture behind it is also of Felicia, the photo time and date stamped with the corresponding newspaper.”

Mateo opened the envelope and slid the photos from it. The one on top was of a beautiful woman, Sophia's spitting image, sheer terror reflected in her eyes. Rage unfurled within him. He would protect Sophia with his life so that she would never have to experience what her mother had. The date and time stamp was ten years ago, and the newspaper as well.

The photo behind was a gruesome testament to Dumas's cruelty. Felicia Dumas lay in two pieces in the dirt, her head severed from her body, her eyes staring blankly at the sky. The time and date stamp was two days later, as was the newspaper.

Mateo snarled and looked at Senior. “Who did this?”

“I did.”

Mateo checked his fury. “Why?”

“Dumas ordered it. My payment, his daughter Fatima for my son Javier.”

“What happened to Fatima?”

“Buried somewhere in the Mojave.”

“You killed Sophia's mother so your son could marry her half sister?”

“I had no choice, really. I needed Dumas's money to boost my operation; he needed my cocaine to boost his. I caught Felicia as she was boarding a bus east. I knew what she was doing. I saw an opportunity and took it. Bertram has been able to keep its enemies at bay because the other cartels knew of the blood alliance between us and Dumas. The two bloods joined would have produced a
familia
so powerful most countries could not bring us down. But now . . . the alliance is gone and my enemies see opportunities where before they would have seen none.”

Mateo slid the pictures back into the envelope and started to slide them into his back pocket.

“The pictures are not yours.”

Mateo smiled grimly. “They are now.”

Senior paled. “This is not negotiable.”

“Then take them from me.”

“Dumas will know who gave them to you.”

“
If
I show these to him, I'll say I found them on Javier.”

The old man swallowed hard. For a tough guy he was sure acting like a scared little girl.

“Where is her body?” Mateo asked.

“Her final resting place is my secret for now.”

Knowing how important religion was to Sophia, he asked, “Was she given last rites? Was her grave blessed?”

“No. But I give my word, if all that needs to come to pass comes to pass, I will deliver Felicia's remains, so that she can have a proper burial.”

“Why should I give you Dumas?”

“As I said, he has put a price on your head. Remove him and that threat goes away.”

“And then what? You take over his family?”

“Yes.”

“If I take out the old man it won't be so someone else can step into his shoes. I'll do it for myself.”

“Don't be ridiculous,
gringo
. No one will follow you.”

“But they will follow Sophia.”

Senior laughed. “No female would be respected enough to lead.”

Mateo smiled tightly. “There's always a first time for everything.”

“Females are weak! They don't have the stomach to do what needs to be done.”

“You might be right, but I'm putting my money on my wife.” But Mateo knew Sophia had no desire to run the family business as it was. She wanted out. Another thought occurred to Mateo. If he took out Dumas, and Senior stepped in, what would prevent him from offing the only child of the dead leader?

“I'm not weak.”

“But you are an outsider, and any children she bears you would not be of the
familias
. The Dumas covenant is clear: the blood stays within the line.”

“If that's true, then had Javier and Sophia married and had a son, that son would be disqualified too because of Felicia's blood. What was the point, then?”

The old man's eyes glittered malevolently, and in their gleam Mateo understood perfectly. “You would have destroyed your son and grandchild for the chance to become supreme leader?”

“Ruthless politics are required to preserve the bloodline.”

“Why did Dumas marry an outsider knowing a child of that union could not succeed him?”

“Because his sons and daughter from his first wife could. He never planned on his sons dying before they married and had heirs or his eldest daughter refusing Javier.”

“That doesn't change the fact that Sophia isn't of the correct bloodline. By the very rules he lives and dies by how can she continue the Dumas legacy?”

“Because that arrogant fool thinks he will live forever! And ultimately he would have forced us to accept his last surviving child's child as his successor.”

It didn't make sense to Mateo—Dumas was too smart for that.

“He loved Felicia,” Victor spat. “He was a man obsessed. It was disgusting the way he fawned over her. He lost his objectivity. But when he discovered her plans to take their child and disappear, he became furious. That was when he lost his objectivity. In a fit of rage he ordered her death. When I gave him proof of death something inside of him snapped, and from that moment on, he became the tyrant he is today.”

It explained why he was so cold to Sophia. He probably saw his wife every time he looked at her.

“There was a time I wanted to sit at the head of the table for selfish reasons. Now I want to preserve it.”

Mateo nodded, understanding Bertram's desire. Mateo was in the same line of work except he risked his life every day to protect law-abiding citizens. Dumas was a threat to them. Hundreds of people had died because of the O he was manufacturing. If he was not stopped, the body count would skyrocket. He needed to be stopped. Now.

“Every cartel north of Mexico City stands with me. Dumas is too powerful. Balance must be restored, and the bloodlines preserved.”

“What of people like Sophia?”

Senior looked down at the ground before he looked Mateo straight in the eye. “That will be for the council to decide.”

“And if they decide to eliminate her because she is the only surviving heir of Dumas?”

“Then it will be done.”

Mateo shook his head. “That's a deal breaker for me.” He took several steps back. “Don't approach me again.”

“Watch your back,
gringo
.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Mateo turned and strode from the old man.

And then he did what he had come to the square to do: shop for clothing, shoes and toiletries. But he did it on autopilot. His brain processed information like a CPU, calculating the risks of what Bertram asked versus what his mission was. Because life just got more complicated. So long as the cartels lived and died by the blood-for-blood code, Sophia's life was in jeopardy. None of the leaders would allow her to live if her father was destroyed. If her father lived then she lived in a virtual prison with a target on her back and any child she bore would live with the same target.