Page 69 of High

Thiago

We were at the airport when I got the call. The background noise and static on the phone made me squint as I held my hand up to Rafael and Manny and our men, stopping them from boarding our private plane as I pressed the phone to my ear. “Say that again.”

Arlo’s voice sounded garbled, like it was stuffed with cotton balls. “It’s Mamá, Thiago.”

“What about Mamá? What happened?” My blood turned cold and my skin prickled with a mixture of adrenaline and fear.

“House… attack… Mamá… hospital… fucking….” He’d said enough, even if the line grew more staticky. Antonio had clearly hired two teams and one went to the house.

“We’re coming home now,” I said sharply, ending the call and waving my hand at the men, shouting at them to hurry in Spanish. Storming toward the stairs of the plane, I tucked my arm around Manny’s waist and guided him up and into the cabin.

“Thio, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me,” Manny said in a small voice when I sat him in his seat, the same one he’d used on the way here. I belted him up, my concentration on my fingers as they shook in rage.

Rafael took his seat too, the one across the aisle from us, and stayed silent. He knew my moods well by now, and when I was ready to talk to him, I would. I waved my hand at the hostess.

“Tell the captain we’re ready to go. We need to leave now. No exceptions.”

She nodded and nearly ran down the aisle to get to the cockpit. While she did that, I returned my attention to Manny and knelt in front of him. I stroked his cheek and jaw, using the touch of skin to settle the anger churning low in my stomach. I couldn’t do anything until we got home, until I saw Mamá and the extent of the damage.

“Dime que está mal,” Manny whispered, a gentle order, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell him what was wrong. Not now. But I’d promised him he would be part of this, and that meant the negatives that came with the business as well.

“I couldn’t make out everything Arlo said, the connection was breaking up, but what I did get was that the house was attacked and Mamá was hurt. She’s in the hospital.”

Manny stiffened, eyes wide, and he let out a huff as though he’d expected bad news, and now that he’d heard it, the prospect was terrifying. He cupped my face and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It had to have been Papá.”

Yes, that wasn’t in question. It was smart, really, something I’d do too. Attack two locations at once, take out as many members of a family as you could. I mentally cursed Antonio and his fucking balls.

“Sir, the captain’s ready to leave. Could you please take your seat?” The hostess had returned, and her voice shook, like she was afraid to ask me to do anything.

I nodded and sat opposite Manny. My seat was facing his, so I could watch him as the pilots reversed the plane and guided it onto the runway. Soon we were in the air, gliding smoothly. If only my life was this simple, but I thought it felt more like turbulence, rocking and shaking until I wanted to escape. There was no leaving this ride. Sometimes I wondered how our life would’ve been if Papá and Antonio never started the cartel, if we’d been poor back in Caborca where my parents and Antonio had grown up, where they’d first made plans to take the drug world by storm. Manny and I would still have known each other, but in different circumstances.

I shook my head to push away the thoughts. If we’d been poor, I wouldn’t have been able to give Manny everything he dreamed of, like Coco.

The flight was long and overnight, and all I could do was keep my mind off what I would be landing to. When we were in the air, I stood and unclipped my belt before holding my hand out to Manny. He did the same, and I led him toward our bedroom near the back of the plane, past the kitchenette area where the hostesses made us meals. The room was as luxurious as you could get and still be on a plane, and the double bed was almost as comfortable as the one at home, though it was narrower. The wall color was called red oak, or so we were told when we bought the private plane, but I considered it more of a light brown, and the few bits of furniture in the room—a dresser with bolted-in drawers, two seats beside a small table, and the bed—were made out of dark gray materials. The linen was a mixture of whites and charcoal, with a soft gray fur blanket on top.

We’d slept in here on the way down and even had a bit of fun while Rafael and the men sat at the bar just before the kitchenette, but I didn’t quite feel like it this afternoon, and Manny must have realized because he closed the door behind us before yanking me onto the bed and hugging my face against his chest. I buried myself into him and curled my arms around his slim body, not wanting to let him go, while praying Mamá would be okay. I wasn’t a true believer, but I even said a quick prayer to Santa Muerte, patroness of criminals like me. If anyone would help Mamá, surely she would.

As though he knew what I was thinking about, Manny cuddled me closer and said, “She’ll be fine. She’s a strong woman.”

“She is, isn’t she?” I smiled at the thought of all the times she’d proven that. Not just anyone could be a jefe’s wife, and Mamá took it in stride. She had the same drive as my papá did, helping him in more ways than anyone knew.

“You know what she told me when we were shopping? She told me about a party she held when people were mocking her as your papá’s wife, and what she did to those people. It was Tía Rosa who gave me the courage to be stronger.” Manny stroked his hand over my head and I sighed into him.

“You were always strong, Mamá knows that.”

“Maybe, but that’s because of her. Papá never really had any input in my upbringing. It was Tía Rosa and Tío Luis who did that. And you helped me, and even Arlo too. You gave me a family I didn’t know I needed.” He hummed a familiar tune that made me smile. It was the same song that Mamá sang to us when we were children and about to go to bed. She always said it would chase away the nightmares.

“Gracias, hermoso, you always know how to make me feel better.” I leaned up and kissed him gently.

By the timewe got back to San Diego, I was beyond anxious, but not as angry as before. Arlo sent cars to the airport that took us straight to the hospital, and he met us there. The sight of him made me pause, though. He looked like hell, bruises littering his cheeks and jaw, and his arm was in a sling.

“Hermanito, are you all right?” I stopped in front of him and touched his shoulder as gently as I could.

Arlo winced but smiled, though it looked like it hurt to do so. “I’m fine. Few bruises and scrapes. Broke my arm.”

“How?” I asked, and that familiar anger returned. Antonio would regret ever knowing our name by the time I was done with him.

“They got the upper hand, twisted my arm behind my back. I knew they broke it, heard the bones snapping.” Arlo’s gaze slid to Manny and his head tilted forward slightly, in a way I would expect a higher-up in the cartel to treat the jefe’s partner, then his attention went to Rafael. “Tadeo was shot in the chest. He’s doing fine, though, the bullet missed all the vital organs. Doctors say he’ll make a full recovery. He jumped in front of Mamá when they aimed at her. We lost several men, so we’ll need to vet more for the house.” He turned his attention to Rafael. “Your parents are already here.”