Page 111 of Corrupted Bride

She hugs me hard, her arms frail and thin. “You did good, girl. You did good. I knew you could do it.”

I sob against her, but we can’t linger here. People would’ve heard the gunshots, and there are plenty of men nearby who will recognize them for what they were.

“Come on,” I say, getting to my feet. I wipe my face and my fingers come away bloody. “Oh God.”

“I’ll get you out.” Graciela grabs a blanket from the couch and throws it over my shoulders. “Come on, let’s move.”

I stumble into the hall. There’s shouting nearby and Graciela tugs me hurriedly down a side corridor, rushing toward another door at the far end. She yanks at the handle and all but shoves me down the stoop. “Go,” she hisses. “I’ll take the fall. You run!”

“But Tía⁠—”

“Go, damn you, girl, I’ve asked too much of you already.” Graciela whirls around, shutting the door, and storms back into the church.

I’m left in the back of the building alone in a parking lot beside several large and stinking dumpsters, covered in blood, wrapped in a blanket, still crying and dizzy and stunned.

I have barely enough self-awareness to send a single text. Help. I’m out back.

I sink to the asphalt, hiding as people inside shout. The commotion is wild. Sirens blare in the distance and get louder as the police show up. I don’t know what Graciela’s telling them, but I hate the thought of her going to prison for murder on the day of her own husband’s funeral. I hug my knees tightly, and I’m not sure how long I stay there until I hear his voice calling my name.

“Marisol! I’m here, Marisol. Fuck, where are you?”

“Bass.” I say his name, leaning against the dumpster to stand. “I’m here. Bass⁠—”

He comes around the corner and spots me, horror blooming on his face.

Then I’m in his arms. He hugs me tight, and he grimaces when I hug him back. His elbow’s wrapped in gauze and he’s almost as blood-covered as I am.

“God, I never should have agreed to this,” he says. “What happened, my love? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m okay. Ruben tried to—he tried to—” I tell him what happened in stuttering, sobbing sentences.

Bass holds me tighter until I finish. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I’ll never, ever let you do something like this again.”

“You better not,” I say, crying into his chest.

He sweeps me into his arms, jaw tight with pain as he carries me to his truck parked nearby. Nobody notices the girl in a blood-stained blanket as he places me gingerly on his back seat. “Stay down,” he says quietly. “I’ll get you home. I love you, Mari.”

“I love you.” I curl up, tugging the blanket over me, squeezing my eyes shut.

I keep seeing Ruben’s throat burst into blood and gore, his eyes going lifeless.

And I smile to myself as the truck pulls away, Bass behind the wheel, taking me back to safety and the ranch.

33

BASS

One Month Later

Carmine leans back in the booth and lights a cigar.

Mari tenses at my elbow. She leans forward, about to tell the Don of the Scavo Famiglia that he can’t smoke inside this high-end steakhouse, and I have to pinch her thigh to keep her from opening her mouth. She glares at me but seems to get the message.

“I’ll admit, it’s a wild story,” Carmine says after puffing away. The waitstaff barely glances over, like they’re used to this man blatantly breaking the rules. “And every word is true?”

Graciela raises her glass of wine. “Every word is true,” she confirms. “And here we are.” The new leader of the American half of the Escalante watches Carmine with a smooth and calm smile, her hair impeccable, her clothes expensive but understated. It’s almost like she’s a different person than the outlandish woman we first met.

Though now I wonder how much of that was an act.