His Territory

30

Los (Oooooh!!!)

"We'll need somewhere to lay low when we get there," I say quietly, trying to break through Cristian's trance. He's focused on the road, his eyes scanning each landmark as we pass.

"Look for a hotel," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze never leaving the window.

I sigh, pulling out my phone and typing in Atlantic Beach. The map pulls up, and I frown. "'Mano, Bay Boulevard's nearly five miles long. How are we supposed to figure out which end she's on?"

Cristian's head snaps away from the window, his full attention now on me. "Let me see that." He takes the phone, his fingers curling tightly around it, frustration etched on his face.

"Hijo de puta madre," he mutters, jaw clenched. He holds the phone as if he's about to crush it, and I half expect him to. Suddenly, his own phone chimes, breaking the silence. We both freeze. He meets my eyes, his expression unreadable as he pulls the phone from his pocket.

"He has me, not house in Queens. In New York by water. Don't reply don't call, has my phone. Help," he reads aloud, voice barely steady.

"Is that from Lu?" I lean forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the screen.

Cristian gulps and nods, his eyes flicking back to the message. "Check if any part of that street runs along the coast."

I quickly go back to my search, and relief washes over me as I find it. "Yeah, the south end is right on the water. There's a motel down there too."

I tap on the plexiglass divider between us and the cab driver. "Excuse me, could you take us to Blue Eyes Motel? It's 1150 Bay Boulevard."

The driver nods, a quiet "Five minutes away" barely audible over the engine.

I tap my fingers against my thigh, my mind drifting to thoughts of Lucia. I remember how she looked that night, how she turned towards me, and how her eyes softened as she held my gaze. I felt it—the same pull from her as I did. Eres el fin para mí, chula. I can't forget those words or the fire behind them. She's the endgame for me, the one thing that makes sense.

The squeal of brakes snaps me back to reality. The motel is on our right, and on the left, I spot a row of expensive houses lining the shore. As we climb out of the cab, I scan the quiet neighborhood. Million-dollar homes, expensive cars in the driveways—nothing like our old stomping grounds.

"What I wouldn't give to be a rich white fuck," Cristian mutters beside me, a glimmer of amazement in his eyes.

"Lo mismo," I respond quietly, my voice barely carrying over the gentle ocean breeze. Just then, a familiar black G-wagon cruises by, heading north. I turn, heart racing as I catch a glimpse of the driver. I know that face, that indifferent gaze.

"Mira, 'mano." I barely need to say the words. From the look on Cristian's face, I know he's seen it too.

"At least we're close, right?" he says, voice tinged with bitterness. "You think he saw us?"

"Nah, I don't think so."

He nods, his jaw tightening as we walk toward the motel. Inside, an old man sits hunched over a small TV behind the front desk, oblivious to our arrival.

"Good morning," Cristian says, voice steady. "We'd like a room, preferably facing south."

The old man glances up, studying Cristian over the rims of his thick glasses. He leans forward, reaching shakily for a key, and hands it to me. "Room 201, right on the end. Faces the water."

"Thanks," I say, grabbing the key.

As we head up the stairs, Cristian puts a firm hand on my shoulder. "Did you talk to Lu that night she ran home?" His voice is low, almost dangerous. "Did she say anything about me?"

I freeze at the top of the stairs, my mind racing. Do I tell him about the kiss? Do I tell him she was looking at me the same way I was looking at her?

"Nah, man," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. "I just walked in and heard her in the shower when you knocked."

Cristian's eyes narrow, his expression hardening as he steps forward, hand snaking around my neck and pressing me back against the wall. I can feel the blood rushing to my face as his grip tightens.

"You told me she wouldn't go home," he hisses. "So why the fuck were you at her place? Trying to get her alone?"

I force myself to meet his glare, refusing to let him see any fear. "I was just trying to find her, man. I thought she might've gone back there, that's it."

His eyes stay locked on mine, sizing me up as he loosens his grip. He shoves me one last time before stepping back, his gaze icy.

"If I find out you're lying to me—if anything happened between you two—that'll be your last breath."

I nod, holding his gaze, my mind a twisted mess of adrenaline and doubt. If it comes down to it, would I kill him for her?

As Cristian turns and heads for the room, I follow, forcing myself to shake off the thought. But deep down, I know the answer. I can't lose Lucia, not to him, not to anyone.