Taste Of Scotch // James Valdez

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I sat in the front seat, arms wrapped around myself, my head pressed against the window. My stomach churned like a washing machine set to spin cycle. I killed that man. A guy probably just trying to scrape by in this messed-up world, and I—me—took that away.

I might not have pulled the trigger, but I'm as guilty as if I did.

When I looked up from my navel-gazing, I realized we were heading the wrong way. "James, where are we going? The warehouse is the other way."

"Camila wants to see you."

We pulled up to the club. Both of us silent, moving like automata without hearts or souls. We got out, and James led the way into the empty club where Camila waited.

"Come... sit, Elena," Camila beckoned from a table. Her voice was syrup over steel. I approached, sensing a storm brewing. She gestured to a chair, a bottle of liquor and two glasses between us. "You know," she began, pouring a drink, "this bottle comes from my favorite mezcalería in Oaxaca. It's good, try some."

I shook my head. I wasn't about to play friends or loyal subjects with her. "No, thanks. I'm good."

"James told me what happened today."

Of course he did.

She paused, her eyes locking onto mine like a hawk. "You took a big risk. How did you know the bills were counterfeit?"

"I saw something was off. One guy kept cracking his neck, nervous as hell. James told me to watch people, be observant. So I was."

Camila watched me, her gaze dissecting. Then, she slid a small box towards me. "Here, this is for you."

I hesitated, not eager to open Pandora's box.

"It's okay. Open it."

Reluctantly, I did. Inside, a stunning diamond bracelet glimmered. A bribe, a trap? I closed the box and pushed it back. "No. No thank you."

"You saved me fifty grand today. You've earned it," Camila clarified. But I wasn't buying my freedom with shiny trinkets.

"I don't want it. Thanks, but no thanks."

"I know you don't want to be here, Elena. I know how much it hurt losing Guero."

"You don't know shit about me."

Camila gave a small, mocking smile.

"No, but I know loss. You're not the only one who lost everything when you left Mexico. I lost my husband, my business, now I'm losing my daughter. Everything I built." Her voice was a cold wind. She pushed the box back. "This is yours. Take it... or not. It's your call. I'll have James hold onto it for you."

If I took it, she owned me. If I didn't, she still did. My options were as limited as a one-way street.

"Can I go?" I asked.

"I'll have James take you back."

I nodded, then stood, catching James's eye as he made his way over.

"Elena," Camila called, stopping me. "When life handed you the choice with that thief... you chose death. It wasn't easy, I know. I've made that call before. It was the right decision. Women in this business can't afford to look weak. You've proven well."

Her words were a mirror, reflecting back my dark, pragmatic side. I gave a curt nod and walked out, James trailing behind, my heart heavier than the diamond I left behind.