We ran up the sidewalk until I saw another alley then brought Violetta down that one and around the corner. I stopped us beside a dumpster that sat behind a café, a couple of stray cats sleeping in the shade.
“Violetta,” I said to her, putting one hand on her good arm and trying to get her to look at me. Her cheeks were wet and dirty, a mess of mascara and tears. She was shaking and sobbing softly. “Violetta, listen to me. Do you know who those men were?”
She shook her head. “No,” she cried. “I didn’t recognize them. Javier told me to go to my room but I wanted to see what was going on. It looked like he heard something out in the hallway. He hid near the door and suddenly a group of men came in the room and started shooting.”
“And you didn’t recognize them?”
She let out a loud sob, shaking her head even more, her forehead scrunched in pain. “No, I don’t know. They looked like cartel men. Bad men.”
Obviously.
“My arm, I think it’s broken,” she whimpered.
I nodded. “I know. We’ll get it fixed, but we have to get Camden and your brother.”
“Screw Javier!” she yelped. “He’s what got us into this in the first place.”
I smiled grimly. “I know. But you don’t mean that. You can’t leave him behind.”
“He left me behind! He forgot I existed.”
“And we’re better than that.” I gave her a steady look, my eyes imploring hers. “Okay? We’re going to go back to your place–”
“No!” she cried out.
“We’re going back to your place,” I said, my voice harder, “and we’re getting my car. Then we’re going to find them. And then we’re gone. You can do this.”
I stared at her for a few moments until she relented with a nod. Then we moved down the alley that ran parallel to the main road until we were back on her street. Jose was still sitting on the side of the road.
Only now I realized that Javier had the car keys.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
“What?”
“I have to hotwire it.”
“So do it.”
I gave her a wry look.
Suddenly the air was filled with a flurry of shouts and Spanish. I looked over at her apartment building and saw a few men on the balcony of one of the apartments, pointing at us and flipping out.
“Do it I shall,” I said. I opened the door (no point in locking it since half the windows were shot out) and ushered Violetta into the backseat, where she could lie down, and then jumped into the front. Even though I’d been driving Jose for most of the last six years, my car-stealing skills were still pretty sharp. After crossing wires for a few seconds, Jose roared to life, his engine loud and proud, and I gunned him out of the parking spot just as a group of men came running out of the apartment for us.
“Persistent,” I grumbled and spun the car around the corner. Despite the circumstances, it felt f**king great to be driving my car again.
I took Jose zooming down the one-way street, swerving in and out of traffic while trying to keep an eye on the roofs that whipped past us. Dust flew up in our wake, coating us through the windows and I narrowly missed smashing into a motorcycle. I was glad Violetta was in the back and whimpering softly, it made it easier to concentrate when the only screams you heard were in your head.
My stomach began to twist on itself when I realized I had no idea where Javier and Camden were, if they were still alive, still running. The houses in this barrio kept going on and on, family after family after family packed into these ramshackle dwellings like sweltering sardines.
I’d almost clipped a bus in front of me when I suddenly saw a dark figure running on the roof, his head disappearing behind the occasional awning and the back of the bus. It was one of the cartel men and he was chasing someone, which had to mean that Camden and Javier were up ahead.
I exhaled briefly with hope, before pushing the pedal to the floor and going up the shoulder, trying to get ahead of the bus. There was a stack of bicycles up ahead and I was either going to hit them, the bus, or the people on the dirt sidewalk.
I chose the bicycles. I gunned the car harder, the rear wheels spinning furiously and braced for impact.
“Hold on!” I yelled to Violetta and then screamed as Jose plowed into them. The bicycles flew up onto the hood, cracking the windshield in the corner, before clattering across the roof. “Sorry!”
Then I whipped the car in front of the bus to a round of angry honks from the driver and finally saw Camden and Javier on the roofs, still running for their lives. I grinned to myself, despite the severity of the situation, and let out a relieved laugh. Somewhere in the back of my masochistic head, I had been so certain that Camden would be done for. I hadn’t wanted to think about it but I was sure that Javier would have ditched him along the way. Or killed him.
“I see them,” I told Violetta.
“Camden’s still alive?” she asked weakly.
I wasn’t the only with that idea.
“So far,” I told her.
“I can tell my brother wants to kill him,” she said.
I rubbed my lips together, my hands gripping the wheel harder. “He hasn’t yet.” I shot her a look over my shoulder. “Just hang tight okay? I’m going to try and get their attention and pull up ahead.”
I drove a bit faster, trying to keep up in the traffic that was growing increasingly heavier, and was about to start honking my horn like crazy when I saw the unthinkable happen.
Javier and Camden both jumped from one roof to another, the gap not too wide, but when Camden landed, it looked like his weight broke through part of the roofing and he went down, sinking in until I could only see him from the shoulders up.
I gasped, slowing the car so I could watch, the bus behind me honking again.
The man in pursuit started firing at them, closer now.
Camden was f**ked.
A sitting duck.
And Javier … Javier stopped.
He stopped and raised his gun and tried to fire off a few rounds at the man but I could see from the frustration in his face that he was out of ammo. He hastily tucked his gun back into his pants and then crouched down to help Camden up.
“What’s going on?” Violetta asked, trying to sit up. “Why are we slowing?”
“Javier is helping Camden,” I said absently. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, other than the fact that I was grateful. Cautiously grateful.