Chapter 2: The Black Car
I had always believed that the worst thing that could happen to a boy like me was being hungry.
I was wrong.
Hunger hurt, but fear could make your whole body forget how to move.
I stood beside the river, staring at Mateo Vargas and the three men surrounding him, while the black SUV waited with its rear door open.
No one spoke.
The crowd had disappeared.
People who had been cheering only moments earlier were suddenly gone, scattering down the street as if even being seen near Vargas might bring trouble to their doors.
I understood why.
But understanding did not make me trust him.
“You said my grandmother knew you,” I said.
Vargas nodded once.
“And you say someone is looking for me.””
“Yes.””
“Who?””
His expression hardened.
“I don't know exactly.””
I almost laughed.
“You don't know?””
“I know enough.””
He glanced toward his guards.
That small movement told me more than his words.
Whatever he was afraid of, he did not want his own men hearing about it.
The older guard stepped closer.
“Boss, we shouldn't stay here.””
Vargas ignored him.
His attention remained on me.
“What did Esperanza tell you before she died?””
I swallowed.
“She told me not to trust strangers.””
One of the guards almost smiled.
Vargas didn't.
“What else?””
“She told me to stay away from the old port.””
His eyes narrowed.
“Anything else?””
I hesitated.
There was something I had never understood about those final weeks with my grandmother.
She had become nervous.
She locked the door twice every night.
She covered the windows before sunset.
Once, I had woken in the middle of the night and found her sitting on the edge of the bed, holding an old metal box against her chest.
When she noticed me, she hid it beneath a blanket.
I had asked her what it was.
She had only said, “Something that doesn't belong to the living.””
At the time, I thought she was delirious.
Now I wasn't so sure.
“She had a box,” I said.
Vargas froze.
“What kind of box?””
“Small. Metal. Old.””
“Where is it?””
“I don't know.””
“That is important.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
He took a slow breath.
“Because your grandmother spent twenty-three years trying to keep it out of my hands.””
The words struck me harder than the river had.
“You said she saved your life.””
“She did.””
“Then why would she hide something from you?””
A shadow crossed his face.
“Because she knew me better than anyone.””
He turned toward the SUV.
“Get in.””
I stayed where I was.
“No.””
His guards exchanged looks.
Vargas sighed.
“You think I'm kidnapping you.””
“You are taking me somewhere I don't know.””
“Yes.””
“That sounds like kidnapping.””
For the first time, the corner of his mouth moved.
It wasn't quite a smile.
“You're a stubborn boy.””
“My grandmother said stubbornness keeps poor people alive.””
That wiped the faint amusement from his face.
He looked at me differently.
“Your grandmother said many things.””
I stepped closer.
“You really knew her?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
Before he could answer, a sharp crack split the air.
Everyone ducked.
A bullet struck the metal railing above us.
I didn't even understand what had happened until Vargas grabbed me and forced me down.
“Get him behind the car!””
His guards drew weapons.
Suddenly the riverbank exploded into movement.
One man ran toward the bridge.
Another pulled open the SUV door.
A second shot shattered a windshield.
I covered my head.
People screamed from the road.
Vargas pushed me against the side of the vehicle.
“Stay down.””
“Who's shooting?””
He didn't answer.
Another shot.
This one struck the dirt.
One of his men fired toward the far end of the bridge.
I heard tires screech.
Then a car sped away.
The gunfire stopped as quickly as it had begun.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Vargas stood first.
His guards rushed toward him.
“Boss, are you hit?””
“No.””
He looked down at me.
“Are you?””
I shook my head.
He offered his hand.
I stared at it.
Then took it.
His grip was firm.
The second I stood, he pulled me toward the SUV.
“We're leaving.””
“But my sack—”
“What?””
“My bottles.””
He stared at me as though I had just spoken another language.
“My sack,” I repeated.
“It can be replaced.””
“No, it can't.””
One of the guards looked confused.
I ran back several steps before anyone could stop me and grabbed the torn burlap sack from the riverbank.
The bottles were still inside.
I returned clutching it against my chest.
Vargas watched me.
“Those are worth about a dollar.””
“Maybe two.””
His expression changed.
Not pity.
Something more complicated.
“Get in.””
This time, I did.
The leather seat was softer than anything I had ever touched.
It smelled like expensive perfume and polished wood.
I sat stiffly near the door, afraid to damage something.
Vargas slid in beside me.
The doors locked.
The SUV pulled away.
I watched Ciudad de Esperanza through the tinted glass.
The river disappeared behind us.
Then the old bridge.
Then the church.
Then the market.
Everything familiar became smaller.
I suddenly realized I had no idea where we were going.
“Where are you taking me?””
“To my house.””
“I don't want to go to your house.””
“You need protection.””
“I don't need protection.””
Vargas looked at me.
“Someone just tried to kill you.””
“They were shooting at you.””
“They were shooting after you arrived.””
I said nothing.
He was right.
That frightened me more than I wanted to admit.
The SUV turned onto a wide boulevard lined with mansions.
I had never been there before.
Tall walls surrounded enormous houses.
Security cameras watched every entrance.
Guards stood beside gates.
I pressed my face to the window.
“Do you live here?””
“Yes.””
“How many rooms?””
He gave me a strange look.
“I don't know.””
“How can you not know?””
“I've never counted.””
I stared at him.
“That makes no sense.””
He almost smiled again.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
“What?””
A man's voice came through the speaker.
Vargas listened.
His face went cold.
“Repeat that.””
Silence.
“Are you certain?””
He ended the call.
“What happened?”” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Someone broke into Esperanza's old apartment.””
My chest tightened.
“Why?””
“Looking for the box.””
“Did they find it?””
“No.””
I let out a breath.
Then Vargas said something that made the air disappear from my lungs.
“They found something else.””
“What?””
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a photograph.
An old photograph.
He handed it to me.
I stared at the faded image.
There was my grandmother.
Much younger.
Her hair was long and dark.
She stood beside a man in a black suit.
I recognized him immediately.
Mateo Vargas.
But they weren't looking at the camera.
They were looking at each other.
And between them was a little girl.
Maybe five years old.
I looked closer.
I didn't know her.
But something about her face made my stomach twist.
“Who is she?””
Vargas didn't answer.
I turned the photograph over.
There were three words written in my grandmother's handwriting.
Protect her, Mateo.
I looked up.
“Who is this girl?””
Vargas took the photograph back.
“You don't remember her?””
“No.””
“You should.””
“I was born years later.””
His eyes sharpened.
“She was your mother.””
The inside of the SUV seemed to vanish.
“What?””
He watched me carefully.
“Your mother.””
My fingers began to shake.
“My mother died.””
“That's what you were told.””
“My grandmother said she died before I could remember her.””
“She lied.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
“She lied to protect you.””
“No.””
I looked away, trying to breathe.
My grandmother had never lied to me.
Not about anything.
She had been the one person in the world I trusted completely.
The one person who had stayed.
The one person who had fed me when there was nothing to eat.
The one person who had held my hand when I was sick.
“You're lying.””
Vargas said nothing.
“Why would she lie?””
“To keep you alive.””
I looked at him again.
“Is my mother alive?””
He stared through the windshield.
“I don't know.””
That answer scared me more than yes or no ever could.
The vehicle entered a massive iron gate.
Two armed guards opened it.
Beyond the walls stood Vargas's mansion.
It was enormous.
Stone columns.
Bright windows.
A fountain in the center of a circular drive.
But all I could think about was the photograph.
My mother.
A girl I had never met.
A secret my grandmother had apparently protected until her death.
The SUV stopped.
Vargas opened his door.
Before getting out, he looked at me.
“There is one more thing you need to know.””
I didn't move.
“What?””
He leaned closer.
“When your grandmother disappeared from my life twenty-three years ago, three men knew where she was.””
He paused.
“One is dead.””
“Who?””
“Me?””
“No.””
His eyes locked on mine.
“The second is the man who shot at us today.””
My heart began racing again.
“And the third?””
Vargas opened the door.
His voice dropped.
“The third man is your father.””
I couldn't speak.
Vargas stepped out.
Then he stopped.
May you like
Without looking back, he said the words that would haunt me for years.
“And he has been searching for you since the day you were born.””
