Blood Daughters: A Romilia Chacon Novel

Chapter 18

95 Chapter 18 In the car we tossed data to see what pieces were missing, what scenarios made sense. After twenty minutes we came up with little. I broke the silence. “So, what did he ask you to do?” “Who?” “Tekún Umán. Come on.” “Jeez, you’re worse than a teenager asking about a boyfriend.” “Was he your boyfriend?” “Romi quit being so goddamn jealous.” “I’m not jealous.” “Yes you are, you’re jealous and you wear it like bad perfume.” She laughed at me. “Well you’re the one he hung around with all the time. Both of you living in that house outside of Tijuana.” I was probing, with a little tease here and there; but whenever I teased, it opened up something that pissed me off. “And you, I mean shit, Nancy. A mole. You actually keep doing it, you’re still working for the Bureau, acting like nothing ever happened. Every time you walk into the office you’re lying. And I have to go along with the lie. Here you were, working for an international drug runner, reporting to him whenever the Feds got close to his ass. Why don’t you just leave the Bureau, quit living this lie—?” She braked, swerved, and pulled over on the side of a very desolate road. I lurched in my seat. She unbuckled her belt in order to lean in that much closer to me. “Now listen to me, you whining . . . It was a mistake, what I said earlier, about Tekún asking me to do very little in return for all he had done for 96 ~ Blood Daughters me. He was like a father to me, he never asked for anything, until four years ago. Then he asked if I would like to do one, single thing. Become a Federal Agent. Get to the Los Angeles Field Office—“ “And be a narc.” Oh, I was mad. “No. To protect you.” It’s quiet out in the desert, especially with the motor turned off. Already the heat was making its way through the roof. “What?” “He asked me to be your bodyguard, Romi. Live with it.” “Bullshit. Don’t tell me you didn’t call him every time we had a lead on his whereabouts.” “Ah, shit.” She turned the motor over, shoved the car into gear. “You are the most pigheaded guanaca I’ve ever met.” She sprayed two large fans of gravel behind us. 7 Ten minutes later. I began it. “Well?” “Well what?” “Did you ever narc out? Did you tell Tekún whenever the Feds were getting close?” Nancy laughed. “It never happened. The Feds never figured out where he was. There was no need to call.” That stung. But it was true. “Did you want us to get him, Romi?” “We’ve got a job to do.” “That’s not an answer.” “Dejáme vos en paz, carajo.” But she wasn’t about to leave me in peace. “He just wanted to make sure you were okay, especially when he couldn’t be around.” I stared out my window at the desert. “So when did he come up with this brilliant plan?” “Once he heard, back in Nashville, that the Feds wanted to hire you. He made arrangements. I was at Quantico the year after you were there. I got to L.A. as soon as I could.” Marcos M. Villatoro ~ 97 “So all this time you’ve had my back.” I said it with a thick dollop of sarcasm. “Since the moment I met you, amiga.” I held my forehead as if a huge migraine had invaded. “Is that what you are?” I said. “Like I said before. Your best friend.” “And what was Tekún?” I looked at her. “A man who loved you, more than I’ve seen any man love anybody. God knows why.” Half kidding, half serious. “I know you find it hard to believe, but he would die for you, Romilia.” “Die for me. If he were alive.” I turned away, because the eyes, again, started to steam over. When was I going to get over him? “Right,” said Nancy. ...