Chapter 11 - THE DEED
Renata stared at Teresa.
“That’s a lie.”
Teresa laughed again.
“No.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your father borrowed money from me twenty-seven years ago.”
Renata’s gun lowered half an inch.
“He built this house with it.”
“No.”
“He never paid me.”
“You’re lying.”
“He transferred the land as collateral.”
Renata shook her head harder.
“No.”
Teresa looked almost pleased.
“The deed is in my safe.”
César snapped, “Shut her up.”
But Andrés finally understood why his mother had insisted on keeping so many old property records.
Renata had chosen the one place she thought nobody could take from her.
And it belonged to Teresa.
Teresa continued.
“You hated me for owning the house in Zapopan.”
Renata’s face crumpled.
“You own this too?”
“Yes.”
For one reckless second, Andrés nearly smiled.
Then César struck Teresa across the face.
“Enough!”
Andrés moved.
Gun lifted.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
César shoved the papers at him.
“Sign.”
Andrés took the pen.
Outside, somewhere in the darkness, Salgado and the team were waiting.
They needed a clean opportunity.
Andrés had to create one.
He looked at Renata.
“After I sign, what happens?”
“You leave.”
“With Mom?”
Renata didn’t answer.
Andrés nodded slowly.
“Right.”
“Just sign.”
“You’re going to kill us.”
“Andrés.”
“You already decided.”
Renata’s hands began trembling.
“I didn’t want this.”
“Then put the gun down.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No.”
“Renata.”
Her eyes met his.
For one second he saw the woman he had married.
Scared.
Young.
Uncertain.
Then César said, “Don’t listen to him.”
Andrés spoke softly.
“Remember Puerto Vallarta?”
Renata’s lips parted.
“What?”
“Our second anniversary.”
“Stop.”
“You lost your sandals.”
“Stop.”
“We walked barefoot back to the hotel.”
Tears appeared.
Real ones.
“You said you didn’t care where we lived as long as I came home.”
“Shut up.”
“You had a life.”
“Shut up!”
“You destroyed it.”
Renata raised the pistol toward him.
Andrés didn’t move.
“Go ahead.”
Teresa shouted, “No!”
César laughed.
“You soldiers always think you’re heroes.”
Andrés looked at him.
“No.”
Then he looked toward the candle.
“We think about angles.”
He kicked the concrete table.
The candle fell.
Darkness.
A gunshot.
Teresa screamed.
Andrés lunged toward the muzzle flash.
He hit César at the waist.
They crashed into the wall.
Another shot.
Renata screamed.
Boots thundered downstairs.
“POLICE!”
César drove a knee into Andrés’s ribs.
Andrés lost his breath.
Gun between them.
He grabbed César’s wrist.
Twisted.
Bone cracked.
César howled.
Renata’s pistol fired again.
A body fell.
Andrés couldn’t see who.
“TERESA!”
No answer.
Salgado’s flashlight exploded into the room.
“DROP IT!”
Renata stood near the chair.
Gun in hand.
César lay beneath Andrés.
And Teresa—
May you like
Teresa was on the floor.
Blood spreading beneath her.
