El Patron

Palermo, Mexico City

Twenty-four Hours Earlier

At twenty-seven, he was ready to die. Revenge was bittersweet yet he had accomplished what he had set out to do, his one goal when he found out he was among the living.

For years, he had suffered in torment. The dreams. Their cries. His father's dead eyes blurred by tears and blood.

He carried them all. Sanity was a privilege. Long had his been gone.

The demons crave blood. Plaguing him. Whispering. Tempting.

He had served his purpose. He had killed them all. No regrets. No remorse.

He didn't know why they had to save him. Dying would have given him peace.

"Urg!" His loud growl reverberated in the four corners of his room. He was alone. So alone. Months had passed since he almost died from saving a friend and it was getting harder and harder to recover. He wished they left him to die. He would have found peace then.

Those voices again. Like swarming bees. He would do anything for peace to find him. Anything. Distractions didn't work.

Women. He tried fucking them. Taking and discarding them. After a year. He stopped. He couldn't bear their whining. And it just wouldn't work. They were a temporary relief.  But he felt ashamed of his actions. SHE wouldn't approve. They wouldn't approve.

Killing. He tried killing his enemies and traitors, as brutally as possible. Bathing in their blood. It still didn't work.

Since his last kissed with death, he locked himself in his room. Shunning everyone.

His organization kept him busy. The empire his father left him was the only thing preventing him from ending his life.

Their people banked on his success. In his direction for their future. Many of those came from poor barrios all over Mexico. His father took them in and gave them a secure and better life.

He will do anything to live up to his father's legacy.

Deep in the darkness of the night, his wound throb, he gritted his teeth. "Puta!" Cursing the pain, he stalked to his liquor cabinet, pouring himself a hefty amount of aged brandy.

The grandfather clock had struck midnight. His full fleshy lips thinned.

No sleep for him. Work it is then.

***

It had been a week since his return from The Americas, a lot of paperwork had piled on his desk.

He had no second in command. No secretary and no able-bodied men capable of helping him run his lucrative empire.

Those around him these days were his underbosses and his hardened private army. Though he knew they can be trusted, with what happened to his former second in command, a blood cousin, he became overly cautious. No. He didn't fear for himself. He feared for his people. Those who depended on him and his leadership.

Maybe he should call a very trusted friend of his late father. He required the old man's expertise.

Dawn was approaching and his time spent on work had not done much damage to the huge pile on his desk. His deep brown eyes were bloodshot and there was a constant frown marring his forehead.

Fuck! I need help.

Resigning to the inevitable, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed a familiar number.

It rang five times before his call was answered by a gruff sleepy voice.

"You better have a fucking good reason for calling me..."

He smirked. Always the grumpy old bear. "It's me, tio."

Frantic movements were heard, rustling sheets and a soft womanly voice groaned in protest. Always the attentive lover, his tio.

"Is something wrong, mijo?"

"No. I...ah...I decided to spend time at the hacienda." Their deep Spanish accent was loud in the silence of dawn.

"I see." A hesitant and vague answer.

He frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"No...no...everything is fine. Do you want me to come and get you?"

This time he couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm more than 8, Tio Ramon."

"Cheeky boy. Si, bueno. I will have everything ready when you come home, mijo."

"I know. We will close this place. Everyone will be coming home with me. It's time for me to choose my second in command. I hope you had prepared our men well, tío Ramon." He had the utmost confidence his esteemed caretaker had followed his edicts to a tee.

"I did, El Patrón. Only the best for our organization." The confidence in the old man's voice settled any misgivings he was feeling.

"Gracias. I always knew I could count on you." He trusted his father's friend with his life for he had proven his loyalty time and time again. Ramon even nurtured him back to life.

"Your Tia Juanita will be excited." Ah. Tia. A very important woman in his life.  The only one he had allowed close to him after what happened to his....suppressing a snarl, he stood and paced to the opened windows.

When will he have peace? -When I die.-

He cleared his throat. Quashing his growl. Going back to his past was dangerous.

"I'll be there soon." He responded in a rough voice. Deigning not to respond to the enthusiasm in Ramon's voice, he ended the call without saying anything else.

Puta! He was a lost cause.

***

Three firm raps on his study, a sign of respect before a familiar woman entered.

"El Patron," she bowed and stood before his desk.

Some part of him twisted in pain. She reminded him so much of his sweet little sister.

"Lucinda," he acknowledged in a controlled voice and went back to perusing an important document - more like to compose himself- and he glanced once again at the concerned look of his and his sister's niñera. It's a rare thing he allowed anyone inside his sanctuary. "We are going home."

That's all he had to say. She will know what to do. He could feel the happiness radiating from the caring woman before him. He couldn't fault her. She must have missed her sister, Juanita.

"That is wonderful news, hijo. I will have the household prepare at once." He grunted and kept his attention to his work. "When are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. Have everything ready."

"Si. At once, El Patron. Anything you need before I go?"

"No."

"Bueno. I'll bring your breakfast in a little while." With lighter steps, his nanny went back to the kitchen. He could hear her rapid-fire instruction in her customary general-like enthusiasm. His mother would be so proud of...

He sighed heavily. They all reminded him of his lost family. Even going home, where he grew up, where his father and mother shared their unconditional love with their children was a painful reminder of what he had lost. It had been years since he was home. Truly home.

The household he was protecting tried to fill the gap but something was missing. His soul together with his sanity had long since left him.

No purpose. No future.

***

Sonora, Mexico

Rancho de Montero

In daylight, it was an easy drive navigating through towns and villages. Everything was familiar. From an old butcher's post to an old pub, his former sire frequented together with the ranch's hands, and his mother's favorite local bakery.

The road led to dips, dust, and hallows then a familiar clearing. A mountain range surrounding a magnificent Spanish Villa. He knew of a river he retired to whenever the training was too much.

Everywhere his dark eyes fell, recognized his dead mother's loving touch. His heart squeezed. Tia Juanita had everything conserved even after all these years.

Their convoy turned south and carefully crossed the stone bridge. Old remnants from the past, his father had carefully maintained it.

Scattered buildings and quaint cottages were passed by before a change in the landscape made him grit his teeth.

He was home. His car stopped right at the entrance.

His mansion, large and majestic, stood proud before him. Waiting for its owner.

He felt like snarling. With a heavy heart. He counted to ten before he allowed his driver to open the door for him. His people were gathered to greet him.

Juanita and her sister Lucinda embraced before him. Excited and happy. Then they both turned to him with a wide and welcoming smile.

His face remained hard and his jaw was ticking. No!  He was not game for an affectionate embrace. In all his legendary career, he had not even kissed a woman. He just fucked them then leave them.

Sensing his hesitation, Tia Juanita widened her smile even more and inclined her head. "Rafael, mijo."

"Tia." That was all he had to say. "I don't want to be disturb."

Without a backward glance, he left them to celebrate a much-awaited reunion.

Where he would never belong.

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