CHAPTER 200 Blindsided
*Lisa*
I was about to open the front passenger door of my mother’s car when she stopped me.
“Honey, sit in the back, please,” my mother said, already sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Is Dad with you?” I asked, confused. I squinted through the heavily tinted windows, but they revealed nothing.
“It’s a surprise,” she replied curtly. “Come on, Lisa. For once, just do as you’re told.” She gestured toward the back door. “Get in.”
*Silly me*. Of course, Dad wasn’t with her. He never let Mom drive when they were together.
I nodded meekly, opened the back door, and slid inside. That’s when I saw him—a man in the front passenger seat.
“Hello, Lisa,” he said, turning to face me. I gasped. His face was grotesque, scarred and weathered beyond recognition. *Who was this man*? *And how did he know my name*? “Please excuse my appearance. It was… necessary. How are you? It’s been a while.”
That voice. I froze. I knew that voice.
“You remember Capo Bastone Pedro Cadena, don’t you, dear?” Mom asked, locking all the doors with a click. I tugged at my door handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
*Shit*. No way out.
“Of course, I know Pete,” I said, forcing politeness to mask my panic. “Sorry, Mama, but what’s he doing here?”
“He’s asked for our help, Lisa. You know I can’t say no to family,” my mother replied as she pulled out of the airport parking lot.
“Help?” I scoffed. “Why should I help the man who turned my husband into a monster?”
“Lisa,” Pete said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “I never forced Cris to do anything he didn’t choose. Did I force him to rape Joy? No. Did I order him to kidnap and assault those other girls? No. He was paid well for his work—helped fund his campaign, didn’t it?”
I knew Cris was involved in some really abhorrent shit, but hearing it so bluntly made my stomach churn.
“Well, he’s dead,” I said through gritted teeth. “Thanks to you.”
“On the contrary,” Pete said, almost gleefully, “he might still be alive.”
*What*? My heart sank. It couldn’t be true. I was finally starting to move on. Cris *couldn’t* be alive.
“I’d like to believe the detectives who told me my husband was dead,” I said, hiding my dread behind skepticism. “Unless Cris has been with you this whole time, or you know where he’s hiding. Which is it, Pete?” I waited, but he stayed silent. “Your silence is deafening. You don’t know where he is, do you? Yet you’re so sure he’s alive, even after *you* called me to say I’d never find him because you heard Joy Taylor paid Doña Ortiz for a sanctioned hit.”
“What?” My mother exclaimed, her eyes darting to me in the rearview mirror. “A sanctioned hit? On who?”
“You know who,” I snapped. “Don’t play dumb.”
“She’ll go after the three men who raped her, no question,” my mother said, her voice steady but grim. “But what about those indirectly involved? Like you, Lisa. Do you think Joy’s coming for you too?”
The thought hadn’t crossed my mind until now. “I… I don’t think so,” I stammered. “Why would she? I didn’t know what was going to happen." I rubbed my forehead, worried and scared. "This is all your fault, Mother. You kept nagging me to help Liam and his friends with their ‘plan’ for Joy at the spring dance. So when Nicole asked me to get Joy to the gym, I did. I thought—”
“You thought what? That Liam was planning a harmless prank? Come on, Lisa,” Pete interrupted, snickering. “By the way, where *is* Nicole? I haven't heard from her."
“She’s still in the hospital, I believe,” I answered. “Car accident on Main and Prairie, the night after Theodore Cohen died.” As those words left my mouth, a realization struck. “Wait… you don’t think Joy had something to do with that, do you?”
I closed my eyes, my anxiety clawing at me. Was Joy Taylor really back, hunting us down one by one? If so, would she listen to me if I tried to explain?
*Of course not*.
*No amount of begging would stop her*.
“It adds up,” my mother said, almost to herself as she drove. “Cynthia, Theodore, Nicole, and maybe Cris. But what about Abigail? She was in a car accident a few weeks ago. That can’t be Joy—because Abigail wasn’t involved. Actually, she’s the one who found Joy half-dead in the gym. If not for her, Joy wouldn’t have survived.”
She had a point. Abigail was innocent in all this. Maybe we were just paranoid.
“Abigail fell asleep at the wheel,” I said, trying to convince myself. “And Nicole wasn’t wearing her seatbelt—that’s why she was thrown from her car. Ford Martin’s accused of killing Theodore Cohen while Cris’s death was ruled a suicide. Two accidents, one murder with a suspect, one suicide. They’re not connected.” I turned to Pete. “What about your mother? Do you know who killed her?”
“I thought it was Alejandro De Vega,” Pete said. “But he swears it wasn’t him. He thinks it's Joy because she paid Doña Ortiz two million to exact her revenge.”
“You believe that creep?” I asked, incredulous. “I visited him to ask about Cris. He took my money and told me it was none of my business.”
"Well, how would he have known about Joy Taylor if it wasn't true?" Pete asked. *Good point*.
"He could have asked around or he could have hired a private detective to do some digging," my mother answered nonchalantly. "Enough about Joy Taylor. We’re letting our imaginations run wild. Lisa’s right, Capo Bastone—the deaths and accidents don’t point to Joy. If she’s after anyone, it’s probably Liam Cohen. Good riddance. I’m tired of a Cohen running New Salem anyway."
“Same here, Tía,” Pete said, a grin in his voice. “I want Liam dead—but not before he suffers.”
“Hold on,” I interrupted. “Pete, why do you think Cris is still alive?”
“He’s got someone doing his dirty work,” Pete said, though he sounded less certain now. “Has he contacted you at all?”
“No,” I answered sharply. “You mean to tell me Cris hired someone? That’s not Cris’ style. That sounds more like Joy Taylor. Honestly, I doubt she's working alone."
“*Mierda*,” Mom muttered. “Capo Bastone, you owe me big time. You’d probably be dead if it weren’t for me.”
“Of course, Tía,” Pete replied. “But I need one more favor. A small one... from Lisa. Don't worry. It’s nothing you haven’t done before.”
“Spit it out, Pete,” I said, my patience fraying. “What do you want? You’ve already ruined Cris. Now you’re coming for me and my mother?”
“Lisa, be polite,” my mother snapped. “You will address him as Capo Bastone.”
I leaned back, crossing my arms like a petulant child. I wanted no part of this. Pete and the organization were a curse.
“Underboss, huh?” I said, glaring at my mother through the rearview mirror. “What’s in it for you, Mother? You never do favors for free.”
“Mind your manners,” she shot back. “The organization comes first. I was given a task, and I saw it through. Now the Capo Bastone has one for you.”
I caught her eye in the rearview mirror. Her eyebrow twitched—her telltale sign of lying. I bit my lip to keep from cursing her out.
“What do you want, Capo Bastone?” I asked, barely containing my urge to slam both their heads into the dashboard. I didn’t want this. I didn’t need this.
“That’s the Lisa I know,” Pete said, chuckling. “As I mentioned, it’s quite small. Easy for you.”
“Spit it out!” I shouted.
“Lisa!” My mother scolded, her eyes flashing with disapproval.
“It’s fine, Tía,” Pete said, waving off my outburst. “No need for formalities. Lisa, I need you to keep tabs on Virtue for me, confirm her attendance to the spring formal at New Salem High, and when she's there, lure her away from Liam."
My jaw dropped. I stared at the back of his head, speechless.
My mother was mistaken.
I wasn't just surprised— I was blindsided.
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