Blood Under the Bridge: A Cartel Revenge Thriller by Lee Dawson

Author:Lee Dawson [Dawson, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elite Edition
Published: 2023-02-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ellie didn’t work the next day at the drug house; she wasn’t sure if anyone did. All she got was a text from Phillip telling her to take the day off. It seemed the cartel’s evaluation of Phillip’s operation was still underway. She’d thought she was safe after the first purge around Thanksgiving, but safety was a fool’s hope.

When she pulled up to the house the next day, unfamiliar faces carried boxes into the house. A few trucks filled the driveway. She ignored them as she made her way through the door.

The mechanic was on the phone when she walked in. As she walked passed, he snapped his fingers and held up a hand to stop her.

“Should anyone else be worried?” he said into the phone. He paused for a moment. “Good.” After hanging up, he turned to her. “Help load the trucks.”

She didn’t argue. When she had a minute, Ellie went to the backyard to grab a quick smoke. She sat on the concrete steps of the patio. No shade held back the morning sun.

The little green grass that had covered the yard now lay in clumps in the corner. Half the dirt was turned over and white streaks mixed in with the brown.

When she lowered the cigarette to knock off a few ashes, the rancid smell of the yard overtook the nicotine.

When she was a child, her father took her to the ranches south of the border where some family friends ran cattle. It was spring, about this time of year, and branding time. With each rod they stamped on a cattle’s hip, she plugged her nose tighter against the smoke. When she couldn’t breathe anymore, she opened her mouth to suck in air. The smell of burnt flesh filled her mouth, coating her taste buds. She spit but couldn’t get out the taste.

She tasted that smell now. Her hand shook as she brought the cigarette to her mouth to cancel it out. She stared at the turned-up dirt and wondered at who lay beneath.

Someday soon she would send a letter to the old lady, La Buscadora, about who might be found here. In that letter, she would finally pass on Michael’s photo. It was time to admit, her husband wasn’t coming home.

In the meantime, Ellie took an old pocketknife she kept on her keychain and carved Carlos’s name and the year into the wooden fence. The letters were small and almost invisible. She returned to her work.

Phillip came in as she walked back in through the sliding glass. “Do you have extra clothes? Nice clothes?”

“I’ve got some jeans and a t-shirt to wear across the border.”

Phillip shook his head. “Not good enough. What about the clothes you wore last night?”

She’d worked at the club the night before. “I guess, but they’re in a Wal-Mart bag in my backseat.”

Phillip turned and yelled, “Hey, Allan, where’s an iron?” He turned back to Ellie. “You have fifteen minutes to look presentable. I need you for another meeting.”

A world away

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