Amor y Contrabando

Frankie lay motionless on the ground. His hazel eyes struggling to stay open as his friends began to crowd around him. He could hear their voices in the distance, asking him if he was alright, and he wanted to answer, he wanted to say something that would reassure them that he was alive, but all he could do was blink, and even that was painful for him. There wasn’t a spot on his body where he hadn’t been beaten, where the men from the Sinaloa Cartel hadn’t left their mark, and despite the fact that the beating had ended long ago, the pain lingered on. It was hard to breathe. It was exhausting to stay awake. Not even when he got injured in an explosion in Afghanistan had he been in so much pain. Those bastards from the cartel had worked relentlessly to break him, had they wanted to, they could’ve killed him, but they let him live, because they wanted Frankie to demonstrate their abilities, they wanted him to carry a message.

“Frankie.” Seraphina called to him, her dark brown eyes welling with tears. “Frank, please say something . . . please, don’t be dead.” Unsure of what to do she lifted her index finger to his nose and when she felt his breathing, she was overcome with joy. “He’s alive!” she cried! “Someone, get an ambulance out here!” she ordered. “Tell them that he’s gonna need a helicopter to be transferred to a bigger hospital! What the fuck are you standing around for? Someone go take care of that!” Seraphina returned her attention to him. She wanted to scoop him up in her arms and kiss his forehead out of joy. She also wanted to ask him if he knew where Benjamin was, but that would’ve been tasteless. “You’re gonna be okay, Frankie. They’ll get you fixed up in the hospital, and by the time you’re out, we’re gonna have fucked up the bastards that did this to you. I swear on my life, I’ll get them all.” She gently brushed some hair away from his face. “You just have to tell me who did this. That’s all you have to do.”

He tried to talk, but he couldn’t even open his lips without flinching in pain.

“You can’t talk,” she whispered, knowingly. “Okay. We’ll do something else then. I'm going to say who I think did it and then just try to nod or shake your head; you don’t even have to do it all the way, just half ass it and I’ll figure it out.” She took in a breath to calm her nerves. “Was it the cartel? Was it the fuckers from Sinaloa?”

He gave her a half nod for a response.

“Those fucking bastards!” she growled. “It’s one thing to beat on Daniel and me, but another to fuck with you guys.” She clenched her teeth out of frustration. “I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I’ll make them pay. I promise you, Frankie.”

“We’ll fuck them up.” Matt promised. “We’re gonna make those fuckers regret the day they crossed paths with Marines.”

The others made similar promises, pledging that every last member of the Sinaloa Cartel would either be killed or turned over to the American judicial system, where many had extradition orders pending. In the heat of the moment, they weren’t thinking about the hardships that would arise by undertaking such an ambitious venture. In the moment, all they could think about was getting justice for their friend who’d almost been beaten to death. The guys were so concerned over Frankie that they had completely forgotten about Benjamin. Their minds were focused on the person before them, not the person that was missing. And the only person other than Seraphina that was thinking about the statuesque Irish-American was Daniel.

So it was him that brought up the subject. “Aren’t we gonna ask about Benjamin?” asked Daniel, his voice low.

It was then that the others remembered that Frankie had been charged with protecting Benjamin. It had been his duty to get their best friend’s boyfriend to England where he would be safe, but that hadn’t gone as planned, and they looked from Frankie to Seraphina, with pity in their eyes. They knew something had happened to Benjamin. They understood why it was that Frankie had gotten beat.

Seraphina lowered her gaze, not wanting to see the looks her friends were shooting her, but despite her aversion, she could still feel their looks burning into her. She could feel their pity, their fear, their uncertainty, and all she could do was look down at the bloodied face of Frankie. His beating had been worse than hers or Daniel’s; they’d taken him to the brink of death to demonstrate their abilities to her, to show her that they weren’t messing around.

“They took him, didn’t they?” she knew the answer, they all did, but she had to have it confirmed.

Again, Daniel gave her a half nod.

“I thought as much,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face, leaving their marks on her dirt and blood stained cheeks.

From his place on the concrete, Frankie looked up at her, his heart breaking at the sight of his oldest friend crying. They’d been friends since kindergarten. On the first day of school they had both taken Power Rangers lunchboxes to class and during lunch, when they took them out, they moved towards each other to start talking about their favorite show. Over the years, he had seen her cry. She cried at their high school graduation, she cried when he told her that he joined the Marines, and every time he left for another tour of duty, she’d cry some more, but her tears had always been out of fear. This time they weren’t out of fear, that is to say, not completely, this time it was heartbreak that brought on the tears, this time it was devastation. And it was his fault. He’d failed her. He’d sworn that he’d protect her boyfriend that he’d make sure that Benjamin started a new life, a safe life in England and that he’d look after him for as long as he lived, but the cartel had sent nine men after them. They had laid out a trap, a truck had been placed as a barrier in front of them, and when he went in reverse a big rig had swept in to block their path. Frankie tried to ram the Ford truck in front of them out of the way, when that he failed, he tried to shoot them to safety, but there had been too many, he’d been overpowered.

“I . . .” he croaked out, grimacing at the painful exertion. “. . . s-sorry . . . “

“Shh,” she cooed. “Don’t apologize, Francis. I know you did everything you could for him. I know those bastards didn’t get him easily, so don’t apologize, you don’t have to.” Her bottom quivered. “I'm the one that’s sorry for having dragged you in this mess.” She leant forwards and placed a kiss on his forehead, then straightened herself back up and stared at her friends. “I'm sorry guys. This is my fault.”

“And mine.” Daniel chimed in.

Seraphina nodded. “It’s our fault.”

“That’s bullshit,” said Carlos.

“How’s that bullshit?” questioned Seraphina, gruffly. “They came here for our drugs. They fucked Frankie up, because he was taking care of MY boyfriend! This is our fault. There’s no arguing that. And I know you all promised to avenge what happen to Frankie, but the only people doing anything about it are Daniel and me.”

“Fuck that!” they cried.

She ignored their outburst. “You guys are going to look after Frankie, make sure he’s alright. And we’ll do what we have to.”

“There’s no way in hell either of you are going to fight that cartel on your own.” Carlos declared. “Whether you like it or not, we’re coming along for the ride.”

“You might die.” She said.

“No offense, but we’ve all made it out of Iraq and Afghanistan, so I don’t think a bunch of fucking narcos are going to take us down. We’ve lived through shit those fuckers have never even dreamed of.” Carlos glanced over at the guys who were nodding in agreement. “What’s going to happen is that two of us are going to stay to guard Frankie. The rest of us are gonna get our shit together, and do whatever it is you two, plan on doing.”

“Stubborn assholes,” she cursed, glaring at them.

“You’re one to talk. You’re the worst out of all us.” Matt reminded.

She fully planned on telling him off, but the sounds of sirens caught their attention. Her eyes immediately darted to Frankie, who could only faintly make out their sound.

“The ambulance is coming,” she said, excitedly. “You’re going to be alright, Frankie. They’re almost here.”

“Hey,” Joel called to her. “What the fuck are we gonna say happened to him?”

The color drained from her face, she hadn’t thought of that. “I . . . uh, we’ll tell them we found him on the side of the road like this. And I mean we did, they threw him out. I’ll call Pritchard, and explain what happened to Frankie so he can cover for us.”

The ambulance and police car were drawing closer. They were only a few blocks away now; just a left turn and they’d be on their street.

“Finn, Niel, you guys should probably get inside.” Joshua spoke up. “If they see you two like this, they’ll know we didn’t just find him here.”

“You’re right.” Seraphina wiped away her tears. “You’ll be alright, Frankie. We’ll take care of everything, make all the necessary arrangements, you just focus on getting better.” She kissed his forehead and then, with the help of Joshua, stood up. “Ethan, Rigs, please carry Daniel inside. Matt, go along with Frankie. Tell them that he’s your life partner, and if they try to stop you from going, throw a fucking fit and say you’ll sue for discrimination.”

“You got it, Finn.” Matt took her place beside Frankie.

“And Joel?” she called to her dark haired friend.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Rummage up some guns, pack bags for you, Matt and Frankie, and follow them to the hospital. You two will be charged with taking care of him.”

Joel wanted to protest. He wanted to see action in Mexico, but the firmness in her voice made it clear that she’d made up her mind. “Yes, Finn,” he said, and then went over to Daniel’s house to do as he’d been ordered.

“If Pritchard shows up, send him in. I’ll be in the living room.” Seraphina told Anders, and then proceeded to make her way inside her house. She was halfway in when Matt shouted for her to wait. “What happened?” she asked, confused by his outburst.

“This . . .” he paused, unsure of how to continue. “. . . This was in Frankie’s pocket.”

Her chest constricted violently at the sight of the black jewelry box. “No.” The word came out softly, like a prayer. “No!” her voice grew louder, angrier. “I . . .” her legs gave out beneath her; she fell on the ground, sobs wracking her body.

Carlos, seeing the ambulance turn onto the street, did the only thing he could. He grabbed the box from Matt and shoved it in his pocket, and then scooped Seraphina into his arms, and ran inside with her. Once inside, he kicked the front door shut, and placed her on the couch, opposite of where Daniel was resting.

“Give me the box!” she demanded, hysterically. “Give me the fucking box!”

The jewelry box was quickly pulled out of his jacket pocket and handed over to Seraphina, whom greedily snatched it from his hands. She stared at it with a crazed look in her eyes, feeling that the ring would offer her some solace, that it would give her the strength to undertake the massive risk that going up against a cartel would entail, but when she opened the box, there was no diamond ring waiting for her, there was a neatly folded piece of paper. With trembling hands, she reached out for it, recoiling when her finger tips brushed against its smooth surface, but after a moment of wrestling with herself, she reached out for it again, taking it into her possession. As she carefully opened the paper, she held her breath, acting at is if it were a bomb she was trying to defuse, instead of a note. She expected to find a few scribble lines, orders that they wanted her to follow or a ransom note, but there was none of that. On the paper there was only one messily written word.

Cooperate.

A feral growl erupted from her lips as her eyes reread the not time and time again. Cooperate. They’d nearly beaten her oldest friend to death, they kidnapped her boyfriend, they’d left her and Daniel in shambles, and yet they had the nerve to tell them to cooperate. It disgusted her. It enraged her. And she wanted nothing more than to get her hands on Mauricio so she could put a knife to his throat.

“What’s it say?” asked Daniel, quietly.

“Cooperate.” Seraphina told him, lifting her gaze from the note.

“Cooperate?”

She nodded. “That’s all it says.”

“Fucking pricks,” he muttered under his breath. “So where do we go from here? What do we do?”

“The only thing we can do. Wait.” She hated what she was saying, but knew it was their only true course of action. They had to wait until the cartel got in touch with them. “It’s only a matter of time before they call us up. We’ll get one of those things that track phone calls, the sort that police use when someone’s been kidnapped and there’s a ransom note. I’ll ask Pritchard if we can borrow his. He’ll let us borrow it, he has to, so we’ll track them down and . . . I guess we’ll just go from there.”

“He’ll be alright, Finn.” Daniel reassured. “They need to keep him alive in order to use him against you; so at least, you can take comfort in that.”

“I do,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “But it’s not much comfort. If it hadn’t been for me, he’d still be here. If it hadn’t been for me, Frankie would be alright.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that shit. There was no way you could’ve known what was gonna happen.” Daniel took in a deep breath. “You did your best to keep everyone safe. For fucks sake, we went to a beach, ready to die in order to make sure Ben and our friends would be alright. What more could’ve been done?”

“I could’ve never gotten involved with him.”

“At the time, we didn’t know this would get dangerous.” He reminded. “Back then everything was safe. There’s no way we could’ve known those fuckers would come onto our turf, but don’t worry, we’re gonna show them and the rest of those cartels that you don’t fuck with Californians.” He cringed at the pain that accompanied speaking. “You and me, we’re gonna go to the other growers.”

“What?” she asked.

“We’re gonna meet up with the other growers, tell them what’s going on.”

“It’s none of their business.”

“If those fuckers have moved on us, it’s only a matter of time before they move on the others. We have to go rally them, see if we can build a coalition, because our twelve guys and us aren’t gonna be enough. They may be Marines, but there’s a limit to what even they can do.”

“You really think we have to do that?”

Daniel nodded. “The cartel has enough guys to wage a war against the Mexican government. The way I see it, we’ll need at least twenty or so to have enough men for two separate groups. Right now we have twelve trained Marine’s, but since two guys are gonna stay with Frankie, that means we’ll only have nine. So it’ll be the nine of them, and us two, and no offense to us, but we’re not ready to go up against a cartel.”

“We’re not,” she agreed. “But do you really think they’re gonna want to help out? Every grower in Northern California either deals to dispensaries or they push the drugs up to dispensaries in Oregon or Washington, where shits safe. Do you really think they’re gonna want to get in a war?”

“I think they’ll understand that regardless of whether or not they choose to help us, they’re already in the war. The Sinaloa Cartel’s coming here was an act of aggression towards all independent growers. They know that. The people that grow here are college educated, so they’ll understand, and I hope that they’ll get involved. I know for a fact that Russell over in Trinity County has fifteen army men at his disposal, Frederick in Blue Blake has like eight soldiers, and Willow and Howard have I think ten over in Rio Dell.”

“Willow, Howard, and Frederick are senior citizens. I don’t think they’re gonna want to send people to war; they came here to escape all the shit going on in the rest of the world; the violence, the hatred. I just don’t know about them. I think Russell will help, but not them.”

“There’s only one way to find out for sure. We have to ask.”

Seraphina pursed her lips. She wanted to disagree, but she knew he was right. “We’ll call a meeting later tonight, but before that, we’ll have one of the doctors from the clinic in town come check us out.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Daniel laid his head back on the pillow. “I’ve got a feeling he’s gonna say I’ve got a few broken ribs.”

“He’ll say mine are bruised.”

Carlos paced along the entryway, gun in hand as he stood guard. His olive green eyes were firmly fixed on the scene unfolding outside. The paramedics were assessing the injuries that Frankie had sustained, and soon enough they would be putting him on the stretcher. The police car was just pulling up; the sirens were turned off, and out of the passenger seat, stepped out Pritchard. It was obvious from the expression Pritchard wore, that he understood that Frankie had been beaten by the Sinaloa Cartel. And as much as Carlos wanted to say that he was afraid of what was to come, he couldn’t. To say so would be a lie. He would never admit it out loud, but there was a part of him that was looking forward to the fighting, there was a part of him that was excited. It had been two years since his final tour of duty in Iraq, and although he had done his best to assimilate back into civilian life, he hadn’t really been able to. That was why he left his home in Southern California to live with his friends up north. He hadn’t felt comfortable working at the local Costco, and going about his life like any other person. He craved adventure. He needed risk. He needed danger in his life. And guarding the fields and warehouse was exciting enough to get him by, but he needed to see action, that was where he, strangely enough, felt most at ease. So he looked forward to the fighting. He looked forward to being able to be a soldier again, because after serving his country in battle for eleven years, a soldier was all he was.

“Pritchard’s coming.” Carlos announced when the stout man began walking up the stairs.

“Let him in.” Seraphina sat herself up as best he could.”

“Yes, Finn,” replied Carlos, and just as Pritchard was going to ring the doorbell, he opened the door. “Come in, Sir. Seraphina and Daniel are waiting in the living room, right through here.”

“Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going –” he was rendered mute when he saw the state the two young adults were in. “What the hell happened to you? Did they get you two like they got Frank? You should’ve called me! I could’ve gotten the forces ready, blocked off the exits and –”

“Shut the fuck up!” snapped Seraphina. “The police department wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing, not against the cartel. And no, they didn’t get us like they got Frank. They got him worse, and at a separate location.”

“What do you mean?” asked Pritchard, taking a seat on an empty recliner.

“Daniel and I went to turn ourselves in. The plan was for them to kill us so they’d leave the town alone, but things didn’t work out like that. They beat the shit out of us, but let us live, and when we got here, well, a little while after we got here, they pulled up and tossed Frankie out the back of their vehicle.” She took in a deep breath. “That’s not all.”

“There’s more?”

She nodded. “They kidnapped Benjamin.”

“Did they leave a ransom note?”

“They left this,” she held out the paper for him to take.

“Cooperate,” he read the not aloud. “You’re not though. Are you?”

She ignored his inquiry. “We need you to fabricate a story for Frankie. Matt and Joel are gonna say that we found him on the street. We need you to say what happened.”

“But I –”

“You’re going to fabricate a story. Understand?” her voice was deathly low. “You’re going to open an investigation, and then close it as soon as you can. And meanwhile, you are going to keep an eye out, in case you see any strange people through these parts. If you do, you do not engage them, you either call me or Daniel, and we’ll sort it out.”

“Are you . . . is there gonna be a war in my town?” asked Pritchard, fear shining in his eyes.

Seraphina shook her head slowly. “No.”

“But you just said you’d –”

“I said that we’d sort it out, and we will.” Seraphina flung her legs over the side of the couch and sat up. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Okay? This town is going to be safe. So go about your normal business, call us in case you see anyone suspicious and that’ll be the extent of your help. We may not have a plan right now, but we have Marines. So you can rest assured that things will be alright.” She took in a deep breath. “Almost forgot something.”

“What’d you almost forget?”

“We need to borrow tracking equipment.” Seraphina told him. “That way when they call us about Benjamin, we’ll be able to find out where he is.”

“Yes, of course you do.”

“How quickly can you get it to us?”

“Well, I have to do the paperwork and . . .” he trailed off, noticing the displeased look on her face. “. . . an hour, I can get it to you in an hour. I’ll set it up, show you how to use it.”

“Good, thank you.” Seraphina rubbed her tired eyes.

Pritchard sat silently as he looked from Seraphina over to Daniel. “Aren’t you two going to get yourselves checked out?”

Daniel nodded. “We’re gonna send for Doctor Harper in a little while.”

“If you want, I can stop by the clinic on my way back to the station, tell him to come on over.” Pritchard offered.

“That’d be great.” Seraphina spoke. “We’d really appreciate that.”

“I’ll stop by at the clinic then.” He stood up. “I hope you two make a speedy recovery. I’ll have the tracking equipment over in a few. Excuse me.” Pritchard gave them a slight bow of the head and then exited their living room.

Once the ambulance and police car drove off, the men began making their way inside the house. Everyone was eager to hear what their leaders had to say, what they were planning to do, and so some sat and others stood, all waiting to hear what was to be done.

“We’re calling a meeting with the other bosses to tell them what’s going on.” Seraphina informed. “Since there are so few of us, Daniel proposed that we ask for help from them. I think it’s a great idea. We could really use the men, because right now, eleven of us aren’t enough.”

“How many men are you planning on getting?” inquired Giovanni, his olive green eyes intently fixed on her bloodied face.

“At least nine so we can get an even twenty.” She told him.

“If you want we can call up friends from the war.” Anthony offered. “I'm sure if some money was offered, they’d –”

“We don’t want people we have to pay. No offense to you, but if we give them 60 grand and the cartel offers 120, then we’ll know where they’re going. The people that work with Russell, with Frederick, with Willow and Howard are loyal. They’re like family to them, just like you’re family to us. We want that loyalty.”

That made sense to them. They too wanted to know that the men at their side wouldn’t turn on them.

“I know you guys probably want to talk strategy right now, but truth is, at this point, that’s the only plan we have. We’re going to call a meeting, wait for the Sinaloa cartel to get in contact with us, and ask our man at the DEA to give us all the information he has on the cartel. I’ll also ask my friend at the FBI to get my any information he can regarding the cartel. Uh, so that’s where we’re at. Hopefully, in a few days, we’ll be able to make concrete plans, but for now, we have to wait.” Her voice cracked near the end. She didn’t want to wait, but she didn’t have a choice in the matter, to rush into anything would be foolish, and she wanted to think things out as best she could, to minimize any dangers. “Since everyone’s in here, can you guys make sure to secure the house? I'm sure they’re not going to do anything here, but it’d make us feel better.”

“We’ll set up a perimeter,” said Sergio.

“And whoever’s out front, just know that Doctor Harper is going to be coming soon, so make sure to let him through, and Pritchard should be arriving within an hour.” Seraphina spoke. “Carlos and Josh, can you guys please help me get Daniel to the bathroom downstairs?”

“I told you that I'm not gonna take a fucking shower until the Doctor checks me out.” Daniel reminded.

“We need to get cleaned up.” Seraphina spoke, using the arm of the couch to help her stand. “I'm sure he doesn’t want us smelling like ass while he inspects us. Now Carlos, Josh, please get him to the bathroom, I'm gonna grab some clothes for him from the laundry room.”

“You want us to shower him?” asked Josh, hesitantly.

“No, hell no,” she shook her head. “I wouldn’t ask you guys to wash his ass. I’ll shower him.”

“Finn!” cried Daniel in protest.

“There’s nothing on you, I haven’t seen before.”

And she was telling the truth. During their college years, Daniel had had a habit of getting naked at parties. He would randomly throw his clothes off and start dancing atop the makeshift stage at the coop by the name of Casa Zimbabwe. Not only that, but she’d also found herself forced to bathe him when he broke his foot when they were twenty-five. It was months of her bathing him and a good while of her helping him up so he could wipe his ass. There wasn’t anything on him that she hadn’t seen, so just like a mother would wash their child, she cleaned up Daniel, made sure his wound were cleaned, and then sent him to the living room with Carlos and Josh. She also gave herself a quick shower, and then went back to the front to wait the arrival of Doctor Harper.

When Doctor Harper finally arrived, he was left speechless at the sight of Daniel and Seraphina. Despite the fact that they’d cleaned themselves up, they still looked like they’d been through hell. He wanted to ask them what exactly had happened, but remembered that Pritchard told him not to ask any questions. So instead he began examining them. Seraphina had three bruised ribs, and one that was strained. Daniel hadn’t broken any ribs, but had seven bruised ones. Neither had any internal bleeding going on, and their wounds were professionally cleaned out by him. Doctor Harper told them that they had to rest, to sleep and lie out on the couch or their respective beds so their bodies could heal themselves, he also told them to ice their ribs, and to take aspirin or ibuprofen, but he also said that if they wanted, they could smoke marijuana for the pain. After telling them to call him in case there were any new symptoms, he left, and a few minutes later, Pritchard walked in carrying a massive box.

“Where do we put this?” he asked.

“The basement,” spoke Seraphina. “We’d put it in the main house, but Ethan’s checking it for bugs right now.” She stood up. “Do you want to come, Niel?”

He shook his head. “I think I should stay here, moving around hurts like a bitch.”

“Alright,” she rubbed his head affectionately. “I’ll pay extra attention, and let you know what he tells me.”

In the basement, there was a second living room, but also two spaces that had been walled up and turned into bedrooms. One was a guest room, the other an office, and it was in that office that Pritchard assembled the tracking device and taught Seraphina how to operate it. Seraphina, having always been a very attentive listener, was able to learn how to operate it fairly quickly, but just in case, Pritchard left her some handwritten notes on how to use it. When she felt comfortable enough with the equipment, they went back upstairs where Daniel was busy watching an episode of Entourage.

Upon noticing their presence, he turned off the television and Seraphina filled him in on everything she’d just learned. The dazed look on his face made it clear to her that he’d opted to use marijuana as pain medicine instead of ibuprofen, and she decided that she’d wait until later to explain things to him again. With Pritchard gone and Daniel stoned, she sought Ethan out to see how his search was going. He was just finishing up on her bedroom when she found him. There weren’t any bugs at the house. It was a safe space where she could speak freely, and feeling that relief, she picked up the phone and made three phone calls to schedule the meeting with the three wealthiest marijuana growers in the state. They were hesitant about having a meeting that very day, but the desperation in her voice made it clear that it was imperative they met, so they decided to have dinner at Willow and Howard’s home in Rio Dell.

Seraphina wasn’t sure about taking Daniel along with her. Out of the two of them, his beating had been far worse, and while she had to walk around with a cane and take aspirin, Daniel couldn’t move properly on his own accord. He had to either be carried or pushed on a wheelchair they’d bought from the senior center. Despite the state he was in, Daniel was determined to go, and so the pair, accompanied by three armed men made the journey to Rio Dell.

The Barnes Residence was a beautiful two story log cabin that looked like something out of a fairytale. It was a simple house for people as wealthy as Willow and Howard, but it was true to the kind of people they were. They loved nature, enjoyed the simple things in life, and most of their wealth was spent donating to charities and on the town. When Daniel and Seraphina pulled up to their cabin, they were waiting on the front porch to great them. They were talking to Frederick who’d arrived only a few minutes earlier, and when they saw their two young friends step out of the car, their stomachs plummeted.

“Seraphina!” cried the sixty-four year old Willow. “Daniel!” she shouted as she ran towards them. “What on earth happened to you?” she stopped in front of the car, her light brown eyes staring intently on them. “Who did this?”

“The Sinaloa Cartel,” replied Seraphina.

Willow’s eyes widened in horror, “T-the cartel?” she stuttered.

“But . . . I . . . how?” asked Willow, at a loss for words.

“I think it best if we discuss that when Russell gets here. There’s a lot to tell and I think we’d rather tell it once.”

“Yes, yes, of course, well come right in.”

Seraphina followed Willow up the stairs, and Daniel was carried up by Carlos, and then placed on his wheelchair by Josh. The two beaten youths were looked at with pity. Everyone suddenly understood why it was that Seraphina had sounded so desperate over the one. The Sinaloa Cartel was nothing to mess with. They’d all lived their lives and done their business in a way that kept them from ever crossing paths with those organizations, and now, all of a sudden, one of their own had been beaten by those fiends.

It wasn’t long before Russell arrived, and as soon as he did, they were all ushered into the living room where Seraphina began to recount their harrowing tale. She told them of the cryptic note, of the phone call, she told them about the first meeting, about the steps they took to ensure that their employees would be safe, she told them about how they had gone to the beach ready to die in order to spare anymore violence from happening, she told them about how they were almost beaten to death, about how they were left a bloody mess on the beach, and then she told them about Frankie. Her voice cracked at that. The guilt she felt for having put her friend in that position overwhelmed her, but it was nothing compared to what she felt when she told them of Benjamin. Her eyes refused to remain dry, and the tears began to fall, she wept in rage, she wept in despair.

“They want us to cooperate,” she said in a low voice, “But we’re not going to, that is to say, we won’t cooperate much.”

“What does that mean?” asked Russell.

“It means we’re going to cooperate enough to make them think that they’ve beaten us, to make them think we’re not a threat, and then we plan on making a move.” Seraphina took in a deep breath. “We plan to attack them in Mexico.”

They gasped in horror.

“But you can’t do that!” cried Willow. “Those men are . . .”

“We know, believe me, we know. But what choice do we have? We thought we could end it with our deaths so we basically handed ourselves over to them, they didn’t want to kill us, so they let us go and nearly killed one of our men and kidnapped my boyfriend. They’ve fucked us over. And we can’t let that go unpunished.”

“But we don’t fight wars.” Willow said. “We’re peaceful growers.”

“And that’s all we’ve ever wanted to be,” spoke Seraphina. “But now they’ve come onto our land and have brought in their war. If we let them have their way, they’re going to think that all California growers will just roll over and let them do what they want, we have to make a stand. We have to show them that just because we choose to be peaceful, that doesn’t mean we don’t know how to defend ourselves.”

“I think she’s right.” Russell put down his drink. “The way we handle this is going to set a precedent. If our friends allow themselves to be controlled by the Sinaloa Cartel, then it is only right to assume that that cartel will think the rest of us as easily overpowered, and not only that cartel, but the rest in Mexico. What if the others decide that they’ll add one of us to their organization?”

“They wouldn’t do that.” Howard refused to think they would.

“We want to believe they wouldn’t, but surely we all know they’re capable of it. Those men only care about money. They have no problem with going into another country and beating people into submission.” Russell scratched the base of his neck. “We have to attack.”

“He’s right,” spoke Frederick whom had remained quiet for most of the discussion. “We have to send them a message.”

“But none of us have ever been to battle.” Willow reminded.

“Our men have,” Seraphina reminded. “All of the men that Daniel and I employ have seen active combat in Afghanistan and Iraq. So have all of your soldiers. I'm not saying it’ll be easy, but we have men that have been trained by the American government. In our house, we have top of the line weapons. And tomorrow, I’ll be getting all the information available on the Sinaloa cartel from the DEA and the FBI. This is doable. It’s risky as hell, but it is doable.”

“You can count on me.” Russell spoke.

“Me as well,” said the fifty-nine year old Frederick. “Though I think my men will have to fight in my place.”

Willow and Howard exchanged a long look, with their eyes asking if they should get involved.

“We’ll also help.” Howard spoke on their behalf. “I . . . well, we don’t have weapons, but that’s nothing some money won’t change.”

Seraphina sighed in relief. “Thank you so much, thank you.”

“We’re going to show them that even old hippies have some fight in them,” said Willow.

Howard nodded in agreement. “I fled the draft, but I’ll stand up for this.”

“You don’t know how much we appreciate it.” Daniel spoke.

“So what is the plan of attack?” asked Howard.

“We’re going to wait until we get the files from the DEA and FBI, but the plan is to kill anyone shooting at us, and to turn over anyone that surrenders to the DEA.” Seraphina explained.

“Oh shit, so we’re going to be helping our government as well?” asked Russell.

“They won’t know it’s us. We’re going to tie up everyone that surrenders, leave them at a safe location and then call the DEA since most of the people in the Sinaloa Cartel have extradition orders pending,”

“That’s fantastic!” exclaimed Willow. “Involving the government will really terrify the other cartels and they won’t even think about coming over here again . . . oh yes, that’ll scare them off.”

They spent a few more hours discussing what might be done in the future and going over what had happened in the last week. It was hard to believe that their peaceful way of life had come under attack, that such powerful and dangerous men had grown interested in them, but despite the danger, despite their fear, they were determined to stand behind their fellow growers, because it wasn’t just about Daniel and Seraphina’s business anymore, it was about all of their lives.