replacing it with the single bullet atop the table. “It’s what you told your girlfriend, Maria…no? That I was a dumb fuck too busy playing with my dick to notice the stolen underground connections or goods? That you were protected because of who you’ve recently allied with.”
“How do you…” a sob catches in his chest, head shaking from side to side. “Is she?”
“Very much alive and enjoying the reward for turning you in.”
“She sold me out?”
“Yes.”
Marin nods, and with shaky limbs brings his hands up and closes his eyes. His lips part and hushed whispers follow as he begins to recite the Padre Nuestro prayer. And it’s as Santiago begins to say the third line that Salazar hands me his gun.
I let him finish.
I let him ask God to save his soul and forgive all offenses made while in this world.
“Will you go after my family?” he says after finishing, head bowed and posture defeated.
“They will not be harmed. You have my word.” I’m pointing the barrel at his head, finger on the trigger.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” That one bullet is all I need, and with a few quick pulls of the trigger, it lodges itself into his head, ending his life. Santiago Marin slumps forward as small fragments of skull and brain fly through the air, staining the furniture close to us and my pants. No one moves until I lower my arm and hand the gun back to its owner. “Clean it up and return him to his family along with a severance check. Tell them he died while out on delivery, a horrific robbery gone wrong.”
“Consider it done, Lucas.” Chiquito stays behind as I turn and head back into my office, already barking out orders as the men outside begin to scrub the outside terrace. He’ll take care of the mess and replace what needs exchanging; I have a more important matter to attend to.
My cell phone is right where I left it, and I press number four immediately.
It rings once.
“Patron?”
“Deliver it now.”
9
“I SHOULDN’T BE doing this.” I’ve whispered those same words to myself three times in the past hour. They’ve become my mantra. My attempt at keeping my sanity while still making idiotic decisions. To prove to myself that I’m in full use of my faculties because as of late, it’s been one unwise choice after another.
Going to the club.
Letting him corner me in the bathroom.
Accepting this invitation for dinner at his condo a week after we met.
“What are we doing tonight? You feel up to—”
“No, Laura. Just no.” We’re walking down the hall after class and heading toward the exit. People around us look, a few try to garner my attention, but I ignore them and let my security further deter any attempts.
It never changes no matter where I am.
No matter where or who I’m with; all my life I’ve been a circus attraction without my consent. I play a role. I never set a foot out of line.
“But you didn’t even let me ask!” Her expression is one of annoyance until my eyes narrow. Pushing me right now is the worst thing she can do, especially after the fiasco Codicia turned out to be. Between her infatuation and lack of decorum—meeting Alejandro—my night was a jumpy, fearful mess. Laura sighs after a minute, seeing how I’m not backing down. “Just dinner?”
“Where?” Exiting the building, I squint while reaching into my bag and pulling out a pair of sunglasses. “I’ve got a dance class all afternoon and will be exhausted after.”
“Is that a yes? I swear, nothing fancy.”
I pause, looking over at the guards just slightly away from us. “Carlos?”
“Yes, Miss Quintero?”
“Can you give us a minute? Girl talk, and all that jazz.” Those are the magical words. At any mention of girly things, he fights back a shudder. Probably remembering the time he drove us around the city for two hours straight as we whined in the back of the car about the unfairness of being a woman. Periods, cravings, and tears because we were both miserable and cranky.
“Of course, Miss Quintero.” Walking over to the black SUV I use as transportation; he turns and leans back against the vehicle and assesses the perimeter. The other two men with us also give us some privacy while preventing anyone from getting close. Funny enough, they don’t see the man holding a medium-sized box crossing the street.
He’s familiar. I know I’ve seen him before.
“...are you even listening to me?”
“What?” I don’t take my eyes off him as