Page 53 of The Perfect Stranger

Chapter Seventeen

Those who happened to “stumble” upon a great deal of money always behave the same. At first, they tell themselves to remain discreet, to not have their actions announce it to the world. That’s until temptation becomes too much. Gabriel suffered from the same vice. He was a man with money and he flaunted it. He became a target. Easy to find. Able to be sniffed out in places men like to unload the dollars.

It seemed strip clubs were my hunting ground. They were dime-a-dozen in countries known for drug production. They became a place to blow off steam as well as conduct business meetings. They were dark enough to hide the most nervous of players and seedy enough that others wouldn’t batter a lash at dodgy dealings.

It wouldn’t be my first stop.

I pulled up outside his small unit block that looked like something out of the slums. Two houses away, an argument between a man and woman filtered out onto the streets. Stray cats skulked across the road and in the distance there was a gunshot followed by an eerie silence. It was understandable why Frederico would take the drugs and run. The problem was, he wouldn’t use the money to better himself. He would use it to get himself killed.

His unit was dark and appeared empty. Using my knife, I jimmied it in the door until it unlocked. Slowly, it creaked open to reveal an awful stench. Flicking on my torch, I scanned the room, repulsed by what I saw. He was messy which boded well with me. Messy people were more reckless. There was month old garbage still waiting to visit the trash bin outside. A buzz of what could only be flies flittered through the plastic bags of rotting food scraps. The kitchen was overflowing with dirty dishes and countertops were loaded with junk. The rest of the house faired just as bad. Judging by the decay of food, Frederico hadn’t been home for quite some time. I walked further into the living room, bits of debris crunching under my boots.

The overloaded coffee table caught my attention. On top of a mountain of pizza boxes sat a business card.

DESEO (Desire), it read in bold capitals.

He was reckless and stupid.

Leaving the door wide open, I left. It didn’t matter, he wouldn’t be returning.

The drive took just over an hour. Somehow, he had deemed this a safe distance from hunting cartels.

It was late when I pulled into the parking lot, but the place was heaving with male patrons. One man stumbled out the door, sidled by two women half his age. No doubt he thought taking them to a strip club would be a turn on and he’d be in for a night of kink.

The bouncers greeted me like I was a regular, and once inside I started my hunt. Judging by the photos on the wall in his house, I was looking for a pudgy man in his mid-thirties with a receding hairline.

The club was like all the others, but this one was rank with piss and other bodily fluids. All eyes seemed to be on the one girl on stage. She was nearing the end of her show, folding over with her ass to the crowd, panties inching south. The men pushed closer, desperate for a close shot of her opening legs. She parted her cheeks, and the men applauded. In her stiletto’s, she lowered into the splits and straight onto an upright dildo that replicated a real life cock. It was suctioned to the floor allowing her to bounce on it. This was a good thing. While DESEO offered this type of show, men fondled their dicks. And when men stroked their dicks, they were less interested in what was happening around them.

“Can I help you?” a waitress asked gliding her finger in what was meant to be a seductive move across my chest.

“You can actually.” She smiled, hopeful. “I hear you have private rooms out back for the real fun.”

“Maybe.” She bit her crusty lip which only made her ugly. I had to give it Gabriel. His club was only stacked with beauties—girls who had families to support. Beautiful women who took care of themselves and could entertain the wealthy. Here? This was a poor man’s club with poor, drugged fucked women desperate for a dollar and willing to accept their next hit as payment.

I threw a zip lock bag of coke on the counter for extra persuasion. The waitress’s eyes widened, her greedy little hand eager to snatch at it. “I’m keen for good night, and I trust you can find girls suitable for that.”

She looked to me, still caught in a drug-lust haze. “I can help you. Follow me.”

I pocketed the drugs and allowed the waitress to lead the way. We by-passed the stages, and the girl disappeared behind a thick black curtain before holding it to the side for me. She spoke with the bouncer manning the entry, a terse interaction that had her promising a share of her profits.

He moved away and opened the heavy door and closed it again behind us.

It was foul. Stale piss and recycled air that had been doing the rotations since the place opened. I swallowed hard, my eyes beginning to prickle as we made our way down a hall with thick red and heavy stained carpet. There were multiple doors Frederico could be behind.

“Here,” the waitress said, opening the door to a dingy room with only a bed. “Wait here, and I’ll bring you some girls to choose from.”

“Thank you,” I said, grateful for her addiction. She paused, looking around the room nervously before once again meeting my eyes. Retrieving the zip-lock bag, I tossed it to her, and she caught it with both hands as if it were an injured butterfly. She turned on her heel and made a quick exit. Pulling my Glock free, I moved fast back down the hall. The first room was unlocked, yet the moans from inside told me it was occupied. Flinging the door open, I dissected the array of bodies.

The two women were all over the man like a suction.

“Hey!” I yelled gaining their attention. One of the girls pulled her mouth free from the man’s cock and screamed. She slid backward off the bed clutching at the loose sheets to protect herself. The man bolted upright, but it wasn’t Frederico. He muttered a string of curses, pushing the other girl off him in a show of bravado. His dick was now flaccid as he stumbled free of the sheets toward me. I shot at the lamp, and the women crouched in terror.

The man stopped, raising his hands in surrender while I backed out, closing the door. I inspected the second and third rooms where the patrons were too embroiled in their sloppy rendezvous to care. None of them was Frederico.

With two doors left, I knew the waitress would be returning soon with my selection. Taking a gamble, I chose the door at the far end. Kicking it open I observed the mess. It seemed wherever Frederico went he took his disorder with him. The room was filled with old takeaway packaging, empty alcohol bottles and drug paraphernalia. The side tables were covered in the white powder, and the room was foul with sweat, piss, and cum. No one reacted to me being there. They were all on a high from a recent hit. Three girls lazily fucked each other while trying rouse Frederico’s limp dick. He was lying on his back, close to succumbing to an overdose. Sweat layered his podgy body and saliva leaked from the corner of his mouth.

I entered the room, and the girls cast me a disinterested look.

“Frederico?”

He groaned at the sound of his name before he muttered one word. “What?” It was barely audible, but it was all I needed. He fit the description.

I aimed my Glock at his head and pulled the trigger without hesitation. Even when dead, his eyes were the same as in living. Dull. Void of comprehension. I estimated he was close to death by his own hand anyway. The girls finally stopped and slipped to the side, completely unfazed with the hit they just witnessed. I looked to them, eyes hazy and bruised. There was whip marks across the back and ass of one of them. They were so bad, the skin had broken, and some were oozing blood and puss. Frederico had gone to town on the girls, and that explained their indifference to his murder. I had done them a favor. Sought revenge for them when they couldn’t themselves. Slowly they stood, scanning the room for some clothing to wrap around themselves before silently leaving.

The whole thing was surreal. Trance like.

I looked back to the naked body in the sweat stained bed. I took a photo and sent it to Gabriel.

My job here was done.

Frederico had unknowingly given me the chance to secure myself within Los Santos cartel. Trust had been restored, and my compliance had seen the end of many traitors foolish enough to challenge the dangerous drug lords. What I didn’t know at the time was that it would be almost two years of catering to Gabriel, before I became officially acquainted with his uncle.

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