Page 66 of The Perfect Stranger

The weapons.

The photos.

The stalking.

He was going to hurt her in the most heinous of ways and that alone made my blood boil. My jaw twitched in agitation, eyes scanning the weapons deciding the order in which I would use them on the son of a bitch.

The water turned off, and I waited, breathing slow and deep to contain the rage.

The door opened, and the light from the bath lit up the bedroom. Ruiz stepped out, naked and searching for the towel he’d left on the bed.

“Put it on,” I ordered, throwing the towel, startling him. He caught it with one hand but made no effort to cover himself. Instead, he paused. He watched. He seemed to study me as if trying to fit puzzle pieces together.

His eyes flicked to the coffee table and back to the Beretta in my hand.

“Put. It. On,” I instructed again. He did as he was told, a snicker marring his already ugly face, then raised his eyebrows in question.

“You look somewhat familiar,” he observed, calm and collected despite having his own weapon pointed at him.

“We don’t know each other.”

“Maybe not. But we have mutual acquaintances. Acquaintances who warned me to expect you.”

“Likewise. Why are you following Nina Cross?”

“Who?” he asked feigning confusion.

I flicked the safety and Ruiz squared his shoulders. “I’m not in the mood to be tested. You’re going to die tonight anyway. How you respond to me will determine how you die. So… where is Nina Cross?”

“What do you want with her?” It was a deflection.

“I’m here to see she stays alive.”

He scoffed. “She was never in any real danger.”

It was my turn to scoff. “Oh?” I pointed the Beretta at the line-up of weapons and back to Ruiz’s face. “Sure looks like you had quite the night planned.”

“Oh, this. No, you see, you have it all wrong.” He moved behind the coffee table and selected the knife. “You see these,” running the blade over the palm of his hand, “these were meant for you.”

“Like I said, your face looked familiar when I saw you at the counter booking your flight. I knew Nina was on the previous one. I made a phone call and arranged for this…” he glanced at his array of weapons, “…to be dropped at reception if my instincts were correct.”

“My battle isn’t with you.”

He laughed. Mocking. “Of course it is. I’m Baja, you’re Los Santos. We both want the same thing. And we both need to use the same person to get what we want.”

“Like I said. My battle isn’t with you, you just happen to be in my way. Where is Nina Cross?”

“She’s close. I have men watching her.”

“Not good enough.”

He paused for effect before continuing, “The money didn’t belong to Los Santos to begin with.” Again he was deflecting, this time, however, he seemed outraged, drawing on years of bloody wars and unresolved feuds. “The Baja Californian cartel has every right to it.”

“So you take Nina across the border. You get your money. And then what?”

“You wanna know what we do with the girl?”

When I didn’t respond, he took that as a sign to continue.

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