Page 67 of The Perfect Stranger

“What happens to her after we get the money is none of my concern or interest. I have one job. Get her alive and well across the border to complete the transaction. Will she make it safely back?” His eyes took on a wicked gleam. “Probably not. She’s a very pretty girl.”

That was all I needed to hear for my finger to squeeze the trigger. The noise, even with a silencer, bounced off the walls and as the bullet pierced Ruiz’s thigh, the room was filled with an agonized groan. He dropped to one knee, one hand on the bed balancing him, the other covering the wound.

“Where is Nina Cross?”

He shook his head wearing a small smirk refusing to give up the game so early in.

When he refused to answer, I picked up the knife that had fallen to the floor when he fell. Its blade shone in the light from the bathroom, Gabriel’s words about branding our enemy tempting me.

“Where is she?”

Again, silence.

Moving forward, I gripped Ruiz’s hair to tilt his face back. I held the blade high, placing the tip against his forehead. He watched, swallowing hard but still defiant. Adding pressure, he tried to pull away, a pained grunt escaping through clenched teeth. He seethed, breathing deep while the blade cut through the skin and tore through flesh, blood trickling into his eyes while the initials LS were carved above his brows.

His face had considerably paled, despite the streaks of red cascading down his cheeks.

“Where is she?” I repeated in case the pain had him forgetting the reason we were even conversing.

Ruiz spat out the blood that had pooled between his lips, a spray of red decorating my shoes. My reaction was swift, my fist connecting with his nose. A sickening crack and a distressed groan followed. He fell backward, his head smashing against the wooden door frame of the bathroom.

“On your knees,” I ordered. My voice was practically a growl, the urgency to get to Nina before any foot soldiers did was paramount.

Ruiz rolled back and forth, struggling to orientate himself.

“Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.”

There were blood stains on the carpet and down his torso. It ran like a fountain from his nose, the wound on his forehead tearing further when he winced in pain.

Finally, with an exhaustive effort, Ruiz was on both knees swaying as he tried to maintain some balance.

“Hands behind your back.” He did as he was told knowing he wouldn’t have much of a choice.

Using the zip-ties, I secured his hands until the plastic dug deep into the skin.

Kneeling in front, I wiped the knife’s blade clean on the bed’s comforter before holding it against Ruiz’s lower abdomen.

“I will gut you right here if don’t answer me…” my voice was low and unnervingly calm, “…and I’ll make you watch while I rip you apart and pull out your intestines and organs while your heart still beats. Tell me where the fuck I can find Nina Cross?”

“This isn’t your battle,” was all he could say before I plunged the knife in above his hip bone. He roared in agony, blood spurting from the wound. I held still, allowing him one last chance before I fulfilled my promise.”

“The battle is indeed mine. Now, you give me a bullshit line like that again and this blade right here will start slicing. Where is she?”

This time, he sobbed. These were tears of a man who now, close to death, wondered if his devotion to the Baja cartel had been worth it. He was dead anyway. How he died would be determined by his answer.

“She’s across the road at the Flamingo Motel.”

“The Flamingo?”

“Yes.” I had seen it. It was the one colored exactly like the bird itself.

“Do you have any other Baja men after her?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Same as you. Baja are everywhere.”

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