Page 32 of The Perfect Stranger

“No, señor. He’s busy.”

The door behind me opened, and baldy stepped in, cramping the already tight space. “Take him, Fabia.”

She looked torn, like it was a choice between life and death. Clearly, Gabriel ruled with an iron fist even in a brothel.

“And…” baldy continued, “…make sure our guest is comfortable.”

Swallowing hard, and close to tears, she turned on her heel and climbed the stairs. When she heard the door close, she turned to me, throwing cautious glances at the still garbling Gregorio.

“Please, señor…” she begged clasping my free hand, “…if I interrupt, it will not end well for me.”

“I assure you, you will be fine.”

Her eyes welled, lips pursed. She was genuinely scared.

“Can it not wait?”

“Trust me. With what he’s about to learn, he will thank you for letting me in. Please, lead the way.”

“He’s in the bath lounge. Many of my friends are in there. Please don’t hurt them.”

“I have no intention of doing anything to your friends.”

Her smile was small, untrusting. “Follow.”

Beside me, Gregorio muttered a string of incoherencies. A string of saliva dangled beneath the hood’s hem. He was a mess and in the perfect condition.

Looks were certainly deceiving, and what I had considered a derelict building on the outside was the complete opposite on the inside. This was a place touched by the golden fingers of a drug lord. It oozed luxurious debauchery.

We cut through a room of flickering candles and sweet perfume where women were dressed in rhinestone covered bras and Arabian style sarongs around their hips. Taking the next flight of stairs, I came to the only door on the second level.

It was bright red.

My mark.

I entered like it was my own house, but was brought to a stop.

“Fuck me!” I muttered, my senses reaching an overload.

I was hit with a wall of steam. The bathhouse quarters had a mix of chemical chlorine, perfumed aromatics, and sex, and the smell clung to the mist particles.

To the right of the room, two women bathed in the heated spa. The rest of the room was adorned with rich, colorful fabrics and an overload of cushions. It looked more like a Turkish harem than what I had pictured.

Directly in front, three women lay on low bedding giving a performance suitable for a porno. They licked, sucked, flicked, bit, writhed, screamed and moaned. To the left watching their every movement was Gabriel. He was on his back getting his dick sucked by two women taking turns. A woman, naked except for a gold chain around her waist entered from a room beyond the mist, carrying in a single glass on a tray.

She faltered, doing a double take when she saw two soldiers, one shackled and hooded standing by the door. Gesturing with my Glock, she took the hint and quick-stepped back the way she came. Gabriel noticed her sudden retreat and pushed the sucker fishes away before his eyes fell on an even bigger problem. Me.

“Who the fuck are you?” he spat, pulling on his robe.

“You Santos?”

His head lowered for battle. “Who. The. Fuck. Is. Asking?”

“Someone who just saved your life.”

---