Page 39 of The Perfect Stranger

“Javier from Baja already has men expanding out throughout Northern Mexico looking for our tunnels and crossing,” he stammered in an attempt to divert the immediate attention off him. His confidence was waning as Gabriel’s temper grew.

Gabriel tapped his forehead absorbing Andrews’s latest news. “Who did you talk to?”

“What?”

“Who. The. Fuck, did you talk to?”

Andrews shook his head in a panic.

“No one.”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me!”

“I swear—”

“Why the fuck would they come searching for our tunnels and crossings unless you’ve snitched?”

“I didn’t—”

“Is that what you are Andrews?” Gabriel flipped the table between them and kicked Andrews chair backward sending his opponent onto the floor. Gabriel hovered above, his Barretta pressed between Andrews’ eyes. “Did you fucking snitch?”

“No—”

“You working for them? Spilling our secrets?”

“No!”

“How else have they taken over the border before us, unless you have been drip feeding them information? Huh? Doesn’t make fucking sense, Andrews. Now they’re on our tails? Some piss weak cartel ready to claim our territory, getting the intel from one of our own? An eye for an eye, Andrews. That’s how they’re treating it now. You snitched, and now you’re fucking lying to my face.”

“No,” he pleaded, arms raised slightly in a useless protective shield.

“Then. Who. The fuck. Is spilling information?” Gabriel bellowed, stilling everyone in the room. The businessmen watched, turning in their seats. The strippers stood motionless in their various degrees of nakedness, clutching the pole for support.

“Perhaps they’ve been watch—”

“Get the fuck up!”

Gabriel stood to the side as Andrews staggered to his feet. He stood, looking ready to bolt, but knowing he wouldn’t make it very far.

“I tell you what…” Gabriel began, moderately calmer than before. “I’ll give you ten seconds to get the fuck out of here alive. After that time, my man here…” he pointed to me and Andrews’ frightened eyes met mine, “…is going to hunt you down. You’re finished Andrews. I think you’ve fucked things up enough.”

“You know me. I wouldn’t —”

“Five fucking years you’ve worked for me!” he seethed. “How many of those were double-crossing?”

“I’m sorry, Gabriel.”

And there it was. An admission. Stupid fuck.

“Save it. Your time starts now. Ten. Nine. Eight…”

Andrews turned on his heel and barged his way through the two security. He ran, determined to save the last few seconds he had left.

“End it,” Gabriel instructed, and I followed the traitor outside where I was met by the blinding sun. Andrews had his back to me fumbling with his keys and cursing through the tears. I wound the silencer onto the Glock just as he had opened the driver’s side door.

“Andrews,” I called. He froze, shoulders dropping by the slightest degree. “Turn around.” I didn’t want to shoot the man in the back. “Just do it. Turn. Around.”

Reluctantly he complied, spilling words of warning as he did so. “Get away from him. He’ll do the same to—”

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