Page 10 of They Call Him Reaper

I pull over to the last stretch of land near a cliff. Putting the car in neutral, I pull the emergency brake, and then don my backpack. “Vamos, Mamita!” I say it loud in case someone is listening. “The party isn’t over,mi amor. Miami bound,mami!”

Opening her side, I help her out, grab her bag, and release the emergency break. To the outside world, I look like an intoxicated halfwit who forgot to secure my car. I fake run after it as I watch it fall over the cliff.

“Mi carro!Mi carro!” I protest while I wait for the satisfying crunch of metal.

Stepping back, I find the bait standing there with her eyes as big as they can get while drugged and her palms pressed against her cheeks like thatHome Aloneboy. Grabbing her arm, I guide her as we walk a quarter of a mile to a cantina.

It’s a little crowded. I don’t like crowds. I pick a booth in the corner with no entrances behind me and my back to the wall. And tally the people. Ten women. Eight men. Three children. One security guard. I order one large beef quesadilla and two virgin margaritas: one regular and one strawberry. Waiting until she’s halfway through with one, I snap a picture of her drinking it, then I swap them to take another picture.

The food is adequate at best and the beef is a little chewy, but I must blend in like a normal person and not as one who’s considered at least one way to kill every adult in this restaurant, especially that loud blonde diagonal from me who keeps cackling. She keeps looking at me.Didn’t her mom tell her that’s the quickest way to get killed? Don’t stare at strangers; you never know what they’re hiding.

Holding up my hand, I toy with the wedding ring so she can catch a hint and live to poach another day. Luckily, her boyfriend appears and kisses her. It doesn’t stop her light browneyes from finding me again.Disgusting.This is the issue with feelings and love, it weakens your focus. It’s compromising and for nothing. People have no loyalty. I check the clock. Still on schedule. Throwing enough money on the table to cover the food and drinks, I start to walk out. I slip my hands in my pockets and look up at the sky. I can’t wait to get out of these stupid ass clothes. My bait finds her way outside just as our cab pulls up. I don’t do rideshares. They require apps and an electronic trail.

The driver watches as we climb into the backseat, I control my face when she drops her head on my shoulder. She sighs and places her hand on my thigh. Fighting the urge to push her against the door, I pat her hand and grin at the driver.

“Newlyweds,” I announce and wait until he looks down to squeeze her hand hard enough to inflict pain, and she moves to rest her head on the window.

The sedative has her where I want her by the time we make it to the private jet. I remove a purse, her fake passport, a prescription bottle, and a few unnecessary items that women carry in their purses from my bag and stuff the purse.

Her head dips because she’s falling asleep as we get to the airstrip. “Don’t fall asleep,mi amor. We’re almost there,” I coo with a gentleness I don’t feel.

I put on shades and give her some. The driver accepts the crisp bills after I usher us out. The best way to get through a suspicious situation is to look like you belong and aren’t doing anything wrong. I sigh because I don’t like talking. Small talk is bullshit. Get to the business and get out. The rest is unnecessary.

Rolling my shoulders, I prepare to fall into my role. Timing is precision since she’s falling into the glazed over sleepy phase. Time to act unnecessarily “Hispanic.”

“Vamos, mamita,we don’t want to be late!” The airport security guy looks at her and me, then her again, then back tome. “Mami, I told you that the third margarita wasno bueno,” I say as I pass.

She doesn’t respond because she’s beyond the point of being coherent, but they don’t need to know that. I need to talk enough for both of us. The flight attendant looks nervous when we approach.

“¡Buenas tardes, preciosa!” I greet her and slide her our tickets and my fake ID. Her smile is tight as she looks at my almost dead weight.

“Ma’am? Your ID.”

Jadajust blows a raspberry and giggles.Dios mio.

“Perdon, mami. She’s a nervous flyer.” I open the purse I’d put on her shoulder then pretend to look for it while placing random items on the counter. “Women’s purses, geesh. Am I right?”

My phone, with her drinking a margarita as my screensaver, the photo college we just made, the prescribed anti-anxiety medication for the flight, one tampon, face moisturizer, some hair ties, and condoms clutter the counter.

“Ah! Finally!”

I open the passport and slide it to her while pushing the condoms with it. The condoms serve their purpose when she blushes and pushes everything back in my direction.

“Enjoy your flight,” she says tightly as we move through security.

“Mami, I can’t wait to get to our room. I’m taking Jello shots off your body, then I’ll make you call me Jesus.” Uncomfortable sex talk also distracts people from doing their job properly.Jadasmiles sleepily, and the guard rolls her eyes. “Ah! Get it? It’s a Spanish name, but It’s divine.” I cross myself and kiss my thumb. “And my name isn’t evenJesus,” I yammer as I walk through the scanner. I turn to look at my bait like I care abouther appearance. “Look at my wife,” I say to the guy. “Isn’t she beautiful? I can’t wait to bite your ass,Gatita.”

No one speaks to us, and we board the private jet without a hitch or delay. I buckle her across from me and she passes out the moment she’s comfortable.

When she awakens, we’ll be in another country, and she won’t have any idea how we got there. The FBI agents in Father’s pocket can’t help him now. He’ll have to come find us himself.

SEVEN

Inaya

The steady rockingof my body awakens me. Water sloshes underneath the hardwood, and my stomach roils from the motion. Squinting, I open my eyes and check my surroundings. Blue skies, a clear ocean, and land nowhere in sight. I can’t tell how I know, but we’re no longer in the United States. It feels different. Smells different. The pounding in my head makes me squeeze my eyes closed. I’m groggy from whatever he gave me.Fuck.Between him and Zagan, I’ve been knocked out four times in the last two days. I’m over it. He left me sprawled on the floor of the boat while he rowed us to where I assume is the shore.

Each task he completes has me feeling closer to death, yet I don’t know my purpose. The next location seems like it’ll be the type of place one goes to disappear, though. All I wanted to do was distance myself from my dad and his dealings, yet I’m caught in the middle of some bullshit I never wanted to know existed. I stretch as well as I can, since my entire body aches.

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