Page 1 of Cartel Viper
Chapter One
Javier
“Are you sure this is the right one?”
I look over my right shoulder at my brother who shrugs and nods. We’ve had meetings with—shall we say “clients”—in some odd places before.
Some shithole places, some strip clubs we own, and some of the nicest resorts in the world. I don’t recall ever meeting at a three-star, run-of-the-mill hotel. It’s not quite nice enough to write home about, but it’s far too nice to be called seedy.
It’s the type of place a family from middle America would stay if they wanted a cost-efficient visit to New York City. I glance at the room number again and match my brother’s shrug. I tap the key card we got from the receptionist and push the door open with my left hand, my right holding my gun.
I raise it as I enter the room, not trusting anybody or anything because something feels off. The sound of glass hitting the floor, then shattering makes me spin to my left where a woman stands cowering behind the kitchen counter in this extended-stay hotel. She stares at me; her gaze darts between my gun, pointing at her, and my squinting gaze.
This isn’twho should be in this room.
What the fuck went wrong?
I won’t assume anything until I get the all-clear from the men who came with my brother and me. I don’t take my eyes off her as the men fan out, checking the bedroom and the bathroom. Two remain in the hallway, prepared for anyone who unexpectedly joins us.
“Get out.”
The two words are spoken with authority that doesn’t match the woman’s shaken expression or how she continues to tremble.
“Where’s Luigi?”
Her brow furrows. “I don’t know, probably off with Mario.”
It’s my turn for my brow to furrow. Did she just make a video game reference? She cocks an eyebrow, and I see some of her initial shock wear off. Now, anger replaces it. She points toward the door.
“Get the fuck out of my room before I call the cops.”
Joaquin and I chuckle, but it’s hardly a mirthful sound. There’s no way she’s getting to a phone, let alone dialing any numbers before any of us stop her. Everyone here knows it’s an empty threat, but it’s not unexpected.
“Get out before I scream.”
Thatcould be more problematic. She opens her mouth, and I lower my gun. Since none of my men warned me of anything, I’m comfortable holstering it in my shoulder harness. I put my hands out to the side, and I sense Joaquin doing the same thing. The three men who entered with us make themselves unobtrusive near the windows and the bedroom door.
“Whatever you’re here for, I don’t have it. Leave, and we can pretend this never happened.”
There’s something about her voice, and the longer I stare, her face looks so familiar, but I can’t place it. If we’ve met before, it was years ago. I’d certainly remember her if it had been recently.
“I’m serious. Get out.”
She’s faster than any of us expect when she pulls a butcher’s knife from a block holding various sizes. The way she handles it and how her stance changes—this is a woman who’s trained to use a knife, but in the process of grabbing a weapon, her shirt sleeve moves, and I see what are clearly bruised handprints around her wrist.
They’re easy to recognize when you’ve inflicted them thousands of times. Joaquin shifts, not stepping closer, but to get a better view. I’m certain he sees the same thing I do and knows someone hurt her. The bruises are faded but still noticeable.
When neither Joaquin nor I order our men out or make any sign we’re leaving, she grabs a second knife and draws it back. So, she’s prepared to hurl it at one of us. I’m not inclined to get stabbed today.
I also don’t want to take a woman hostage. And I won’t kill one who isn’t a mercenary. That puts me squarely between a rock and a hard place.
“Look, I’m not calling the police. And I haven’t screamed. I don’t need any attention from anyone right now and neither do you. If you kill me or take me, that’s what’ll happen. I know there’re security cameras in the building. If anything happens to me, you’ll be a suspect. Leave, and we can pretend we never met.”
She’s said the same thing twice. I narrow my eyes at her, and the feeling I know her grows even stronger, but I still can’t place it. It’ll surely come to me later.
We can’t wait around much longer if we’re going to get out of here unnoticed. This meeting’s gone to shit. I’ll have men postedhere to watch her. They’ll intervene if she calls the police or tries to go to them.
I take a step backward, and Joaquin follows my cue. With both of their leaders moving toward the door, our men know it’s time to beat a hasty retreat. Neither she nor I take our eyes off of each other as I’m the last one to back out of the door.
