Page 4 of Lethal Vengeance
“I heard. Qué pena que haya muerto,toda la familia lo va a extrañar mucho,” I murmur the expected platitude. The image of Julio’s tortured body splayed out in the desert with my knife in his chest flashes in my mind. It really is a pity you can only kill someone once.
He makes the sign of the cross. “Some blamed me. So, you see, I can’t fail the organization a second time.”
I narrow my eyes, contemplating what version of the truth to tell him. I can’t lie. He’d spot it instantly. “He wanted to meet me. I’ve successfully been doing jobs for him and the organization for over a year now, and he was curious about me. He asked a lot of questions, including what I envision for my future. I want to be a major player in his organization.” I lean forward to impart my exciting news. “Basically, if I keep up the good work, he might have an opportunity to bring me on in a bigger role.”
Dark eyes stare into mine while he sifts through my words in his mind. After a minute or two, he slides his hand in mine to pass over the drive. “Usual password. Quick job. Must be done in the next couple of days.”
“Product or labor?” I ask, pulling my hand from his smooth palm.
“Product,” he replies with a smirk.
Bastard knows I hate his touch, but I imagine most women do. He thinks it’s the burns on his hands, but it’s not. His skin is saturated with the deaths of his victims. You can feel the evil inside when you touch him.
I finish my drink and slide off the barstool. “Good chat, Rodrigo, but I need some beauty sleep. Good night.”
Deliberately turning my back to him, I walk to the end of the bar and hand Lupe, the bartender, a hefty tip. There’s no way he’ll leave her one. I just hope he’s not in the mood to stay long. I like this little cantina.
A lean hand and a cold beer in the bar mirror catch my eye. I freeze. It’s rare for me not to notice someone sitting so close. The bar was empty when I sat down. Did he come in with Rodrigo or after?
Adjusting my purse, I slip my phone into my hand and tap the camera icon. As I leave, I snap a few pics on my way out the door. After a couple of blocks, I stop to flip through the images.
A good-looking man with chin-length, blondish-brown hair, and intense brown eyes, stares back at me, his lips pressed flat with emotion, as if he’s pissed off or something. Until I get to the last two frames, when a raised eyebrow and a half-smile show up.
I chuckle. He must have figured out I took his picture.
Obviously not a tourist, I muse, tapping save.
Fifteen minutes later, on a more secure network, I send the picture to one of my contacts. This particular person is buried deep in the dark web with access to almost any information. She charges a ton, but it’s worth it.
While I wait for her to get back to me, I plug in the drive. Quickly reading through the information, I note the time and date of the rendezvous, but the rest of the details are sparse. Tomorrow night, five products will be waiting for me across the border. Specific coordinates will be given to me when I get there. My job is to transport the contents safely to the next location. Usually I transport the goods myself, but it looks like I’ll be transporting drug mules tomorrow.
I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking of the danger they face transporting packets in their body. The only time Armando transports drugs in humans is when it’s a particularly valuable, specialized product, because the transport cost is high. Unlike other drug lords, his mules are typically high-end individuals who happen to be desperate for money. The payout is astronomical because the success rate is extremely high—few law enforcement agencies will stop someone who is well-dressed with a bored expression on their face. I shudder.
With a sigh, I prepare several injections and stow them in my bag. It’s easier to make shipments disappear at various checkpoints, but mules require a different strategy.
After dinner, I walk over to my computer to shut it down and find a message waiting.
Who did you piss off? His name is Cruz, used to be CIA’s “ghost,” sent to eliminate potential problems. Highly skilled and dangerous. Lethal. Unknown kill count but estimated to be high. Rumored to be private sector now. No known sightings in the last six years until you. Sorry for the bad news. It’s been nice knowing you. Payment due upon receipt.
Sliding into the chair, I instantly send my thanks along with the payment. I chew the inside of my cheek while I try to figure out this latest twist. Did one of my contacts spill their secrets? Very few people know I’m alive, much less where I’m living.
For hours, I try to figure out his angle, but I finally give up and drop into sleep. If he wants to kill me, he’ll have to wait. Tomorrow will be here before I know it, and these jobs take every bit of my focus.
3
QUINN
Rodrigo is a lying, mother fucking asshole and if he was here right now, I’d put a bullet in his brain. No, I’d cut off his balls, shove them down his throat, and blow his head off. I blink a few times, praying the image in front of me will disappear, but it doesn’t. Five beautiful unconscious young girls lie side-by-side in the back of a windowless van. The product I have to transport. No wonder Rodrigo was smirking last night.
My breath stutters while I stand there helplessly trying to swallow the lump in my throat. I turn burning eyes toward the man beside me, who’s leering at them. He reaches for one of the girls. A split second later, my gun is pointed at his head.
“If you lay one finger on that girl, it will be the last thing you do,” I inform him, my voice full of rage. “Now, why don’t you do your job and give me the fucking coordinates? Time is ticking.” My finger twitches, desperate to pull the trigger.
Hate-filled eyes turn toward me, but whatever he sees in my face quickly convinces him to do what he was paid to do. He hands me a piece of paper.
“Coordinates. Keys are in the ignition. They will wake in about three hours. Give them the water and it will knock them out the rest of the way.” His eyes dart to the gun in my hand. “You have what you need.”
After a few seconds, I pull out my phone with my other hand and tap the camera icon. When I raise it, he puts a hand in front of his face.
