Page 6 of El Malo

“What’s wrong?” he questions, his voice soft.

“Nothing,” I lie.

His nostrils flare and I know he can see right past it. “Do I need to pull you out of there?”

I jerk to my feet. “W-What? No! I’ve been working my ass off for four years, Michael. Four years.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “Everyone at Langley is asking about you. The information is solid, but Stokes is worried you’ve been under too long.”

“No,” I argue. “Give me a psyche eval. Do whatever you need to do to make Stokes happy. I’m fine. I swear. It’s just been a long week cleaning dust out of every crevice of a giant house that’s got me feeling wacky.” I walk over to him and rest my hands on his shoulders. He turns off the recorder and looks up at me. “I swear I’m fine. I just miss you. This and us.”

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but then closes it. Guilt flashes in his eyes, which makes me feel uneasy. “Okay, babe. I trust you.”

I settle in his lap and he hugs me to him while he types things into his phone one-handed. Safe in my friend’s arms, I let my eyes flutter closed. I’m always on edge at the Estrada estate. My guard is never fully down. With Michael, I can relax.

“When we finally bring this operation down and I get to come home, maybe we can see about getting a place together,” I murmur.

He stiffens. Michael always acts squeamish any time I suggest we further our relationship. Today is no different. “We’ll see, Rosa. We’ll see.”

This time, I let the tear escape. It rolls down my cheek and clings to my jaw, refusing to jump off and soak his shirt.

No one will ever know the heartache I keep locked deep inside.

No one.

After an afternoon of quiet cuddles and one more quick fuck not much different than the other one, I finally leave. Saturday may be my day off, but I still reside at the Estrada home. And nobody wants to be out after dark in the heart of the city, not even a heavily trained CIA operative. I’m a woman, therefore I’m seen as an easy target. And while I may be able to kick a lot of men’s asses, I’m no good against a spray of bullets or a gang of guys. What I have between my legs is often more sought after than guns or weapons.

Knowing the streets and the violence that ensues there, I carry a knife with me and leave my purse at home. With my hair tucked into my hat and dressed in an oversized T-shirt and baggy jeans, I avoid most attention. I keep my head down and my feet moving. Wind whips at my face and my hat goes flying off in a gust. I groan when I twist to see it halfway down the street. My dark locks dance in the wind like a flag calling everyone around me to look.

And boy do they look.

It’s times like these I wish it were okay for Michael to walk me back. But we can’t compromise him like that. We can’t compromise either of us. So, I go at it alone. Even now as I see a guy twice my size making a beeline my way. Experience has taught me that you don’t wait to see if the local is just asking for directions.

No…you run.

I burst down the street running as fast as I can. Each night, I sneak off to Javier’s gym and run for hours on his treadmill. Long after everyone goes to sleep. It pays off for times like these. I can hear the guy grunting not far behind me, but he already sounds winded. There’s a trail that will take me up the side through a thicket of trees to the Estrada estate coming up. I can get off the main road and lose this asshole there. As soon as I see the small gap of trees indicating a trail, I dart off in that direction.

A shot pops off and ricochets off a tree near me. I squeak out in surprise, making sure to duck as I charge along the trail.

Pop! Pop!

I don’t know why this guy is shooting at me, but I’ll be damned if I die from some coke head jerkoff. Not when I’ve put this much time into avenging my mother.

That’s what I’m doing after all.

Bringing down all the Mexican monsters who prey on the innocent and destroy lives.

I’ll bring every last one of them down.

Including Javier. Especially Javier.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my knife. Once I have it flipped open and in my grip, I twist and bend, ready for my attacker. It catches him off guard to see me face off with him. That one small falter is the chance I take. With a hard jab of my fist to his throat, I immobilize him. Another shot pops off and it reminds me to free him of his gun. I raise my arm and then whack it into his. He loses his grip and it falls into the grass with a thud.

Thwap.

Thwap.

Thwap.

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