by Melissa Jane
“Maybe.” She bit her crusty lip which only made her ugly. I had to give it Gabriel. His club was only stacked with beauties—girls who had families to support. Beautiful women who took care of themselves and could entertain the wealthy. Here? This was a poor man’s club with poor, drugged fucked women desperate for a dollar and willing to accept their next hit as payment.
I threw a zip lock bag of coke on the counter for extra persuasion. The waitress’s eyes widened, her greedy little hand eager to snatch at it. “I’m keen for good night, and I trust you can find girls suitable for that.”
She looked to me, still caught in a drug-lust haze. “I can help you. Follow me.”
I pocketed the drugs and allowed the waitress to lead the way. We by-passed the stages, and the girl disappeared behind a thick black curtain before holding it to the side for me. She spoke with the bouncer manning the entry, a terse interaction that had her promising a share of her profits.
He moved away and opened the heavy door and closed it again behind us.
It was foul. Stale piss and recycled air that had been doing the rotations since the place opened. I swallowed hard, my eyes beginning to prickle as we made our way down a hall with thick red and heavy stained carpet. There were multiple doors Frederico could be behind.
“Here,” the waitress said, opening the door to a dingy room with only a bed. “Wait here, and I’ll bring you some girls to choose from.”
“Thank you,” I said, grateful for her addiction. She paused, looking around the room nervously before once again meeting my eyes. Retrieving the zip-lock bag, I tossed it to her, and she caught it with both hands as if it were an injured butterfly. She turned on her heel and made a quick exit. Pulling my Glock free, I moved fast back down the hall. The first room was unlocked, yet the moans from inside told me it was occupied. Flinging the door open, I dissected the array of bodies.
The two women were all over the man like a suction.
“Hey!” I yelled gaining their attention. One of the girls pulled her mouth free from the man’s cock and screamed. She slid backward off the bed clutching at the loose sheets to protect herself. The man bolted upright, but it wasn’t Frederico. He muttered a string of curses, pushing the other girl off him in a show of bravado. His dick was now flaccid as he stumbled free of the sheets toward me. I shot at the lamp, and the women crouched in terror.
The man stopped, raising his hands in surrender while I backed out, closing the door. I inspected the second and third rooms where the patrons were too embroiled in their sloppy rendezvous to care. None of them was Frederico.
With two doors left, I knew the waitress would be returning soon with my selection. Taking a gamble, I chose the door at the far end. Kicking it open I observed the mess. It seemed wherever Frederico went he took his disorder with him. The room was filled with old takeaway packaging, empty alcohol bottles and drug paraphernalia. The side tables were covered in the white powder, and the room was foul with sweat, piss, and cum. No one reacted to me being there. They were all on a high from a recent hit. Three girls lazily fucked each other while trying rouse Frederico’s limp dick. He was lying on his back, close to succumbing to an overdose. Sweat layered his podgy body and saliva leaked from the corner of his mouth.
I entered the room, and the girls cast me a disinterested look.
“Frederico?”
He groaned at the sound of his name before he muttered one word. “What?” It was barely audible, but it was all I needed. He fit the description.
I aimed my Glock at his head and pulled the trigger without hesitation. Even when dead, his eyes were the same as in living. Dull. Void of comprehension. I estimated he was close to death by his own hand anyway. The girls finally stopped and slipped to the side, completely unfazed with the hit they just witnessed. I looked to them, eyes hazy and bruised. There was whip marks across the back and ass of one of them. They were so bad, the skin had broken, and some were oozing blood and puss. Frederico had gone to town on the girls, and that explained their indifference to his murder. I had done them a favor. Sought revenge for them when they couldn’t themselves. Slowly they stood, scanning the room for some clothing to wrap around themselves before silently leaving.
The whole thing was surreal. Trance like.
I looked back to the naked body in the sweat stained bed. I took a photo and sent it to Gabriel.
My job here was done.
Frederico had unknowingly given me the chance to secure myself within Los Santos cartel. Trust had been restored, and my compliance had seen the end of many traitors foolish enough to challenge the dangerous drug lords. What I didn’t know at the time was that it would be almost two years of catering to Gabriel, before I became officially acquainted with his uncle.
Two Years Later
Music rolled over the mountains. The excited squeals and playful yelps of women as they were thrown into the pool or groped by overzealous drunk men pulsed through the valley surrounding the mansion. Alcohol flowed over the rims of cups, which were emptied in record time, only to repeat the motion.
“Hunter, my man,” Gabriel approached flanked by two women wearing only bikini bottoms. Their breasts bounced as they followed like excited puppies. After hunting down Frederico and taking on many shoot-to-kill cases since, Gabriel had taken to calling me by something he considered more fitting.
Hunter.
I loathed it.
This wasn’t the man I wanted to be. The people I took out were killers and rapists, who didn’t deserve the air they breathed. I wasn’t anyone’s Muppet.
“You should be enjoying this more than anyone.” He gestured around the pool area alive with partygoers.
“I was enjoying it until you blocked my sun, asshole, so move.”
He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder before heading inside the mansion.
It had been two years of successful smuggling. Not one cargo container, truck passing through the border or crop field damage incident to speak of. Gabriel and Luis Santos were in their prime. Los Santos cartel had risen to the top and was South America’s leading drug manufacturer. They basked in their glory. Celebrated each deal and partied frequently. Except Luis was still nowhere to be seen. I had heard his voice through speaker phone on a few occasions, but the conversations were hushed and cryptic. When Jase and I took La Balsa, I had no idea I would still be tangled in their web two years on. Whenever I stumbled on a lead of Luis’s whereabouts, it turned cold almost instantly. The man was untouchable. He was a prime target for many, and he never let his guard down.
The party continued until the sun was setting behind the hills. Gabriel finally returned to the pool, sans the topless women from earlier. He sat on the chair opposite me, fingers steepled under his chin.
“Now what?” I asked, my frown mirroring his.
“Do you remember the man Andrews, who was my spy for the Mexican Baja Californian cartel?”
How could I forget? He had been my first hit for Gabriel. I remembered every name, every face.
I nodded, and he continued, “Talk is… Baja are going for a fortune that belongs to Santos.” Holding out the bottle, he asked, “Another?”
“What type of fortune?” He was referring to the Florez cartel fortune. I knew the story. Everyone did, but I played along.
“A whole lot of happiness and a great deal of US dollars.”
“How much in total?”
“A hundred million.”
These men would stop at nothing to get their hands on such a fortune, and I predicted a bloody war ahead.
“How do you know they’re on a trail for it?”
“They’ve caught the scent. Plus, they’ve known about it from the very beginning. The Baja needed our help in intercepting a trade bound for Cuba. The Florez cartel found out and killed my cousin, Xavier, who had infiltrated the group. The drugs never made it to shore, and Hector Florez inherited back his own drug haul, plus the money. A hundred mil to be exact. That money was ours.” He beat his ch
est with a closed fist. “The fucker, Florez, put the money in an offshore account knowing he had made enemies with two cartels ready to go to war over it.”
“Where is this leading?”
“Hector and his cartel is long since dead, but his money still makes interest sitting in a bank account somewhere. I hear the FBI Fraud Division has frozen the monies preventing any hackers from entertaining the thought. Baja is after someone in the FBI who can break through security. If we don’t act now, in a matter of days, the fortune will be sitting pretty in a Baja account. You can appreciate how we simply cannot allow that to happen.”
“That’s a lot of money to just ignore.”
“My uncle is determined to beat them to it. To him, it’s personal. We agreed all those years ago to help Baja. They were small, with little to no army. We were to get a cut. Now? Now, they want it all for themselves. They want all the money, when it was Luis who lost his only son for their war.”
This was the best news I had heard for two years.
“So will Luis be handling this?”
“After you find our new target, he will be making a special trip to personally ensure the money is transferred.”
I hid my smile well. His time was coming. Finally.
“Who’s the target?
“FBI Agent Nina Cross.”
“Why her?”
“Pretty don’t you think?” Gabriel mused over a photo of a beautiful dark haired woman. The picture had been taken without her knowledge. The wind caught her hair as she looked over her shoulder toward on-coming traffic. “I think once business is done, she and I will get to know each other.” There was a wicked gleam in his eyes, and I felt the pit of my stomach revolt. Up until now, Gabriel had me taking care of his dirty work. The dirty work just happened to be those who deserved to be six feet under. But now? Now I was expected to bring him an innocent woman. A woman he already had sinister plans for.
“What makes you think she can help?”
“She’s a rookie in the Criminal Fraud Division. Still learning the ropes. She is also the only one who is unaware of her connections to us already.”
I shot him a confused look.
“Her father was also an agent. Way back when we were taking control of the east coast. He was easily swayed by the smell of money and worked with us for quite some time until his better moral judgment won. East coast sales were thriving because he turned a blind eye to drug corruption. Having him work against us, potentially narking until we had every uniform cop on our backs, was not an option. My uncle Luis shot him dead personally. It went in the books as just another slain agent caught in the crossfire.”
“So how did you maintain control of the east coast?”
“Agent Delacroix was quick to take his place. Nina’s boss and best friend of her father.”
Agent Delacroix.
The same agent I’d met in the Chief Hanson’s office the night of Yusuf Alamand’s arrest. The same man I had suspicions about two years ago. A counter-terrorism agency working hand-in-hand with the Chief of the Criminal Fraud Division. The same chief of criminal fraud who was now rendezvousing with South America’s leading cartel.
And then there was the smaller fish. Nina Cross. She had no idea who she worked for. She had no idea that the man she saw every day knew her father’s murderer and said nothing this whole time.
“So why not bring him across the border?”
“Let’s just say, Delacroix’s allegiance has been pulled into question. Gone rogue if you will. He’s refusing to lift the ten-year freeze on the account. The FBI has a hold over the monies in the off-shore account because the bank in Cuba is part owned by the US. As of now, the money is frozen. Untouchable by people like the Baja cartel and us. And at this moment, he has the most control, which makes him a dangerous target.”
“Why is he protecting the money for you?”
“Not just him. Thomas Garcia, Nina’s partner, is also in on the action. Two years ago, Garcia’s partner was Evan Jacob’s. Some smart fucker who liked to snoop through Government issued bans on money in off-shore accounts. He was already dreaming of spending up big with money that wasn’t his. The problem was, he like all other government workers, can’t have off-shore accounts themselves to move money into. Any large transfers in US soil accounts would raise suspicion with good old Uncle Sam. Drip feeding the money would then cause alarm from the international holding bank. You see, without us, the cartels, these agents could do nothing but babysit the money. Over the years, Jacob’s formed an allegiance with the Baja Californian cartel. One day he got the balls to hack into the security platform to lift the freeze. Delacroix was straight on it. Jacob’s wasn’t stupid. He knew his boss worked for Los Santos and threatened to expose him if he took that matter further.” Gabriel seemed amused by the whole charade. “Fancy that, brother, three FBI agents specializing in criminal money laundering all holding hands with the cartels. We’re all fucking doomed.” He threw a piece of orange in his mouth mid-laugh. “Delacroix agreed not to pin anything on him, but instead, issued a suspension with pay option just to get him out of the picture. He took it. But now he’s under constant surveillance.”
“So… this girl—”
“This girl is our golden ticket. Delacroix will never suspect his rookie agent would ever have anything to do with it. With him out of the picture, he loses his hefty cut of the deal.”
“And then what? You kill her?”
Gabriel tilted his head and smiled like I needed it spelled out. “No brother, not me. You will.”
“Here.” Gabriel threw a passport on my bed as I packed a duffle bag of clothes. “There will be a man on the other end waiting to meet you. He has everything arranged, including your accommodation.”
“Okay.” I opened the passport with the American emblem on the front. Hunter Anderson the name read. How apt.
I studied the photo with interest. It was greatly different to the last one I possessed. My appearance had significantly changed. When in Special Forces, I had lean muscle, the constant sweating while wearing my gear in the Arabian Desert had kept the weight off. My hair, having been covered with a balaclava most days was kept short with weekly appointments with the clippers.
Now?
Now was a different story.
My body had welcomed the almost daily workouts. The bulking muscle had changed my physique including my face. While I still had a strong jawline, it now bore a constant five-day growth and my hair was longer. The Colombian sun had bronzed my skin, years of killing and stress creating fine lines around my eyes.
“He will also supply you with weapons,” Gabriel interrupted my thoughts, “but I urge you to be discreet.” His tone was serious. A warning. Across the borders in Mexico and Colombia, he could lose control and the governments’ could turn a blind eye. In the States, that wasn’t a luxury one could afford.
“I know how to be discreet,” I assured. I held his gaze until he relaxed.
“The Baja cartel are already on the scent. Word is they want Thomas Garcia killed and Nina Cross for their intel. Don’t get caught up with Garcia, he isn’t our concern, and if they want to take him out, let them. That’s one less fucker on my ‘kill list’ that I have to be concerned about. Let them take the fall. Bring Nina to me. Alive! And if any of those Baja cunts tries to stop you, you have my permission to sort them out.”
I knew what ‘sort them out’ meant. I had seen it too many times when I was first inducted a Saint. A bullet to each eye with a crude carving of LS on their foreheads. Their men would die marked with a rival cartel’s initial. That was getting off lightly. A traitor like myself could expect to be shot in both knees, dropped in the middle of town square and set alight, while folk on their way to work could do nothing but gasp and stare in horror.
I had no plans to kill Nina Cross.
I would bring her across the border to Gabriel’s Mexican base, all the while keeping everyone at a distance. I needed Luis Santos in front of me with my Glock
positioned between his eyes. I needed him to beg for his life the way so many La Balsa people had to. I needed him to take his last breath just like my father had. Then, if I survived that, the girl would be set free, unharmed, and hopefully forgiving for what I was about to put her through.
It was a warm summer’s day, and New York smelled like the pits. I’d had my target in sight for three days. Now, with the weekend in full swing, she navigated through the streets with ease, her dress moving with her hips. Her long silky hair tied in a ponytail swayed side to side with each step. She was unaware of my presence. None-the-wiser that my apartment was directly opposite hers with a window view of her living and bedroom.
She had habits. Daily rituals which she followed to a tee. Her quirks made me smile, and her clumsiness has me shaking my head. Nina spent most of her time digging and investigating into criminal activities, which meant she wasn’t as coordinated and stealthily as other agents on the frontline.
I kept my trail that had become routine, following only yards behind, her perfume catching in the breeze. She’d stop at the Starbucks on W 34th Street at seven in the morning. She would buy two ice-teas and hand one to the same homeless man who opened the doors to customers every day. His efforts of making a buck go largely unnoticed by the masses, except for Nina. He knows her by name, and his eyes light up when he sees her warm smile. When she hits the streets with Garcia to and from meetings with other investigating specialists, she laughs hysterically at his jokes. He looks at her with soft eyes and her in turn. They have a bond, and she has no idea of his cartel connections. When she returns home with a bag full of groceries, she balances it precariously on one knee while attempting to unlock the foyer door. I shake my head, amused that the bench chair by the door goes unused during this effort.
On the sixth night, like every other night, I watch from my window. All the lights in my apartment off, a soft glow emanating from hers. I had a chair positioned in the best vantage point, and I watched as she moved from room to room. I didn’t consider it a perverted act. After following her for so long, it almost felt like I knew her. That in some way, knowing Baja cartel and Los Santos foot soldiers were prowling the area, I needed to protect her.