The Perfect Stranger (LOS SANTOS Cartel Story #2)

by Melissa Jane

  I bit into my apple and watched as she turned off her television and placed an empty wine glass on the counter. She pulled her dress over her head, shimmying free of it until only in her underwear. Momentarily, she disappeared passing the wall between her living and bedroom.

  I exhaled heavily in the darkness of my empty room. She was gorgeous in the most natural way God could create a woman.

  Gabriel would definitely make a sport of her.

  He wouldn’t be able to resist, not even for a day.

  Nina reached behind her back and removed her lace bra. I knew I should look away. I had to be the better man. A gentleman.

  But I couldn’t.

  I wouldn’t.

  The sheer curtain blowing in the breeze blurred her figure, and without knowing, I became mesmerized by her movements.

  After a few moments, she disappeared into the bathroom. Twenty minutes after that she walked out in a colored negligee, turning the lights off for the night.

  Emptying my beer, I took another from the fridge before returning to my post. Even while she slept, I needed to play sentry. This was happy hour for criminals to come out and play, and she was one target I wouldn’t allow to become a victim.

  The next week continued much the same. Each day it was a stop at Starbucks to buy two iced teas where Nina greeted her homeless acquaintance. She would engage in friendly humorous banter with Garcia sometimes stopping at the corner diner for lunch. On Wednesdays, she would stop by a bakery for a mid-week splurge and arrive home with groceries on her hip every other day.

  And every night I would watch her.

  Everything was in build up to this particular night. The charity ball with guests including selected FBI specialists dealing with criminal fraud.

  This would be the night.

  The night when I strategically placed myself in her life. The night she would no longer be my target but my reason for the last two years.

  Garcia’s eyes lit up when he saw Nina walking the staircase in her floor length gown. By all admittance, she looked exquisite. The silky material clung to her hips and accentuated her slender waist. I maintained my distance, waiting for the right time to show myself. Relinquishing my invitation to the doorman, I entered the great hall and accepted a glass of champagne.

  A blonde woman with big hair and a dress molded around her oversized breasts greeted me. Her smile revealed snow-white teeth. She was an older lady with an air of wealth—a bored housewife of an inattentive congressman.

  “Do you know…” she began in a thick Jersey accent, “…you look awfully familiar. Tell me where I may have seen you before, and how do I see more of you now.”

  Her ringed fingers gently caressed her plunging neckline, an attempt to draw my eyes into her seductive play.

  “Just one of those faces,” I replied and frowned a little when her cheeks flushed.

  “My, my, you do have a gravelly voice. Almost better than the face.”

  It was an innocent yet tedious flirt. If she was, in fact, the wife of someone high on the ladder, it wasn’t in my best interest to be seen with her. Being conspicuous would only lead to a positive ID.

  “You know, my husband…” she continued while I scanned the room feigning interest. The more she sipped from her glass, the more she talked. I had tuned out long ago, my eye trained on Nina. More specifically, who she was talking to.

  Delacroix.

  I knew he would be here.

  What I didn’t know was if he remembered me.

  What he didn’t know was how much I knew of his corruption and affiliation with South American drug lords.

  What he would soon experience were the consequences for allowing smaller parties to take the hit for their financial greed.

  “Darling,” a man with a weak voice interrupted my thoughts and his wife’s ramble. “They’re seating us now.”

  The bored wife didn’t look at her husband, but her lips pouted at having to say goodbye.

  I saved her the effort and walked away claiming my seat two rows from Nina. Garcia pulled a chair out for her before claiming his own spot by her side. She sipped on champagne and giggled at her colleague’s jokes. But there was something different about the conversation this time. Garcia was trying too hard. Putting on a face, his eyes darting back to Delacroix across the room every few moments. There was tension, and as I drummed my fingers on the table, observing the three people, I had an uneasy feeling that something more sinister was transpiring as the night progressed.

  My cell buzzed from an incoming message.

  Gabriel.

  Baja are thriving tonight. Eyes out.

  Nice of him to give the warning but not the news I wanted. The cartel was closing in on our target making my success all the more slim.

  Regaining focus, my gaze rested on Nina. She sliced delicately through her duck and sipped on her third glass of champagne. She turned away from Garcia only to meet my eyes. She paused. She stared. Long. Hard. She swallowed, nervous, her knife and fork lowering into the table. For a long moment, Nina was caught, transfixed, like an innocent doe caught in bright lights before willingly being led to its death.

  She was beautiful.

  Perfection.

  She was everything I didn’t need.

  But everything I had to have.

  Pulling away she broke the hold. Her cheeks were flushed, fingers quivering. Barely moving her lips, she spoke to Garcia who looked my way. He frowned a little, assessing who I was before focusing on his meal. Returning her gaze to mine, she bit at her bottom lip and drank me in. She made no apologies for it, and it took every bit of restraint to not smile at her response. She was as attracted to me as I to her.

  I felt a pang of guilt.

  Using her attraction to gain her trust was cruel. I wanted more of her, but not under these conditions. Not with cartel strings attached. No. I wanted her all for myself.

  Garcia, mid-chew glanced between Nina and me. He made a wise-crack that only made Nina’s face blush harder, and she looked away. A line of late wanderers passed between us to get to their tables, and I took it as my cue to make a phone call.

  “Brother,” Gabriel greeted. “When are you bringing this girl home to me? I have plans for her. Big plans.”

  My skin crawled, and I wanted to reach down the phone and slit his throat. I looked to Nina who was now on the dance floor with Garcia. I watched the way she moved, the way her long flowing hair caressed her skin.

  “Working on it as we speak.” I bit my tongue from saying anything further.

  “Good, don’t leave me hanging. Did you get my message?”

  “Yes.”

  “New York is crawling with both Los Santos and Baja tonight. They’re anticipating a fight. They each have their hit list, Hunter, so don’t get caught in the cross-fire. You see them on the street, keep walking. The Baja know your face, but my men have your back.”

  I suppose that was meant to be comforting. It wasn’t. Truth be told I didn’t want anyone watching my back, especially from Los Santos cartel. Any affiliation with Luis and Gabriel was a dangerous affiliation.

  Nina Cross was just about to learn how dangerous that was.

  She was uneasy, eyes darting all over the ballroom as Garcia moved her around the floor. She was looking for me, and for that, my lips twitched. For the first time in a long time, something as small as that gave me pleasure. The song ended, and Nina was quickly abandoned by her partner when another man approached. She looked desperate to get away, keen for him to believe any excuse just so she could avoid dancing with him. He looked like the type of guy who would push her face onto his cock without letting her up for air. The selfish fuckers.

  My feet began walking before I even told them to, bypassing the congressman’s wife along the way. I was behind Nina as she was being yanked to the dancefloor. Wrapping my hands around her waist, I pulled her safely against my chest until the fucker released her arm. He turned, ready to scold like she was a little child. Instead, he trie
d to engage, a challenge I had no interest in entertaining.

  It was Nina who held my attention.

  The way her breath hitched when she fell against me. The way her body molded against mine like a perfect fit. She held me tight, arms over arms, never letting go.

  “You ready?” I murmured against her ear. Her eyes closed, quivering as my voice rumbled against her cheek.

  “We were about to dance,” the douchebag barked, indignant.

  “No, you weren’t.” With my hand on the small of her back, I led Nina to the dance floor, pulling her body tight against mine. She smelled like a basket of berries. Sweet and enticing.

  Our cheeks touched, and her heart thudded. She was nervous. I put her in this state. This was good. We danced like our bodies automatically fell in sync. She let me guide her with ease, and it felt far too natural to have her so close.

  The moment of perfection was interrupted by reality. Eyes were watching. Without much effort, I was easily able to locate the source. In one corner stood the congressman’s wife whose spitefully jealous glare only made her surgically enhanced face twist with ugliness. Her arms were crossed, a glass of champagne dangling loosely from her fingers, its contents sloshing over the edges. A mere ten yards away was Chief Delacroix. With narrowed eyes he continued to study me, still unable to place my face. My welcome here was quickly wearing thin, but I needed just a moment longer.

  “Who are you?” Nina managed with a shaky breath.

  A criminal. A stalker. A killer. You pick.

  “Someone you probably don’t want to know.” I didn’t want to lie to her. I was already doing enough damage to the girl just by being here. I grazed my rough cheek against hers, and again she shivered.

  “Then why are you dancing with me?”

  “Because you intrigue me, Nina Cross.” She stiffened when I said her name. Above the music, I could hear her nervous swallow.

  “I’m just another face in the crowd.”

  I smiled at her modesty and then cringed. She had no idea how wrong she was. Her beautiful face was a target. “Even if you were in masquerade, I would know those lips anywhere.” I opted for the better side of the truth.

  Her cheeks warmed against mine, and I didn’t want to let her go. If this was any other night, it would be perfection. Nina would be mine, and she would be safe. But it’s not. Two warring cartels were on the prowl and I—the one who made her weak at the knees—would be the one to take her back to the wolf pack.

  “So you know who I am, tell me who you are?” she persisted.

  I looked to Delacroix who held my gaze with his cell to his ear. “You should be careful who you trust, Nina,” I warned, hating the severity of the words and the effect it had on her. She tried to pull away, but I held her tight.

  “Why?” I could hear the panic in her voice. “What makes you say that?”

  Delacroix ended his call, his hand frozen mid-air as he watched. It was time. “Thank you for the dance,” I said, regretfully pulling away.

  She caught my arm, eyes wide and loaded with so many unanswered questions. “Please, just wait. Tell me who you are?”

  I leaned in one last time and inhaled her delicate scent.

  Intoxicating.

  Pure.

  Don’t lie to her.

  My lips grazed her ear, and she shivered.

  Then I told her the four words that summed me up.

  Four words that spoke of her grim future.

  Four words she would always see me as.

  “I am your ruin.”

  I left Nina on the dance floor. I left her with four words that she wouldn’t yet know what to do with. She should be running. But she won’t. I descended the stairs of the ballroom and was hit by a wall of foul NYC stench. Three men waited on the sidewalk engaged in conversation. Two were Hispanic, finely detailed tattoos exposed above their collared shirts. But that wasn’t what caught my attention. A flicker of metal reflecting the light revealed the badge of a plain clothed officer. His fingers instinctively covered it up, narrowed eyes meeting mine. He exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke as he watched me turn the opposite way.

  I didn’t know him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of who I was. Perhaps he was Los Santos. Perhaps he was Baja. Or maybe by chance he was a legit, uncorrupted officer. Either way, I wasn’t taking my chances.

  I walked to the corner of the street before doubling back on the other side where I claimed a seat at a small diner with a large window frontage. The waitress appeared within seconds and filled a white porcelain cup with stale coffee. I watched as two figures came into view, exiting the ballroom and onto the street. It was Nina and Tomas Garcia. The three men who had been waiting out the front casually extinguished their cigarettes and watched as Nina and Garcia climbed into a cab. When it had begun its journey, the men filed into a parked black sedan before starting their tail.

  “You can order real coffee off the menu,” the waitress had returned seeing my lukewarm coffee now cold.

  Without answering, I pushed my way out of the booth and hailed the next cab. He swerved into the curb at my sudden appearance and asked no questions when I told him to follow the black sedan. We weaved through the city, bright lights bouncing off the vehicles as we followed each other.

  “Keep going,” I instructed the driver as the first cab ahead pulled on its brake lights. We were back at Nina’s apartment block. The black sedan had pulled over twenty yards behind, the engine still running. For now, they weren’t after her. She laughed a farewell to Garcia as the cab continued on its journey with him still in the back. The sedan pulled out while I passed them both in my cab.

  “Stop here.” Passing some bills over the seat, I stepped onto the sidewalk in time to see Nina close the foyer security door. I waited a few moments until the lights in her apartment flicked on, her silhouette telling me she was safe. For now. I couldn’t be in two places at once, and if I were to choose, it would be watching over Nina. Entering my own building, I made it back up to my room in time to see through the blur of the curtains, Nina unzips her dress and walks to the bathroom. She was going about her normal routine. Living her life none the wiser that two cartels were breathing down her neck.

  I hadn’t moved for the last two hours. I watched the foyer entry and recorded the few people who came and went. It was quiet, nothing extraordinary other than the few residents who lived there returning from their Saturday night out.

  Her lights flicked on. I glanced at my watch. It was almost three. Nina never woke during the night. She was a heavy sleeper. Stumbling away from the bed, she paced back and forth before disappearing into the bathroom.

  “What is it?” I asked almost hoping she would hear and answer me.

  There was no one else in the room, but something had her spooked.

  “Come out, Nina, come out.” My breath on the window caused it to fog as I waited for her to re-emerge. What felt like a lifetime passed before she came back into view pulling a shirt over her head.

  She was getting dressed.

  Only one person would have her acting in such haste.

  Garcia.

  Police units were on the scene, flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the surrounding buildings. The road was cordoned off, neighbors wrapped in their night robes standing around the barricades being erected.

  Before the cab has even pulled to a stop outside Garcia’s, Nina had bolted out the door. The ground officers attempted to intercept, but she was already taking to the stairs of the apartment block.

  My cell buzzed. A series of messages.

  It was Gabriel.

  Brother. This just in from Baja.

  I pressed open on the attachments and watched as a montage of photos played on my cell.

  It was Garcia.

  The first two he was alive, caught unawares and virtually naked as he was woken from sleep. There was fear in his eyes, his mouth open in protest. The next, he was dead. His body was slumped over the bed, his face almost completely b
lown off. In the background, blood and gore coated the wall and the sheets.

  The Garcia she knew and loved existed no more.

  Revenge and retribution.

  This was what Nina was walking into. This was her new reality.

  She moved like a part of her had been destroyed. In a way, it had. I understood that feeling all too well. Nina had lost a best friend and colleague in the most heinous of ways. The Baja cartel had done a number on Garcia, and now Nina was left to pick up the pieces. Closing the cab door, she swiped at the tears. The driver took off down the now quiet street leaving her on the sidewalk. She seemed lost, confused. When she turned to unlock the foyer door, I started to cross the road. I wanted to console her, to take her in my arms and breathe her in until she had no tears left to cry. But I stopped. We were the only two people in the area, and she had no idea I was standing behind her. I could have been anyone.

  I could have been Baja cartel preparing to blow her face off.

  But the truth was, I wasn’t Baja. I was Los Santos, and it was me who would be her ruin.

  Nina Cross was a force to be reckoned with.

  Later that morning with the sun high in the sky, I followed her through town to the station. She was on a mission. This puzzle wasn’t making sense to her. The brutality of Garcia’s slaying had raised more questions than answers, and she was taking it upon herself to solve the crime. When she emerged shortly after, her face revealed the truth.

  Frustration.

  Anger

  Doubt.

  Betrayal.

  I leaned against the wall of a kebab shop on the other side, the rank smell of the subway wafting past. She tilted her face to catch the last rays of the sun before they disappeared behind the buildings.