The Perfect Stranger (LOS SANTOS Cartel Story #2)

by Melissa Jane

  My grip tightened drawing her in close against my chest. Nina, while flushed, looked like she wanted to both kiss and slap me. I would take either from her.

  “You’re looking too much within the square, Nina.” She swallowed hard at my intense stare, an inner war waging within. “Sometimes it all comes down to the wealth of knowledge others see in you.”

  “Whatever,” she dismissed. “I need to get out of here before—”

  “Before?”

  “Before I get killed or do something I shouldn’t. Both equally as bad.” She pulled free from my grasp and crossed the threshold.

  “Nina.” When I said her name, she stopped and briefly closed her eyes, her shoulders relaxing the slightest degree. “Evan Jacobs aside, I was watching you well before you even knew who I was.”

  I didn’t want to spook her. The last interaction hadn’t gone so well, and the last thing I wanted was to have her off-side. A foolish thought given all that I was going to put her through. A part of me wanted to take her and run to a place void of all lurking cartels. A place where I could indulge her, taste her and get to know the real Nina Cross. Instead, I could feel myself becoming the man I didn’t want to be. My vendetta against Luis Santos had reached new heights. There was no question that his acts of terrorism toward the people of La Balsa required retribution. He would suffer the way they did. I would make him pay for the lives he took, including that of my father. Involving Nina was not ideal. But with talk of the asshole resurfacing in the wake of the money transfer, I had to take my chances.

  I allowed Nina a head start. After watching her drive west, I followed suit.

  The time was coming.

  I needed to bite the bullet.

  The sooner we crossed the border, the quicker we could return.

  I would do anything within my power to have her forgive me.

  I would do anything within my power for her to not see me as one of them.

  I drove through a small town a few miles short of El Paso and quickly circled back around. I pulled in behind Nina’s car. Same make, same number plate. But no Nina. It was parked outside a small motel with not a soul to be seen. The streets were eerily quiet except for the few cars passing between. Entering the motel foyer, I was greeted by a middle-aged man who hadn’t looked like he had smiled in a decade.

  “Morning,” he greeted without any warmth.

  “Good morning,” I returned. “I’m looking for Nina Cross. She would have just checked in.”

  Calmly, he placed his pen on the counter and faced me head on. “And you are?”

  Her kidnapper.

  “Her husband. I’ve tried to reach her on her cell but the reception here is—”

  “I know,” he conceded like there’s been an ongoing war over the issue. “They can put a man on the moon and satellites in space, but more than one bar of reception in El Paso and suddenly it’s a no-can-do.”

  “Right,” I smiled, happy to have him on side.

  “She’s in room eleven, but I’m certain I saw her head down the road in the direction of the convenience store not long before you pulled in.”

  “That’s great, thank you.” I made to leave but was stopped by the tone of the man’s voice.

  “I ah, told Mrs. Cross that we don’t take too well to trouble in these parts of town. She’s an agent and she looked a little edgy, you know? And well, you certainly fit the build too…” He paused for effect. “You know what I’m sayin’?”

  “I’m certainly not looking for trouble.”

  “Yeah… that’s exactly what she said.” We waited in a silent stand-off. “Well, all right then, enjoy your stay.”

  Nodding, I made my exit back into the bright sunlight.

  My arrival was timely as three men entered the convenience store. Three men who could easily have belonged to Los Santos or Baja. They were all inked, the shirtless man more so than the others. One looked edgy and hyperactive, as though he was on an extreme high, while the third looked like he was about to enter a war zone. They were all packing heat and made no effort to conceal the weapons.

  Positioning myself over behind the trunk of a car, I watched through the scope of the assault rifle. The same assault rifle given by Santos men when they retrieved Jair Ruiz.

  Nina was there, her back to me.

  In a literal blink of an eye, it all happened.

  The situation had escalated, tattoo already pointing his gun at her head while another had his semi-auto lined up to the store clerk who was wielding his own sawn-off shotgun.

  Although I couldn’t hear what was being said, there was a heated exchange between almost everyone in the store. The crack-head jumped from foot to foot eagerly waiting for the all-out war to begin.

  And then it started.

  The convenience store erupted in a fiery battle, the peppering of the semi-automatic destroying everything in sight and shattering the westbound windows, with the cracking boom of the sawn-off smashing anything its wake. With the windows broken, shouts in both English and Spanish were exchanged followed by further rounds. Nina came back into view, her Glock pointing at tattoo man. If she joined in, it would be three against one and her Glock stood no chance.

  I fired, the bullet catching her right arm. She fell backward and out of view. I felt a pang of guilt, but I could live with that over seeing her get sprayed in the cross-fire. The shooting continued for quite some time until everything fell eerily silent.

  I waited, my breathing heavy, fearing the worst and hating that I hadn’t acted sooner—yet, in reality, only a few seconds had passed.

  And then, almost in unison, they rose to their feet appearing back in view. Except one. The store clerk with the sawn-off was no match for the aggression of a semi-automatic. The crack-head tilted his head and howled like a wolf. He was crazy, loose and dangerous.

  Tattoo man had Nina by her ponytail violently yanking her about.

  It was time.

  Lining up my next target, I fired a clean shot obliterating the north facing window. With an explosion of red, the bullet sunk into the head of the man with the semi-auto. The crack-head looked to his fallen comrade before disappearing from sight. Tattoo turned my way, firing a round from his Glock and missing entirely. His face was badly cut, courtesy of the broken glass frontage.

  Crack-head now lined me up, his twisted smile gleeful as he prepared to take his first shot. I beat him to it with a clean bullet hole between the eyes. It was an unusual sight. He still looked high as a kite, wearing a peculiar smile, blood trickling down his face and yet completely dead. He finally fell, tattooed man roaring with anger at another slain comrade.

  One to go.

  He was out of view and as I inched closer to the now destroyed convenience store, I could hear the hostile exchange between him and Nina. I came to rest behind the external waist high ice freezer.

  “Who the fuck are you and why are you following me?” I heard her say.

  “It doesn’t matter how far you run, puta,” tattoo started, his voice laden with an accent. “There’s too many after you and high dollars for your head.”

  Pulling the Beretta free, finger caressing the trigger, I fired. I caught tattoo mid-snarl, his throat exploding upon the bullet entering and exiting. A hideous mass of blood, flesh, and gore sprayed over Nina’s face and covered her chest.

  She screamed, unsure of what had just transpired. Her knees gave way, and she sank to the floor, her Glock dropping to the tiles.

  I walked to her, the doorbell chiming when I crossed the threshold. Pretty, scared eyes traveled slowly from my feet to my face.

  Hooking a hand under her uninjured arm, I brought her to her feet.

  “We need to get out of here,” I murmured, gently, fully aware of her fragile state. “The local authorities won’t be far behind.”

  Moving my hand around her waist, we navigated the debris and lifeless bodies. The return journey to the hotel seemed to take longer than it should have. The manager eyed us both with disgus
t. His wish for peace resulting in a bloody gun battle, with four dead, at the local convenience store. Instead of helping, he flicked the open sign to closed.

  Opening the passenger side, I lowered Nina onto the seat before retrieving her belongings from the motel room. Upon return, I threw the duffle bag in the trunk before climbing into the driver’s seat.

  I felt a wave of guilt as I turned to her. She looked like shit. Blood had congealed on her face and her hair was mattered with gore. Still, she was beautiful. Throwing the car in reverse, we shot down the highway bypassing the obliterated convenience store along the way.

  Nina was the first to break the silence. “Thank you,” she said, appreciatively, though still in shock.

  Casting her a reassuring glance, she caught my eyes and I wanted so desperately to tell her the truth.

  “You don’t ever need to thank me.” I was aware I sounded indifferent.

  How could I tell her that I was here to both save and destroy her?

  She watched me from the corner of her eye. Probably wondering why I came into her life and why I kept turning up at precarious moments with no answers. I could feel the twitch in my jaw return as I contemplated the next week ahead.

  I had to play my cards right.

  For Nina’s sake.

  I had to ensure the façade was never broken. Luis Santos would resurface and when he did, I would be waiting.

  “You have five minutes to clean up then we need to hit the road again.”

  Nina nodded before following me to the nearest motel room. We were only half an hour down the highway when I pulled into a motel carpark hidden from main reception. Sliding a credit card in the gap of the door, I worked the locked until it popped open.

  Nina dropped her bag on the dingy bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later the shower started a steady flow of steam billowing through the door. Unconcerned that I was watching, she unzipped her jeans lowering them to the floor. With a pained effort, Nina tried and failed to pull up her three-quarter sleeve top over her shoulder wound.

  “Let me,” I offered, surprising her. She grew rigid in my presence and gasped when I tore through the top with my knife.

  “Breathe, cariña,” I murmured, my chest grazing her back. When she finally exhaled, I removed the blood-dried material. She winced, and I wanted to kiss her pain away.

  “Shower, then I will see to your injury.” I worked the clasp of Nina’s bra, her skin goose bumping at my touch. Letting it fall to the floor, I stepped back, my body responding to her nakedness in a way inappropriate for the situation.

  A few minutes passed when she re-emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her torso.

  “Sit,” I instructed, threading a sterile needle. Nina sat beside me on the edge of the mattress, silent, still in shock. I listened to her steady breathing while pulling the cork off a small vodka bottle. “Here. Have a few sips.”

  She shook her head, lost in thought. “It’s okay.

  “Just do it.”

  Realizing it was for the pain, she accepted the bottle with a shaky hand. She swallowed a mouthful before wincing from the fiery afterburn. I hid my smile at her innocent reaction.

  Kneeling between her legs, I assessed the damage. “The bullet nicked you, but the wound is quite deep. It’s going to hurt.”

  With a towel under Nina’s arm, I snaked one hand behind her neck, my thumb tracing a small circle on her soft and still warm skin.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  Lips parted ready to answer, but I kissed her hard, possessively, the way she liked, cutting off any words. She responded, eager, passionate, conflicted. When our tongues met, she shrieked. Holding her tight, salty tears falling into the creases of our mouths, while I poured vodka over the wound.

  When the pain subsided and her breathing steadied, I lessened my hold. I kissed her gently, tasting her sweetness. She moaned with pleasure, my teeth gently grazing her bottom lip. Cupping her ass, I pulled her in close, my hard cock straining in my pants. Her fingers raked through my hair, practically panting and having long forgotten about the injury.

  Reality came crashing back, and regretfully I pulled away knowing if I didn’t I would ravage this beautiful woman, placing us both at risk of getting caught. “We need to get out of here.”

  “I know.” She sounded just as torn.

  Resting back on my heels, I locked eyes with Nina and saw hope. She trusted me. She trusted me when I told not to. She wasn’t listening to my warning. She ignored the fact that she knew nothing about me and hated the fact that I couldn’t warn her of what was to come.

  Breaking the hold she had on me, I picked up the threaded needle. “This is going to hurt some more.”

  With the last rays of sun fading, I waited outside for Nina to dress and took the opportunity to message Gabriel.

  Me: Your men are making this operation messy. Keep them clear.

  Ten seconds later, he responded in true form.

  Gabriel: I’m getting impatient, brother. Bring me the girl or my hounds will attack.

  The door opened, and I pocketed the cell. I could feel her eyes watching, but I couldn’t look at the woman who wanted me so much to be her savior. Instead, I made for the car, and she followed.

  Back on the highway, careening toward her murky fate, I broke the silence.

  “I’m sorry I shot you.”

  Her head snapped around at the admission, eyes wide in confused horror.

  “You shot me?”

  I nodded, keeping my focus on the road ahead.

  “Why? On purpose? Were you trying to kill me?”

  “Firstly…” I began, “…I shot you because I needed you out of the picture. You were in the way, ready to cause yourself more grief by taking aim at one of them. Immobilized, you out of harm’s way. Your Glock was no match for their assault rifles and ambition. Like I said, I’m sorry it came down to shooting you. So yes, I guess it was on purpose.”

  “What if you missed my arm and killed me?”

  This time I smiled, chuckled even. “Cariña, I’ve engaged in tactical operations for many years. When I aim, I never miss.”

  “Tact Force, hey?” My lips twitched at the small amount of information she’d won. “Were you an FBI Division? Special Forces?”

  I cast Nina a sideways glance and her eyes softened.

  When I didn’t answer, she fell silent for a good minute, lost in thought. “Were they Los Santos? I saw a tattoo on the man’s chest of the Mother Mary.”

  Up until now, I could have passed them off as Baja.

  “Yes, they were Los Santos. Possibly the same ones that were looking through your window.”

  “How do they keep finding me?”

  “Los Santos are everywhere. It’s complicated.”

  “They are out to kill me. So please explain.”

  I understood her frustration, and while I wasn’t yet in the position to reveal my true self, the least I could do was fill her in on our common enemy.

  For the next thirty minutes, I told her about the trio of waring cartels. I connected the dots between the Florez, Santos and Baja kingpins who were engaged in a drug-fueled battle. I spoke of the violence and the control each held over certain parts of Mexico, South America, and the US.

  “How does this correlate back to me?”

  “For the most part, it won’t. But it will, at least, give you some insight into what you’re dealing with.” I revealed the truth about the allegiance between Los Santos and Baja to get their hands on the Florez fortune and how overnight the deal had gone belly up.

  “So what’s the issue?”

  “Luis Santos Rodriguez.” I didn’t hide my disdain.

  “What happened?”

  He destroyed a whole town. Slaughtered my father. What hasn’t he done?

  “Los Santos and Baja cartels both saw an opportunity they had missed almost five years ago. To get their money that was owed to them. With the Florez cartel destroyed, the FBI put a hold on all ac
counts including those off-shore.”

  “Is this where I come in?” she asked, nervous for the answer.

  “Perhaps.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to tell her she played the leading role in this dangerous game.

  I couldn’t tell her that her daddy worked for, and was killed by, a drug cartel.

  I couldn’t tell her that she was collateral damage for everyone else’s fuck ups.

  Nina looked nervous.

  “Something wrong?” I asked, shrugging off my jacket. We had checked into a luxury hotel, one stop away from our final destination.

  “No, not at all,” she lied taking in the one and only bed in the room.

  Her response triggered my smile and I watched the blush creep down Nina’s neck to rest on her chest. I wanted to throw her on the bed and show her exactly why she should be nervous.

  “You should get some rest,” I suggested, coming to my senses. Nina’s curious eyes watched while I unhooked my utility belt.

  “You’re not Tact Force,” she began. “If you were, there’s no way you’d be allowed to be on my tail. For some reason, the FBI is distancing itself from me.”

  She truly had no idea how corrupt her co-workers were.

  She was completely in the dark about how they had implicated her.

  She was non-the-wiser about how her own team had left her stranded.

  “The last thing I believe they’d do…” she continued, “…is allow someone like yourself to cover my ass. If you work for Evan Jacobs, you’re no longer a Government employee.”

  Evan Jacobs is a lying son of a bitch.

  Like me.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, that’s so. So tell me…” she took a few steps forward, our bodies becoming almost like magnets, “…did you get suspended along with Jacobs?”

  Suspended?

  If only.

  Rounding on Nina, she instinctively moved back until she met with the wall. Placing an arm either side of my head, I trapped her in, holding her gaze.