Tijuana Nights (The Nights Series Book 1)

by Leigh K. Hunt

  Javier was smooth. He was good looking, fortyish, and for a cartel leader, he was surprisingly tender when I was around. I couldn’t imagine why he would get into the ‘business’ as he didn’t seem like that sort of person, although I knew the whole thing had to be a front.

  But it was the way he turned on Carmen as she pulled out a gun, that was the thing that had scared me the most. When she let off a shot in my direction – the same bullet that went through my phone – that was the moment he threw her across the room, as if she were as light as a ragdoll. I ran. The last thing I saw of Carmen was her crumpled form on the floor in a heap, gun at her side, while her husband had his raw, blazing-violent, eyes on me as I disappeared from the apartment. That reality was far different from the one I now faced in River’s house.

  I reached the kitchen, and rummaged through the fridge, wading through all the healthy food that River and the team loved, and pulled out the orange juice. As I was pouring the juice into my glass, I heard a scuffle. I froze. A number of things coursed through me in that one moment. One: Someone was breaking into the house. Two: Carmen had found me. Three: I needed to run and hide. And four: Contrary to everything I’d just thought, I’d best go and check it out. I deliberated for a second on my options, before hearing another noise, which jolted me into action.

  I picked up a large sandstone sculpture from the shelf near the door and tiptoed out of the kitchen, and down the dark hallway. I never realised just how squeaky some of River’s floor boards were until I was trying to be quiet. I winced every time I stood on one, thinking someone would hear me. Then I started worrying that someone would hear my breath as I crept through the dark, so I held it as best I could.

  I heard a grunt and a groan, and my head turned sharply towards the noise. It was coming from behind one of the many doorways that led off the passage. I crossed the hall, and leaned my ear to the door. There was another jarring thump, and I sprang back, readying my soapstone sculpture.

  Something came over me, and I knew that I had to step through that door as opposed to hiding. Every hair on my body was standing on end as I reached for the door-handle. I leapt through the doorway, and froze. The room was flooded with light, and River had Gabe firmly on his back on a gymnasium floor. River's eyes cut to mine, and then to the sculpture in my hand. He started laughing.

  I could see my reflection in the mirrors lining the room, and suddenly I saw what River saw. I looked like a right fool standing there, hair dishevelled, panting from holding my breath, with a wild look in my eye, and to top it all off - in my pyjamas - readying myself for a fight with only a sculpture as my weapon. A giggle escaped me, and before I knew it, Gabe began laughing too.

  "You all right there, Mack?" Gabe coughed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

  I shrugged as River said, "Ghost hunting, more like it." I shrugged again, and put the sculpture down on the floor beside the door. "Actually, Mack," he added, "you did pick a good weapon. That thing would totally knock someone out if you got your aim right."

  Gabe nodded. "Yep. Head crushing even." Then he burst out laughing again, but I ignored him.

  "What the hell are you two up to anyway? Isn’t it too early for this sort of thing?"

  River shook his head. “It’s dawn.” He released Gabriel from his hold on the floor, and pointed up at the high windows. He was right. The sky was pink from the approaching dawn. “We train most mornings starting at six. You’re more than welcome to join us if you want to. God knows you need it.”

  I couldn't argue there, but gave him a pointed glare anyway.

  "Think of it this way, Mack," Gabe started as he got up and stretched. "If you're prepared for a bitch fight now, then you won't hesitate as much when it comes to engaging with Carmen."

  Carmen. It all came back to her, didn't it? I sighed. They had a point. As always.

  I crossed the room towards them, and put my hands on my hips. "Okay. You've convinced me. When do we start then?"

  River smiled coyly at me. "Right now." And with that, he dropped into a crouch, and swept my legs out from under me with one quick sweep of his foot.

  I landed hard on the mat, and felt all of my breath escape me. I was sharply reminded that I had a bit of a hangover, and this was definitely not one of my brightest decisions.

  "Lesson number one: Keep moving. If you stand still you're going to get taken out."

  "Noted. Keep moving."

  River helped me up, and brushed some imaginary dust off my shoulder. "Lesson number two: Hand to hand fighting is dirty. Some people thrive on it, others use weapons. But always keep moving, and learn to get down and dirty too."

  “Well, if you two are going to be training this morning, I’m going to shower, and check what Chase is up to.” Gabe smiled at me and winked. “Best of luck.”

  Oh boy.

  * * *

  When I hobbled into the kitchen a couple of hours later, I felt bruised, battered, yet somehow invigorated. The hangover seemed like a distant memory, and I was buzzed. River had put a set of boxing mitts on my hands, and had me sparring with him, and forcing me to do all sorts of unsightly things like crunches, press-ups, and stretches.

  I had never really been fanatical about exercise, but I could now understand the thrill behind it. Right now, I felt relaxed and focused, and I was starving. Gabe was sitting at the dining table with a hot cup of coffee and his headphones on as he stared intently at his laptop screen. I walked up behind him, and lightly placed my hand on his shoulder. He jumped about a million miles into the air, and ripped his headphones off.

  “Jesus Christ,” he snapped as he glared at me. “You gave me a hell of a fright.” He patted the seat next to him. “But now that you’re here, sit. I have something to show you.” He handed me the headphones, fiddled with the computer mouse for a second, and moved the laptop to in front of me. “Watch.” He pressed play on a video.

  I raised my eyebrows in question when I saw the clip was of a beauty pageant. “What the hell, Gabe?”

  “Watch.” He grinned as he disappeared into the kitchen. I turned my focus back to the screen, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. It was footage of Carmen Amaro, back when she was about eighteen. Well… Carmen Quintero, as displayed on the screen. The name Quintero was familiar, but I had no idea where from.

  ‘And what’s one thing you would like to do with your life, Carmen?’

  I snorted. The questions they asked were ridiculous, but I continued watching, thanking Gabe as he passed me a freshly made cup of coffee.

  She paused before she answered and smiled shyly at the audience. ‘I would like to study medicine and work in countries that need medical assistance.’

  I practically spat out the coffee I had just taken a sip of. “Medicine?” I muttered, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Gabe smiled. “Keep watching.”

  ‘And what draws you to that profession?’

  ‘I want to help people in need. There is so much suffering out there… I feel that I could contribute a lot to helping those who can’t help themselves.’ She sighed, ‘I think being a doctor is a very noble profession.’ When she finished her sentence, she smiled brightly at the host. ‘It may not achieve the ultimate outcome of world peace, but it will certainly contribute to peace in some people’s lives.’

  I snorted with mirth and pressed pause on the clip. “Is this for real?” I asked Gabe.

  He grinned. “One hundred percent. You know…some people believe that was her winning statement – about not achieving world peace, but helping people with their peace.”

  I shook my head in disbelief and looked back at the frozen image on the screen. The girl in the video clip seemed so young and innocent and nice. I was having a hard time comparing her to the same woman who blew up a freaking plane all because I was supposed to be on it.

  'So tell me, Carmen,' the host continued. 'What is your definition of success?'

  She looked thoughtful for a moment as she considered the questio
n. 'A job well done," she answered smiling. 'I'm one of those people that when I set my mind to doing something, I like to make sure it's done properly and done well.'

  My smirk froze on my features. This was some serious insight into the woman that was hunting me - unless all of this pageant rubbish was bullshit. A job well done... At the moment, I was just a job to her. And she was willing to pay through the teeth to kill me.

  'Who or what inspires you the most, Carmen?'

  'Mother Teresa. She is a truly selfless soul who helps all those that she can. One day, should I ever reach the same level of achievement as her, I would like to be recognised for it just as she has been. She is an inspiration to all of the women of this world in terms of strength, dedication, and love.'

  Mother Teresa, I snorted. But then as I contained myself I thought about what else she'd said. A woman of strength, dedication, and love. If Carmen was anything, I guess I had to admit that she had all of those qualities ingrained in her. Love for Javier, strength... well, maybe just strength. Strength to be a cartel wife, perhaps? And dedication? I wasn't sure about that one, but she was certainly dedicated to killing me, so I guess she had that too. As for being recognised and likened to Mother Teresa - well... I doubt that would ever happen.

  The YouTube clip ended with a load of audience clapping and the host thanking Carmen for 'the lovely social chat'. Social, my ass.

  I took the headphones off, and turned to Gabe. "She really knows how to turn it on, doesn't she?"

  Gabe laughed as he slid the laptop back to him. "That she does. She won that pageant, and within weeks, she married Javier Amaro. Didn't take her long to become a cartel mother, that's for sure."

  I blew out the breath I was holding. "But she must have been so young."

  Gabe nodded and slurped on his coffee. "She was. I think she was eighteen when they married. Javier was second in command of the El Diablo Cartel back then, and twelve years older than her. Not too much of an age gap, but Carmen must have seen something in him. Or... he offered her the world."

  My mind thought to the millions of horribly ugly men out there with trophy wives, and I shuddered. At least Javier wasn’t one of those men – she’d done well in that department. I drained the rest of my coffee, and sat in comfortable silence at the table with my head relaxed on my arms as Gabe typed away on his computer. Then he let out a low whistle that caught my attention.

  "What?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "I don't know if you want to know, actually."

  Immediately I was curious. He yelled out to River, who came to the dining table moments later.

  "What's up?"

  "Take a look at this," Gabe said as he turned the screen towards River. River bent down to read the screen more closely, and then he straightened as his eyes cut directly to mine. I got that damn awful sinking feeling of dread again, the same feeling I got when he found out that Carmen was hunting me.

  "What?" I said, but it came out more like a hoarse whisper.

  He shook his head, sighed, and turned the screen to face me. It was the headline that really caught my attention: Twelve Caucasian Women Decapitated in Tijuana - and Counting.

  My hand flew to my mouth, bile instantly rising to greet my throat. "Oh my god," I whispered. I looked up at River, who was staring out of the window behind me. "They're just killing anyone, aren't they?"

  River shook his head. "No. They're not. Gabe, pull up the police files on the dead women." Gabe started typing away again on his laptop, and River turned to me. "I guess we'll find out shortly, but I think Carmen and whoever else saw you with Javier has probably put out Rachel White's profile to their contacts. There is a hell of a lot of money banking on your beheading, Mack. A lot of people are going to die in the process."

  "Got it," Gabe said a few moments later. He blew out another whistle, and turned the laptop around. I was completely mesmerised by the group of images on the screen. The women varied in their ages, but they did have two similarities. They all had long blonde hair and blue eyes. My hands ran through my own hair, and I winced. As part of the job, both Chase and River had convinced me to cut off my long hair to a close crop, in order to make wearing wigs and disguises easier. I always wore a long blonde wig whenever I was with Javier, as Gabe said from Javier's internet surfing history, being a blonde would be most attractive to him.

  I felt sick. I had to make sure I kept a wig on at all times from now on, and not a blonde one. Bile was no longer just starting to rise to my mouth; I could now taste the coffee I had just swallowed, mixed with stomach acid. My jaw stiffened, and my mouth started watering. I was going to be sick. I leapt up from the table, hand over mouth, and ran to the bathroom. I collapsed at the toilet, stuck my head over the rim, and heaved.

  When I finished throwing up, I leaned back to rest my head on the edge of the bath. Tears streamed down my face as I thought about all those innocent women caught up in the middle of this. They all had lives, people who loved them, had their own families. Now because of me, they were dead.

  This was a mess.

  River knocked on the bathroom door, and let himself in. He paused when he saw me sitting on the floor, and then made his way over and sat down beside me. "It's not your fault," he said quietly. "This is Carmen's doing. Had she said something like 'bring her alive so I can confirm' then they wouldn't be dead. But she didn’t, she said 'bring me her head'. Carmen is a ruthless killer, Mack, never forget that. The Cartel do not care about human life. Humans are a means to an end, and they will use people however they see fit until they are no longer useful."

  I sniffed, and wiped the tears away from my eyes with the palms of my hands. "But they all died because of me." My breathing was erratic from crying, and I tried to steady it. "They died because I didn't."

  6

  After River coerced me out of the bathroom, I decided that I needed to get extremely clued up as to what the El Diablo Cartel was really about, and who they were, starting with Alicio Mendoza. Gabe had pulled up all sorts of information for me, and I sat on the couch with River’s iPad, scanning through it.

  I knew that those in the cartels were bad news, but I never really understood just how bad they were until all those women were beheaded because they looked like me.

  They were hunting me out, and just the thought of it made me shiver.

  River said that border control would probably start turning away women coming into Mexico if they resembled 'Rachel White', for their own protection. And then he told me that the El Diablo Cartel also basically owned the police and border security anyway. I'd figured that if they had an ulterior motive, it was to stop flooding the area with blue-eyed blondes, and narrow the killing field down.

  I pushed my thoughts back to Alicio's profile photo. Alicio was dark, greasy looking, and very close to balding. He had bad taste in clothing, and if I didn’t know any better, judging by the shiny sweat-sheen in his photos, he had a bad body odour problem. Photos of his three children, all young, and clutching at their mother’s skirts, came up on the screen. I peered at the mother, Alicio’s wife, more closely. She was a gentle looking woman, but there was something sad and forlorn in her dark eyes. I couldn't imagine what on earth would have possessed her to marry a man like Alicio.

  I opened up some of the files, and found legal documents about his wife trying to leave him under the premise of rape and abuse. My mouth went dry as an amateur shot video shot through a grimy window opened up of a brightly lit kitchen. My eyes were riveted to the screen as the sound of crackly cries came through the speakers. I swallowed hard. The wife ran into the kitchen, closely followed by Alicio. She stumbled, just about whacking her head on the counter, but managed to miss. Alicio shouted in muffled Spanish at her. I watched as he lifted his sobbing wife from the floor, and backhanded her across the face. She hit the bench facedown with a thud. Disbelief and anger ripped through me. I felt bile begin to rise from my stomach and into my throat. And even more so when I realised what he was going to do. He lifted
her skirts, and rammed himself into her.

  I stopped the video, bile reaching to mouth, and I took a deep breath to help swallow it down. Tears were streaming down my face. I looked around River’s living room, bathed in warm sunlight, tried to centre myself. I couldn’t watch any more. He was a diabolical and evil man. I sniffed, and wiped my tears away, pleased that I had never suffered anything like that. My heart went out to his wife. I hoped that she wasn’t in the crossfire when it came to the point of Alicio’s demise.

  More video footage was sitting in the folder, but I hesitated to open it. I swallowed the awful taste in my mouth, and opened another one. This was shot inside some sort of caged area. Looking at it closer, I could see people inside the cages. “Oh no,” I murmured. Alicio came on screen, talking to the camera. He walked over to one of the cage doors, opened it up, and ripped a blonde teenage girl out through the cage door. She was white with fear, and whispering her pleas. Some of the words met my ears, and I could tell she was American. I skipped the video a bit, and saw the horrific images of the girl unconscious and her face covered in blood, lying on a concrete floor. Anger flared in me. I skipped forward a bit again, and found the images of Alicio raping her.

  I stopped the video, shocked.

  In Gabe’s notes, he’d written that most of the time the hostages don't escape with their lives, but that they were held so that their other family member would do their bidding, whether they were scientists, traffickers, or the like. Gabe’s notes also showed that the drug industry was a lot bigger than I had ever imagined. They explored every means possible to export their product into the US, and also to other countries if they could. The US was their biggest market though. I swallowed thinking of all the drugs on the streets there, addicting and influencing young minds.