Killing Mary Jane: A Dark Romantic Thriller

by Amarie Avant

  “Get the letter,” Robertson ordered.

  “I am.” Wulf continued down the hall, mentally counting down the moment until the alarm would go off. He went into his home office, picked up a Dodgers’ baseball cap from the back of the chair and opened the French doors. He paced the length of the backyard and prayed his neighbors didn’t have Dolly out—their Pit bull. Wulf was over the wall and running around their lap pool when the alarm whistled into the sky.

  In this neighborhood, cops would be surrounding his home by the time Samuel could circle the block. He hurried along the side of the house and unlatched the gate. Eyes narrowed, Wulf glanced down the street, searching for the best car to lift.

  50

  Wulf left the old Acura he hot-wired at a gas stop at the tip of San Diego. He’d gotten onto one of those cheap sight-seeing busses that took him into Ensenada, Mexico. From there, he’d stolen yet another car. On the long ride to Generosa, Wulf thought about how Mary Jane had transformed. The Arizona Mary Jane versus the one he grew to love in Mexico were so different. She’d become compassionate and loving. Though he’d planned on coaxing her to return when they started their lives together, Wulf determined that he could live in the world that they’d made forever.

  It was midday when he found Tito, the kid Mary Jane once paid for newspapers. He was on a street corner in Puerto Vallarta, selling traditional handcrafted toys. Since the area teemed with pedestrians, Wulf slowed down and honked. Tito glanced over from a family of four and glared. Wulf honked again.

  “Excuse me,” Wulf spoke out the window, so that the family could move along.

  Tito hopped into the front passenger seat of the car and sniggered. “Where’s the Chica? I like her. Besides, I’ve been busting my ass on the street corner since the two of you left!”

  “That’s why I’m here. Did you happen to see her leave?” Wulf drove slowly, searching for a coffee shop or somewhere else they could chat.

  Tito smirked and rubbed his hands together. “I see everything.”

  Wulf pulled out his wallet. He didn’t have much cash to give the little shit. He handed over two twenties. “Tell me what you know, and I need a phone.”

  The boy crossed his arms, considering the deal.

  “I need a smartphone, and don’t act like you aren’t sure what one is. You’ve been lifting off the tourists since you could walk.”

  “I’ve been lifting off tourists since I was in my Mama’s belly.” He pocketed the money. “Oh, before I forget, when I was blindsided by you leaving without a goodbye, I had grabbed your mail with the newspaper. I have a letter from Mary Jane’s friend back at my home. Regardless of how rude you two were for not saying goodbye, I knew how happy MJ was when I’d bring by her letters. I’d hoped she might come back.”

  “Okay.” Wulf nodded, aware Glenn had sent her yet another letter. “We’ll get it from you later. Tell me about the people she left with.”

  “So, the guy’s name is Canelo and the woman is Soledad…fool, are you stupid? Soledad!”

  “Don’t know of them.”

  “The first lady of El Toro cartel. Well, one of Hector’s favorite putas.”

  “El Toro cartel?” Wulf hid his concern as he bit his lip though repeating the words. He remembered some of what he knew back on the force about the El Toro cartel. Gruesome grisly murders, cocaine kings, paid-off Mexican officials… Wulf held in a sigh. “Okay, what happened on the day she went with them?”

  “One of your neighbors said they came into the house. She grabbed her luggage, and she left with them.”

  “Who’s the neighbor?”

  “I can’t tell.”

  “Tito, I don’t have time to run around asking everyone that lived nearby,” Wulf gritted out.

  “And I’m telling you that I cannot tell! I mentioned El Toro cartel; you need to be glad I got that information out of the person. Since you two had so much money, at the beginning, I assumed you were rich, bad people like them.”

  Wulf’s chest deflated. “Did Mary Jane appear to be upset?”

  Tito put up a hand. “She was okay, I guess.”

  Wulf continued on a street that headed west to the coastline. He told himself to just focus on finding Mary Jane and concentrate on the promise he made to her father.

  51

  Two Days Later

  Mary Jane tugged and tugged at the sheets until they shredded apart. The latest nightmare roamed through her mind and she couldn’t see another way out. Peter had tormented her night and day. Premonitions of her horrible past with him tormented her while awake.

  Night terrors that broke her heart in half when she slept.

  Seated on the mattress, she started knotting them together. This was her way out, she determined as she looped one side of the homemade rope over the wrought iron light fixture. Canelo still refused to tell her why he’d abducted her. And ending her torture of an existence was the only solution.

  Canelo and Soledad would lose.

  Now, she pondered the same depressing thought she had while Beasley’s patrons leered at her: Why live?

  She pushed the bedpost over until it was almost level with the Spanish wrought iron light fixture then looped the rope around her neck.

  No regrets, she sighed to herself, while stepping one foot off the edge of the bed. The pressure on her throat so unbearable that she almost considered pulling back, but she fixated on sorrow.

  “Peter, please, you’re making a mistake. I just wanted to show you the miscalculated computations is all,” Mallory said, as he came into the basement of his mansion. She’d said the same line over and over for three days, maybe four. Time seemed to merge together. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I’m getting married in a few weeks. I am in love…I won’t tell…”

  “No, you won’t tell,” he said, opening a small pill bottle. He held out the red capsule to her. The time she took it before, her brain hurt so badly.

  “Please.” She pulled at the chain around her leg.

  “Don’t worry, Mal. I won’t hurt you any more than I already have.” His hand went out to her, but she tried to lunge at him. Peter pulled back. “The computations that you went over are for a brain processing program that I have. They’re not for a facial product. Thus, the reason why the stats didn’t add up. There’d be no lawsuits for skin cancer, because this process only takes a few weeks. Not long enough for those extreme UV rays to have such a dire effect. I’ve worked the math and gotten my system to fix a person’s cognition within a month. So my current test subjects are safe.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You are so beautiful, Mal.” He rubbed a hand over her cheek. “I told myself not to get married again after my first wife took me for half. Nobody knows it. Albeit, she literally gets half of my money from my work that has nothing to do with Grienke Laboratory. That’s where the real money is, sweetheart.”

  Mallory’s face blurred in confusion. Peter’s ramblings made no sense.

  “It’s all right, Mal. I understand that you’re confused. We’ll have a lifetime to get it right. But let’s say I offer a service for the wealthy, using the very compound you tried to compute. Do you know Senator Riley?”

  She knew of the man whose political campaign just skyrocketed after a speech about his wife dying in a fire.

  “Whitley Rodgers was baking a cake for her dear husband while he boarded a plane from D.C…but that’s a lie. His wife is living in Arizona, without her inheritance of course, because the good senator needs it for when he runs for presidency. Money is required for those types of things.”

  “You’re crazy!”

  Peter’s words made no sense. Whitley Rodgers died a horrible death. Half the state mourned the rich woman’s death, because Whitley had been an advocate and not just a silent force at the senator’s side.

  “Don’t worry, Mal, I would not condemn you to the same lifestyle as Mrs. Rodgers. You’re too beautiful for a place like that.”

  She stopped liste
ning as he told her a story of chemical neuron blockers. Peter was mad! He seemed as if he knew how to erase memories and present new ones. Her eyes grew brighter. “But…But…I’m, I’m pregnant,” Mallory whimpered. She’d been so moody as of recent. Arguments with Dad escalating. Arguments with Keegan too. All because he wanted her to quit the internship. She’d finished the hours, their wedding had the possibility to be “quaint” instead of more extravagant. Honestly, she only wanted to invite so many guests just to goad her dad, which meant she spent more time at Grienke’s making money. Now…“Peter, please, Keegan and I are getting married soon. We’re having a bay-baby,” she sobbed.

  With that, Peter’s anger sparked. “That, my dear, can be taken care of!”

  Peter didn’t want children. The “Mallory” who became his wife was meant to believe that her womb could bear no fruit. Mary Jane’s eyes popped open. She attempted to push her fingers through the rope around her neck.

  What if I’m pregnant? With her memory slowly returning, she recalled the tiny pill Peter gave her every day.

  Her eyes brightened to the dark of the night. She’d thrown up a few times after being abducted, but thought it was nerves. The way Mary Jane had suddenly decided she wanted pickles, and Wulf went searching high and low for them a few weeks back. All the mushy talk with Amy added up. Mary Jane tried to scream, but the confinement around her throat didn’t allow it. Slowly, a deep need to sleep took over.

  52

  Canelo’s eyes bugged as he took in Mary Jane’s ashen skin. Truth be told, the light that shone behind her brown eyes had waned long ago. But he hadn’t expected it to come to this. He’d been the same way the days following the horror of watching his entire family burn to death. He knew that the only thing left was hopelessness. He went to her body and lifted her up, arms around her hips, quickly pulling the rope from around her neck.

  Canelo placed her on the bed and closed his eyes quickly to the tears beginning to burn. He then snatched the rope, mumbling profanity as he shoved it into the wastebasket. He turned back to the beautiful creature before him. Telling the story of his nightmares wasn’t meant to leave her feeling hopeless. He didn’t expect her to attempt suicide. An urge compelled him to grant her some type of sympathy. But to cross Soledad. Even more worse, to cross Hector.

  Slowly, his hand went to her forehead. Canelo gingerly brushed the strands away from Mary Jane’s face. He sat at the head of the bed. Laying her head in his lap, he leaned back against the headboard as he serenaded the woman with a song his mother had once soothed him with. The Mexican melody wove through a cracked voice, sending tears streaming down his puffy pocked cheeks. After a few minutes he stopped. His head fell back, and he took a deep breath while still rubbing Mary Jane’s hair.

  Eyes closed, Mary Jane gulped a few times. The tenderness of her throat made the job uncomfortable but being parched and bruised, she continued to gulp. Mary Jane kept very still as Canelo sang a melody. Her heart hardened as his heart bled for hers. The hate, the self-preservation she once thrived on while determining her identity began to stir within her abdomen.

  What about my baby?

  She felt her heart tremor within her chest. She almost killed herself and her unborn child. If her premonition of the past with Peter was correct, her husband had fed her birth control pills, while calling them “anxiety” meds during their time together to ensure she wouldn’t become pregnant. She had to believe it was true, though it didn’t make sense, given that he brainwashed her over more important matters.

  Mary Jane set her thoughts aside, baby or not, blood veiled over her eyes. The death of Soledad and Canelo were inevitable. As if on cue, the man softly removed her head from his lap and got up. Still pretending to be unconscious, she felt his warm, callused hand go to her neck.

  When he walked out of the room, she allowed sleep to claim her. She needed time to recuperate. She’d dream about the self-defense skills her father taught her and the lack of emotion she’d been gifted with while being brainwashed. The character, Agent Anya Randolph, had instilled in her a need to survive, and Mary Jane would survive.

  Wulf was gone. Either he wasn’t aware that she was taken, or heck, he had returned to live his life. She did not need him. This time around, Mary Jane would save herself. And her baby. Fuck everyone else.

  It was late in the evening when Canelo entered the bedroom with beans and rice. He pulled a spoon from his back pocket, took a big scoop, and ate. Noticing Mary Jane’s interest in the food, he set the plate on the bed along with another spoon.

  “And the water.” She nudged her chin.

  He grumbled before holding the cup a few inches above his mouth, he gulped it down. “No drugs.”

  Canelo gave her a look of remorse, left the room, closing the door behind him.

  While eating, Mary Jane concentrated on the fact that she hadn’t heard the lock click. Gulping down the food in her mouth, she rose from her bed and took off her tennis shoes then walked over to the door. It wasn’t locked.

  Her thoughts rocketed. Is this a trick? He’s always locked me in. She stepped outside of the room to an arch-shaped hallway, the dim sun shone through the dark-wood framed windows on the left side of the hallway. There’d be no sneaking through a window. Besides, these two deserved to die. Even after Canelo saved her life. In doing so, he’d only condemned her to another hell. She still didn’t know their intentions, but whatever they had in mind, death had to be more pleasing.

  Mary Jane slipped down the stairs, ears perked, certain that such a large villa would be teeming with house staff.

  A vase of wildflowers was on an accent table in the foyer. She turned and walked down another set of stairs and a hallway even longer than the one above. Passing by a cream-colored living room, Mary Jane’s feet padded soundlessly against the clay tile. She stopped when the hallway turned into a sunroom of sorts. The entire area was encased with glass, and she could see Soledad swimming in a turquoise oasis outside.

  With mermaid like skills, she glided back and forth. The greedy woman craved attention as she showed off to Canelo who sat on a patio chair near the door, his back to Mary Jane. His head down as if he were busy, Mary Jane inched along, fully exposed to see that he was fiddling with his cell phone.

  “Canelo!” Soledad’s tantalizing voice echoed through the open sliding glass door.

  Mary Jane’s eyes narrowed. The way Soledad spoke, they didn’t appear to be a couple.

  “What?” Canelo barked.

  “I need it,” she pleaded.

  “Hector will be home tonight!”

  “So!” Soledad snapped. Her body lunged up out of the water and onto a seated area in the pool. She leaned over the pool’s edge, folding her arms, staring at the man who gave her no attention. Mary Jane’s body shook in sheer repulsion.

  “Come here, Canelo,” Soledad implored.

  “What are we going to do with the girl?” he asked.

  “Offer her to Hector. I’ve said it a thousand times.”

  “But she’s not Lalina!”

  “How do you know she’s not our enemy’s daughter?” Soledad had a playful grin on her face.

  “This woman just isn’t her. I can feel it.” Canelo scoffed. Mary Jane listened intently.

  “The bitch is playing you, so, who cares?” Soledad’s finger trailed in a figure eight, skimming the surface of water. “Canelo, listen to me, honey. Her father, Escobar, is fucking with our U.S. boarders. The Colombians have always claimed more airways, but we have our mules.”

  Mary Jane listened to bits and pieces of Soledad’s argument since the wind carried her words.

  “Sales have decreased in all the cities bordering Mexico,” Canelo said. “We both know that, Soledad. None of those fucking Colombianos are fessing up to trying to seize El Toro’s passageways. I’ve told Hector that they’re putting much of the blame on the Puerto Ricans.”

  “So what? You could be right.” Soledad shrugged. “But the head honchos of a Colombian c
artel are hiding in Cuba. One of those damned Colombian underdogs is helping Escobar, Lalina’s father. So we need her!”

  “We don’t need her. Escobar is disgusting. He isn’t even a real threat! He’s a politician playing a game,” Canelo scoffed. “Five years ago, that cabron siphoned money from outreach programs in his homeland.”

  She shook her head at him. “Doing so, he made enough money to play poker with the Colombianos, Canelo! Escobar wanted in. He got it. Since we can’t get to the Colombians, we will teach that hijo de puta what it means to be in the business.”

  Mary Jane fumed at that. Canelo defended her when he shouted, “She isn’t Lalina!”

  “If we can scare Escobar with the death of his daughter, then he will surely know that we mean business. We know how much you like to be the good lil’ dog for Hector. I’ll say this was your plan.”

  Canelo took a deep breath as she got out of the pool and sauntered over to him.

  Soledad straddled him, water dripping off her skin. “Hector will be so happy with you,” she purred in his ear.

  Mary Jane put her ear to the glass door, as Soledad’s voice became softer.

  “And if he finds out that this woman is not her?” Canelo asked as his hand snaked around Soledad’s neck.

  “If he does?” Her voice quivered with each word. But Soledad’s eyes sparkled as she reveled in the tightening of his hand on her neck.

  Mary Jane’s eyebrows rose together as she heard feminine laughter. When Canelo yanked Soledad’s head back and kissed her harshly along the jaw line, Mary Jane saw the crazy woman’s grin of satisfaction. His large hands seemed abrasive from Mary Jane’s line of view as he tore the string from Soledad’s shoulder. Disgusted by their barbaric display, Mary Jane walked away. Even when she and Wulf played dirty, it was never like this.