by Ammar Habib
If there was ever a moment I have felt like committing suicide, this is it.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. People who do this—people who say things to their parents like I just said to my mom are the kind of people that burn in Hell. Those are the kinds of people that deserve nothing but misery and pain… and I’ve become one of them.
What did I just do?
Chapter 12
One Shot
Unlike every other dealer I’ve met, Vinny the Rat shows up on time. It almost throws me off. I’m sitting in my parked car in the deserted lot when his dirty golden Lexus pulls up exactly at the strike of two. Driving his car straight at my Dodge Avenger, it’s as if he’s aiming for a head-on collision. But I don’t budge, and his Lexus arrives to a screeching halt only a few feet away from my car’s hood.
Jaw clenched, I push the image of my mama’s pain-filled eyes out of my mind. This is really happening. It’s not a dream or a nightmare. It’s life.
There is a long and awkward moment as the two of us don’t move. I stare into his eyes through the two windshields as he looks back with one hand hidden and one on the steering wheel. He hasn’t even tried to disguise himself since his prison break. He looks exactly like his mug shot, even down to his shaved head. But the look of his brown eyes—that merciless gaze of his—is a hundred times worse in person than it was in my dreams.
He can’t see, but my foot is anxiously tapping on the floor while my face remains expressionless. If I didn’t have such good self-control, I would be hyperventilating. With my best effort, I block out everything else. I stop my nervous foot. Right now, I’m not Ana Rocha. I’m somebody else entirely. I’m Victoria. I’m a dealer who is here for business and is packing a concealed Glock.
Maintain control. No matter what, you are in charge here and you’re the one calling the shots. Keep the mental edge and he’s yours.
Vinny keeps a stoic expression as he searches for any hint on my face. No doubt, his concealed hand is holding a gun right now. He’s sizing me up. I keep both my hands on my steering wheel, trying to indicate that I’m no danger to him. I know he won’t hesitate to shoot me right here and now before we’ve even spoken a word if he suspects anything. What he’s doing right now is making sure I understand that.
But he’s not the only one here who’s a threat.
He slowly gets out of his car but keeps his eyes on me. Underneath his rugged jeans and fitted shirt, he’s a well-built man. It’s easy to see how it would have taken three officers to bring him down. Even though he has at least twenty years on me, he’s strong enough to strike fear into the heart of any man.
No mistakes, Ana. You can’t afford those today. Let’s do this.
I exit my Avenger and we close our doors almost simultaneously, neither one breaking gaze from the other. The air around us is about to crack. The hot sun beats down on me. But most of my sweat isn’t because of the heat. I don’t show any fear and I maintain full control of my expressions and body, making me radiate with poise. But my heart is racing as adrenaline pumps through my veins.
“You got a gun?” His voice is just like I imagined: powerful, cold, and calculating. It’s not full of slang like all the other dealers I’ve come across. It’s refined in its own way, reminiscent of a high-class criminal.
I slightly nod.
“Get rid of it.”
My gaze still aimed at his face, I reach back and produce my Glock in a nonthreatening way. I masterfully pop out the clip before slowly placing it and the pistol on the top of my car. I keep our eyes locked the whole time.
Vinny doesn’t grow any less suspicious, keeping his hand close to his concealed weapon. “Charlie says you’re serious news.”
“I am.”
“Your name’s Vanessa?”
Nice try there. “Victoria.”
“And why the hell should I work with you?”
“You already know that.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
I know why. He wants to see if I’m lying. Too bad for him, I’m an expert at that now. Mama became a victim of that not even—crap. Don’t think about that right now, Ana. “Because I’ll make you rich—much richer than you are now. You and your ‘queen’.”
He stays silent.
“We all know Pearland is going to boom in the next ten years. I’ve already got the things in place to get first dibs on a lot of the property. And if you work with me, my places are your places. I’ll supply the customers. You supply the goods. Five years from now, you’ll have tens of thousands of new customers at minimum. Tens of thousands. How much will your queen reward you for that?”
If my words have any effect on him, he’s not showing it. He’s got a good poker face. Silence falls over the two of us, each moment only adding another layer to the suspense. Finally, he replies. “If you’re so serious, then how come you’re new news to me?”
“Just got here from Dallas. Worked as a middleman for the Blue Ox. But then I got talking to Ant and—”
“Who?”
“Antonio Juarez. Arms dealer in Cypress.”
“Never heard of him,” Vinny replies.
“Then you’re not in the right circles.”
“I know all the right circles.”
Liar. There’s a long silence as he glares right at my face. I know what you’re trying, punk. And you can’t read me. I won’t let you.
His voice changes. It becomes sadistic—the kind of tone you would expect from a torturer like him. “If your screwing with me, I’ll gut you like a pig right here.” He takes a small step closer to me. “And if you’re a cop… then by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be cursing your mother for bringing you into this world.”
Don’t back down, Ana. Show him who is in charge here.
I step up as well, leaving only a few feet between us. I can smell his breath from here. “If I was here to arrest or kill your ass, you’d already be down for the count. But I’m here for business. My boy Ant got me in touch with your boy Charlie. Charlie says you’re a serious man. Said you were smart enough to jump on a good deal when you saw one. But maybe he was talking about somebody else, and maybe I should be talking to some other lieutenant of Queen Bee’s. Because the male I’m staring at right now looks too stupid to know a good thing if it hit him in the face.”
I pause for a moment before continuing.
“I think I know why you’re no longer her favorite. There was a time she took you everywhere, but now you’re nothing more than a has-been—nothing more than some punk whose best days are behind him. And this—this might be your best shot at redemption.”
Standing this close to him, I finally realize just how big this man is. He could crush a person’s skull with just one of his bare hands. But I don’t let his size faze me one bit. Size is the last thing that matters in a standoff.
“So what’ll it be, Vinny the Rat?”
Just as those words leave my mouth, fear suddenly grips my heart. I’ve pushed him too far. This is it—this is it. He’s about to draw his gun or come at me right here and now.
No… no, he’s not. He doesn’t do a thing except briefly glance away for the first time. Did I get him?
He finally breaks the silence. “What do you want?”
Bingo. “Your stash house. I want to see it.”
“We don’t do that on the first meeting.”
“You do when the score is as big as we’re talking about.”
“We have our ways.”
“Listen. Before we talk about anything else, I need to make sure that your product is as good as people claim. Either we go to the stash house or this deal is over.”
There’s a quick flash in his eyes. Now I’ve pushed him too far. I was stupid for thinking he’d go along with this. He’s too smart. It’s all about to go to hell.
No… wait. He’s going for it. Is this really happening? Vinny takes a slow step back, showing no signs of aggression. “Get in my car. Leave your gun.”
I’m
in.
***
Holy—what am I doing? This has to be a dream. It has to…
I’m in the car with Vinny the Rat. I’m sitting next to a cold-blooded murderer who should be on death row. I’ve been matching him move-for-move in this mental chess game so far. A year ago, this would have been a nightmare. Now, it’s reality.
But this is not the time for rejoicing. This mission just went from dangerous to deadly. At these close quarters, he holds almost every advantage if things go south. It’ll be all about strength, and he has the edge in that by far.
Closing the door I keep my head facing forward but watch his every move. Does it really smell so fresh in here? The whole vehicle is impeccable. Definitely not what I imagined it would be. Stay focused, Ana. I don’t wear my seatbelt—it’ll only limit my movements. He does the same, but that’s normal for any dealer. He switches on the ignition and the car turns on smoothly. He keeps his closer hand on the wheel while the further one stays at his side.
I try to maintain the confidence in my voice. “Where’s the stash house?”
“You’ll see.”
The car backs up before turning to head towards the parking lot’s exit. It travels somewhat quickly across the uneven gravel. No matter how badly my mind wants me to look at Vinny to watch for any hint of ill-intentions, I only observe him through my peripheral vision. I’ve come too far to screw up now.
Breath, Ana. Stay calm. You’ve got this punk. What does mama always say? Dang it, Ana! Don’t think about that right now.
Is Bryan seeing all this? I’m sure if it was a set-up, he would know by now and have intervened. What—what if he was taken out by one of Vinny’s men? No… no, Bryan’s too good for that. Just breathe, stay calm, and—
All my thoughts abruptly disappear.
I suddenly lurch forward as the car screeches to a sudden halt. I barely stop my head from violently hitting the dashboard. My heart stops as I realize Vinny’s foot is slamming down on the brake. And in the next instant, something is coming for me. A knife. Vinny’s knife. I can’t think fast enough, but my instincts take over. I instantly move as far as I can from him. My back presses against the side door. His blade drives straight for my throat. For a moment, I see my death. But when the knife’s blade is only an inch away, my open palm smashes into his wrist, diverting the knife from tearing open my trachea. Instead, it plunges into the seat.
His opposite fist powerfully slams into my face. The back of my skull violently crashes against the window, leaving a crack. For a moment, I can’t think and I can’t see. The hair on the back of my head grows wet. A small stream of blood pours out of the back of my skull. And when my vision and senses return, Vinny’s open palm is pressed against my face. It’s crushing my skull. He’s suffocating me as the back of my head stays pinned against the window. My eyes are wide. Through the crack between his fingers, I see his free hand pull his knife out from of the seat.
I—I can’t breathe! My movements grow desperate. I try to knock his hand away. It does nothing. I try to break free of his grasp. I can’t. He’s killing me! God, he’s killing me!
With all my strength, I can’t escape. I can’t get any relief. He crushes down on my skull harder with every passing moment. It starts to go black. I start to lose my vision for the final time. Is this what dying feels like? Is this what Angela felt? I can’t breathe… I can’t… I…
No, Ana!
You won’t die here! Not like this to some murderous punk! Victoria might, but not Ana Rocha.
My free hand grabs hold of my second concealed pistol from the back of my jeans. Without hesitating, I reveal it. I don’t think—I can’t afford to.
Vision’s almost gone black. Body is numb. I can barely see—barely move. The gun’s barrel aims at Vinny’s chest from almost at point-blank-range. The bullet will tear through his insides like a spear. And as he sees it, he sends his knife down at me. But I sense something in him—something I never imagined Vinny the Rat was capable of: fear.
I pull the trigger.
Chapter 13
One Life
What happened? Last thing I remember, my gun’s deafening roar is blasting in my ears. It’s ringing through my head. And then my stomach is on fire. Something violently cuts through my insides. But now—in seemingly the next moment—I’m somewhere else completely. A police station… at least, that’s what it feels like. The light burns my eyes and everything’s so bright.
A shadow is standing over me. No… there are two people. Maybe three. Why is this light so bright? My head is throbbing and my brain feels ready to pop out of my skull. But at the same time, I feel so light-headed that I think I’m about to slip back into unconsciousness at any moment. My guts are sore and in pain—more pain than any cramp or stomach virus ever gave them.
“She’s waking up.”
The voice sounds familiar. But I can’t get my eyes focused on anything right now. And I can hardly even think. It almost feels like a dream, but it’s too real to be one. It’s all too much. One thing for sure: that’s not Vinny’s voice. Thank God.
Even though I can’t see a thing, my left hand travels down to my waist. Something there—just to the left of my stomach—doesn’t feel right. It feels lumpy and unnatural. And right when my hand reaches it, I know what it is: stitches. Vinny got me good.
“Is she alright?” That’s… that’s Bryan’s voice.
“She’ll live. Just a long day is all… just a long day.”
You can say that again.
***
“How are you feeling?”
When the heck did I wake up? After blacking out again, the next thing I know is that I’m sitting on a medical table in an unfamiliar room. I look straight ahead at a man dressed in a white coat. This isn’t a hospital. Instead, it looks like the insides of a police station—a large one at that. The ceiling lights above me are lit and the window blinds are open, letting in the sun’s rays. The white-coated man stares at me. I’m not sure if he’s evaluating me or just waiting for me to speak.
“…well, I’m alive.”
“That you are, officer.”
I look down at my stitches. It’s so dang sore. It feels worse than any beating I ever took in martial arts. I can’t tell if that’s from the stitching or the knife wound, but I would guess it’s the latter. I’ve been changed out of my clothes and into a fresh pair of light brown capris and a modest, cobalt tunic.
“You took a couple of nasty blows, and you were in total shock when you got here. Cut on the back of your head. Your nose was almost broken. And worst of all was your stomach’s knife wound. A few inches deeper and you may have very well bled out. But that partner of yours really knew what he was doing.”
My gaze rises back onto the doctor. “What happened?”
“After the—well incident—he pulled you out of the vehicle. He stopped the bleeding from your head, slowed down the bleeding from the knife wound, and got you here. I did the rest.”
“…thank you.”
He politely nods.
I try to shift positions, but wince when I realize how much it hurts to move. I almost ask what happened to Vinny, but stop myself. I already know the answer to that. I pulled the trigger. His black heart may very well still be sprayed all over the driver’s seat of his car.
“Are you okay?”
I snap back to reality and dismiss the image of a dead Vinny. “Where is he? Bryan?”
“I wasn’t told. But he’ll be back here soon.” He pauses for a moment. “There’s one more thing I’m supposed to tell you though. Your informant was found dead.”
My eyes widen. “Charlie?”
The doctor nods. “Nobody knows if Vinny knew from the start or not as to who you were. If he did… well, then you’re very lucky to be alive. I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you this. Please don’t blame yourself for what happened. And please don’t blame yourself for having to pull the trigger. I’m sure there’s nothing anybody could have done differentl
y.”
Don’t blame myself? Who else is there to blame? He says something else, but I don’t hear him. As the doctor turns to leave, the vision of Vinny the Rat clouds my mind once more. I see his eyes. His now dead eyes. And I remember my finger on the cold trigger. I remember that I’ve taken the life of another human being.
I’ve killed.
***
A few minutes after the doctor leaves, two uniformed officers enter the room. One is quite a bit larger than the other and there’s at least a ten-year age difference between them. The duo could easily masquerade as Batman and Robin.
From seeing the files in their hands, I know why they’re here. They both take a seat right across from me after closing the door behind them. The next few hours pass in me answering questions—many of them the same one just asked in a different way.
These men want to make sure they know everything that happened. If I’m ever called for questioning, they want to ensure that all my ducks are in a row and that there are no missing holes in my account. Reliving the entire ordeal is the last thing I want to do right now. But I go along with it. Batman and Robin switch off. One of them asks me about the events leading up to the operation and the operation itself, while the other one asks questions regarding the assault and—of course—Vinny’s death. As I answer their seemingly endless questions, they record every word of it.
However, I can’t look either of them in the eyes. They both seem understanding enough. Maybe they’ve been in my shoes before. Or maybe they can see what I’m going through. Either way, they let me take my time and don’t try to push me too far. Whenever the one asking questions about the fight feels like he’s making me think back on it too much, he passes the reins back to his counterpart. It’s nearly six in the evening by the time their questioning is finished.