The Perfect Stranger (LOS SANTOS Cartel Story #2)

by Melissa Jane

  “Exit the box and come to me.”

  She grew nervous, tongue darting over her deep red lips. No doubt these requests never ended well for her.

  “Por favor,” I added, and she frowned the slightest degree at the courtesy.

  Abiding client requests, she turned and opened a narrow door to the left. For a moment, she was out of view before emerging from the shadows. She stopped just shy of my feet and hooked her hands around my neck. Her perfume was sweet, intoxicating.

  “What would you like me to do, señor?” she purred.

  Gently clasping her wrists, I pulled them away. “I don’t need a show.”

  She stood tall, fighting the urge to be offended. “What do you want? I’m not a prostitute, I don’t give sex.”

  “I don’t want that either.”

  “Then?”

  “Can you sit?”

  Taking a step back she scanned the room, empty bar the one seat.

  “There’s a chair behind the curtain.”

  She sashayed away and returned a few moments later with the bespoke chair. She sat opposite and waited, her long red nail tapping on her knee.

  “Ana…” I started, “…forgive me if this comes across as a little strange given the place we’re in, but I’d prefer if we just talked.”

  “It is strange,” she agreed. “Most men are here to enjoy the show. But you don’t seem interested.”

  “You are very beautiful. You don’t need to remove any more clothing for me to appreciate that.” She nodded, seemingly grateful for the gesture. “How did you end up in a place like this?” As if I had slapped her hard, Ana’s eyes widened in panic.

  “Is there something—”

  She got to her feet and rushed forward, an index finger glued to her lips to silence me. Her face was only an inch away from mine, but she didn’t need to talk to tell me what was happening. Taking my hand, she led me to the glass box. Once inside, she turned, arms crossed.

  “Who are you really?” Her accent thickened in her haste.

  “Antonio Suárez. I work for Gabriel.”

  “You don’t look like you belong in this world.” Her eyes softened and her shoulders relaxed. Ana didn’t see me as a threat, and in a way, it felt like she could see my secrets without me having to reveal them.

  “People who talk in this place end up dead,” she continued, “So why are you interesting in talking?”

  I cast a cautious glance around the box looking for anything that might pose as a bug.

  “You’re safe in here.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I slid my hand around the top joins.

  “I know this box better than anyone,” she said dryly. “Out there…” she pointed to where I was sitting, “…out there is full of them.”

  Ana had no reason to pull me from the wired room. She owed me nothing.

  “What’s he looking for?” I asked almost to myself and was surprised when she answered.

  “He brings in a lot of businessmen he doesn’t trust. When they drink and are distracted by women their guard drops, and they always reveal too much. Secrets. Transgressions. Motives.”

  “Gabriel told me to me to get a lap dance.”

  “Gabriel is here?” Her fingers that had been drumming nervously on her bicep stilled, as she waited for a response.

  “Yes, he’s in the next room.”

  Ana swallowed hard. She was nervous. “Did he tell you to come in here specifically?”

  “Yes.”

  “The bastard!” she muttered, looking away.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Gabriel likes to push the boundaries.”

  “Is there a reason for concern?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Ana, I’m not sure I’m following.”

  “Gabriel knows his Uncle Luis does not share me with other employees.”

  “Not even Gabriel?”

  She shook her head, and I considered the weight of her words. It was a possibility Gabriel was setting me up. Drugs always came first to a cartel boss, but the right type of woman would follow a close second. He was a naturally suspicious man in his line of business, and putting me in wired room was just to cover his own ass.

  “You seem to very popular here. Gabriel tells me, his uncle considers you his favorite.”

  “Luis has certain… expectations.” Knowing I was one of ‘them,’ a Santos, brought down a wall.

  “I’m sure a man in his position would.”

  She nodded. “How do you know Gabriel and Luis?” she asked, trying herself to figure out if I was being thrown to the wolves.

  “Gabriel has a lot of enemies. That’s why he needs me.”

  “Are you his henchman?”

  “You could look at it like that.”

  “You kill for him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well…” she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, “…he is either very fond of you, or he is happily sinking you into a world of no return.”

  Closing the door on Ana, I stepped into the hall precisely one hour after the fact and waited for Gabriel.

  ‘Come see me again,’ she had urged before I said my farewells. She gripped my forearm, eyes sending me an array of messages.

  Stay safe.

  Be warned.

  Watch your back.

  I heeded it all knowing I was playing in a snake pit. But this to me, was a game. I would take Ana up on her offer because I needed more. I wanted to know schedules, times of the year Luis Santos frequented the club, information on his residences, and why the fucker was so hard to track that not even his nephew knew where he was.

  “She show you a good time?” Gabriel's eyes glistened with humor while he tucked his shirt into his pants.

  “You were right, she was exactly what I needed.”

  “Well, don’t get too close. If my uncle finds out you’ve been dippin’ into it, you can kiss her sweet ass, and yours, goodbye.”

  “If she’s so off limits, why send me to her?”

  He stopped and turned to me, eyes curious. “I look after my staff, amigo. You can continue enjoying her until Luis gets back.” He waited for my response, and I gave him none, not believing his word for a second.

  Of course he would want me to continue seeing Ana. He would be waiting and listening for the any sign of treason. I would take Gabriel up on his offer, but he wouldn’t find what he was looking for.

  “Not your sort?” I asked in an attempt to return the casual tone.

  He laughed out loud, slapping me on the shoulder as we made our way down the hall. “Not my sort, brother. I like ‘em dirty. The lesser the morals, the better.”

  What a surprise.

  “Five fucking minutes late,” Gabriel barked when a middle-aged man came in flanked by two Santos guards. He wore a cheap suit, thick rimmed glasses and a nervous look.

  “The road three miles north had a police stop.” For a man who looked like he still harbored emotional scars from high school bullies, he spoke with confidence. He wasn’t deterred by Gabriel’s brash manner.

  The two took a seat in opposing armchairs while a waitress brought a bottle of Tequila and two glasses.

  “What’d you tell them?” Gabriel asked, already expecting the worst.

  “I didn’t have to tell them anything. They’re looking for some bitch gone missing. Asked me where I was going. Told them my wife closed up shop years ago, and was on my way to get my dick sucked at the whore house. They’re young. Ripe. Barely legal.”

  While Andrews seemed pleased to divulge details of his regular haunt, Gabriel at least had the decency to look unimpressed. He simply stared at the piece of shit in front of him until finally Andrews wiped the smirk off his face.

  “What do you have for me?” Gabriel asked, downing a glass of Tequila. It was straight back into business.

  “We’re outa luck.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “The Baja cartel is holding strong on the T
ijuana and California coast. We can’t get our cells in there without a full-scale war erupting.”

  “The fucking Baja cartel? You’re telling me that miserable excuse for a social group is preventing us from claiming the lower west coast?”

  “I think you need to re-evaluate your views on the Baja cartel. They’re not some ‘social group,’ Gabriel. They have the law enforcement all up the west coast on their side. They even have the border cracking down on any known Santos men, which is why we can’t get close in their territory. That border once belonged to Hector Florez.”

  “I know who fucking Hector Florez is.”

  “Then you’ll know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

  Gabriel paused, steepled fingers tapping in contemplation. “The thing is Andrews… you were given one job and one job only, and that was to secure the west coast border. Tijuana is a hotspot for gringos looking to get fucked up away from their privileged college lives. The Californian coast is our golden gateway. Hector Florez and his empire are long dead. In fact, I doubt he even uttered the word ‘Baja’ once in his time, that’s how insignificant they are. So please, tell me again, how you have allowed some guerrilla group labeling themselves a cartel, take ownership of the border?”

  “You’re missing the point—”

  “No, you’re missing the point!” The three-quarter filled bottle of Tequila shattered against the wall. Some nearby women yelping in fear at the sudden outburst. Gabriel rose to his feet towering over Andrews. Men who were appreciating their stage stripteases looked over their shoulders, pissed their moment of short-lived ecstasy was interrupted. “I have a lot invested in that border already, and your inability to complete the task is simply not good enough.”

  Andrew’s swallowed and licked his lips. He was growing nervous and unsure whether he should have just turned around at the police stop and driven far away in the opposite direction.

  “Javier from Baja already has men expanding out throughout Northern Mexico looking for our tunnels and crossing,” he stammered in an attempt to divert the immediate attention off him. His confidence was waning as Gabriel’s temper grew.

  Gabriel tapped his forehead absorbing Andrews’s latest news. “Who did you talk to?”

  “What?”

  “Who. The. Fuck, did you talk to?”

  Andrews shook his head in a panic.

  “No one.”

  “Don’t fucking bullshit me!”

  “I swear—”

  “Why the fuck would they come searching for our tunnels and crossings unless you’ve snitched?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Is that what you are Andrews?” Gabriel flipped the table between them and kicked Andrews chair backward sending his opponent onto the floor. Gabriel hovered above, his Barretta pressed between Andrews’ eyes. “Did you fucking snitch?”

  “No—”

  “You working for them? Spilling our secrets?”

  “No!”

  “How else have they taken over the border before us, unless you have been drip feeding them information? Huh? Doesn’t make fucking sense, Andrews. Now they’re on our tails? Some piss weak cartel ready to claim our territory, getting the intel from one of our own? An eye for an eye, Andrews. That’s how they’re treating it now. You snitched, and now you’re fucking lying to my face.”

  “No,” he pleaded, arms raised slightly in a useless protective shield.

  “Then. Who. The fuck. Is spilling information?” Gabriel bellowed, stilling everyone in the room. The businessmen watched, turning in their seats. The strippers stood motionless in their various degrees of nakedness, clutching the pole for support.

  “Perhaps they’ve been watch—”

  “Get the fuck up!”

  Gabriel stood to the side as Andrews staggered to his feet. He stood, looking ready to bolt, but knowing he wouldn’t make it very far.

  “I tell you what…” Gabriel began, moderately calmer than before. “I’ll give you ten seconds to get the fuck out of here alive. After that time, my man here…” he pointed to me and Andrews’ frightened eyes met mine, “…is going to hunt you down. You’re finished Andrews. I think you’ve fucked things up enough.”

  “You know me. I wouldn’t —”

  “Five fucking years you’ve worked for me!” he seethed. “How many of those were double-crossing?”

  “I’m sorry, Gabriel.”

  And there it was. An admission. Stupid fuck.

  “Save it. Your time starts now. Ten. Nine. Eight…”

  Andrews turned on his heel and barged his way through the two security. He ran, determined to save the last few seconds he had left.

  “End it,” Gabriel instructed, and I followed the traitor outside where I was met by the blinding sun. Andrews had his back to me fumbling with his keys and cursing through the tears. I wound the silencer onto the Glock just as he had opened the driver’s side door.

  “Andrews,” I called. He froze, shoulders dropping by the slightest degree. “Turn around.” I didn’t want to shoot the man in the back. “Just do it. Turn. Around.”

  Reluctantly he complied, spilling words of warning as he did so. “Get away from him. He’ll do the same to—”

  My bullet exploded his Adam’s apple on entry and shattered his spine on exit. His eyes rolled and his body slumped heavily against the car before falling in a heap on the ground. In the distance, the crows squaled waiting for their next feed. I had just killed a man I knew little of, but what I did know only emphasized the need to end him. I wasn’t here to grieve men like Andrews. He was just another wife beating, child molesting piece of shit the world could do without.

  “Boss says we need to take him to the lake,” one of the beefy security guards said from behind.

  “He’s all yours. Avoid the northern highway.” One good thing the fucker did was warn about the police traffic stop.

  I watched as they hauled the limp body into the backseat of his car, a thick smear of blood coating the door.

  Inside, Gabriel was back in his chair, a naked woman perched on each knee. While one ravaged his neck, the other flicked her long hair back in apparent delight, her heavy breasts being sucked and bitten. A waitress appeared and began cleaning up the debris of broken glass. Gabriel had already consumed a lot of alcohol, and we were in for a long night.

  One of the girls moved slightly on his lap, and his eyes caught mine. He released a breast from his mouth and made to stand.

  “Let’s continue this back home shall we?” The women smiled lighting up the room. To them, this was a privilege. They were the chosen ones, albeit for a night.

  Gabriel loved his women as much as he loved his guns and alcohol. He partied hard and unlike other drug lords, he indulged in a little too much of the merchandise. Instead of keeping the home free of drugs and paraphernalia in case of a raid, lines of coke and vials of liquid coke were offered like bowls of candy. There was eight of us. Gabriel, myself, three strippers from the club, and three of Gabriel’s posse. Reggaeton music blared from the hidden speakers, and the girls did what they do best. They put on a show. The men cheered with each item of clothing fell to the floor. The girls absorbed the attention and when the men partook in another line they became louder and more obnoxious. The drugs didn’t affect them like it would the common user. These men were well seasoned.

  I sat on a stool behind the main couch where they were all seated and watched the train-wreck with a mix of disinterest and curiosity. I had a target, and he was not in this room. I had no idea where he was, but I was eager to visit Ana again for more information. She seemed both frightened and somewhat interested in my angle. She wasn’t loyal to Luis Santos. She could quite happily see the end of him.

  There was a squeal of delight and my reality returned. Gabriel’s hand circled the neck of the honey blonde stripper bringing her to her knees. She folded with ease and licked her lips at the offering. Under Gabriel’s stronghold she snorted a line, the effects immediate. Unlike the men, sh
e had already consumed too much given her experience and weight. She rolled back on her heels and slumped against Gabriel’s legs, her own legs opening wide as they fell to the side. She was awake but not alert, the world settling into a neat haze around her.

  The men cheered when another girl fell to her knees and began eating out her friend. The women were fucked up and would do just about anything to forget where they were. A man known only as Darryl, sucked on his finger, swiped a line and then smeared the coke on his gums. He hooked his hand through the hair of the bleached blonde stripper he’d been watching all night and dragged her away from the couch. She didn’t protest but winced in pain.

  This was the hard part. These girls were far from innocent and contributed to the vicious cycle, but they often had nothing better in their lives. To see them abused by men who only wanted to take advantage was sickening. Plying them with drugs and the promise of a small fortune before ripping into each of their orifices was disgusting.

  I finished my own drink and contemplated putting a bullet in each of their heads. It would happen, but only when Luis Santos proved he was more than just a myth. I needed that fucker in front of me, and as soon as he was taken care of, I would end Gabriel and every man who basked in his limelight.

  Gabriel lived in a mansion, but the walls were paper thin. I could hear the grunts coming from Darryl as he plowed away followed by the whimpering of his victim. He had her bent over the back of a couch, yanking on her hair until her back was concaved to the point it looked like she would snap. He had made no effort to seek privacy, settling for the first piece of furniture he could find.

  Then there was Gabriel. My mind was warring, debating whether to intervene and risk jeopardizing everything. Pleas of a desperate woman begging for mercy, and the incessant crying of another, traveled the length of the hall to where I was sitting by the pool. I had seen girls leave his bedroom before, all battered and bruised and longing for better days. He was the violent type. He got off on their tears and loved the challenge in their struggles. Gabriel was no angel.