by Amarie Avant
Taking a deep breath, she allowed her heart to calcify. No more thinking about him.
Canelo and Soledad would finish soon, so Mary Jane rushed around the house, feeling a lonely presence as she went door to door, opening each one. A smile lit her face as she opened the door to the cleaning supply room. Chemicals.
Mary Jane had a flashback of Dr. Kohl’s class in high school. She’d literally created a bomb. Her mom had built good rapport with the principal over the years, but Mom was on vacation. That meant her dad was going to murder her when he arrived. Only Dad didn’t get mad. He didn’t rigidly reprimand her at school. He ruined his daughter’s lives by making them spend half their waking time studying self-defense.
In the maintenance closet, Mary Jane found hydrochloric acid in the form of Lime-Away product. Her hand then skimmed over a more concentrated form of the chemical in Lysol disinfectant. She grabbed a few more bottles of bathroom cleaner that would make for a rather distracting explosion then headed for the kitchen.
She quickly surveyed the room for a refrigerator since the expansive room was surrounded with glass doors leading to a portico. She then went to custom-made cherry wood doors, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed a few bottles of soda. Quickly, she opened and drained them into the stainless-steel sink. Grabbing a bag from under the sink, she placed the empty bottles inside and picked up her cleaning supplies. Bypassing the stainless-steel cutlery on the counter, she sifted through drawers and found another set of knives scattered about. It wouldn’t do for anyone to notice a missing knife from the block. She grabbed the largest butcher knife. Picking up her bag of items, she paused at the sound of voices.
On her tippy toes, Mary Jane scurried for the kitchen archway. The exit was right in the line of the sun area near the pool. Reminding herself to breathe, Mary Jane peeked just outside of the kitchen to see Canelo buckling up his pants. Soledad was already at the door, fully naked. Her hair a modest cover to her tiny breasts, but Mary Jane saw more than enough. Eyes wide Mary Jane froze, knowing she’d been caught. Soledad turned around and shouted back at Canelo.
She slipped out of the kitchen a fragment of a second before Soledad’s head turned forward. Mary Jane ran up the stairs with her toes softly padding against the ceramic floors. Hearing Soledad heading up the stairs, she knew it would take too long to get back to her room. She slipped inside the first door.
Standing behind the cracked door, she slowed her breathing and listened to Soledad’s footsteps.
The echo seemed to stop right outside the door.
Seconds later, the footsteps continued. Leaning against the door, she inhaled a deep breath. The all-wood room had a two-monitor computer. More importantly, there was a printer. Eyes locked onto the HP Laser Jet and Mary Jane placed the bag onto the floor next to the desk.
She pressed the button and it started up. The sound made her grimace. Mary Jane pulled up the top and detached the imaging drum set. The aluminum in this product would be the perfect match to the hydrochloric acid in the cleaning supply. Closing the compartment, Mary Jane lifted her plastic bag. She pushed open the door slowly and with her back against the wall, she moved cautiously toward the office door.
When Mary Jane didn’t hear a peep, she stepped closer to the center of the large hallway and the corner of her eye noticed the top of Soledad’s head as the woman headed up the stairs. She dodged back into the office.
“Canelo! Canelo!”
“What the fuck, Soledad?”
“She-she’s, damn it!”
Mary Jane pulled the knife out of her bag.
“I told the chef to be home by now. She’s late. All the housekeepers are late!”
With a lump in her throat and heartbeat pounding in her ears, Mary Jane listened as Soledad mentioned a man named Hector would complain. Once the coast was clear, she finally left the office and went back to her room.
She considered her choices. Hector seemed important. She could try to kill the two of them now, but she’d have to hurry with her diversion.
The door opened. She plopped down onto the edge of the bed, sitting in front of her bag.
Canelo entered with a half-smile. “I’m going to help you, Mary Jane. I just spoke with someone who can help you.”
Mary Jane didn’t blink as he came closer. He usually sat on the bed next to her. She leaned back and deftly pushed the sheet up over the bag. After hoping it was fully masked by the rumpled covers, she rose as he placed the plate on the foot of the bed.
He sighed. “I know you’re not talking to me. When Hector arrives, I will speak with him about you. I know you’re not Lalina.”
“Huh?” Standing there feeling useless, Mary Jane’s nervous gaze found the tiny lump on the bed. She tried to concentrate on not being caught.
“I’m going to talk to the boss,” he said, starting to sit exactly where her bag was hidden.
“Thank you,” she said, coming to stand before him. She patted his shoulder. Canelo arose and the air in Mary Jane’s lungs evaporated as he towered over her.
“No more hurting yourself.” He reached over and brushed her hair over her shoulder.
Attempting to keep her concentration on Canelo and not the task at hand, she nodded, licking her lips. “Thanks for earlier,” she mumbled.
Canelo’s mouth descended on Mary Jane’s before her brain registered what he’d done. He completely misunderstood her appreciation.
Bile slammed up her throat at the thought of him just having sex. She gulped it down, pressing away from his chest. She forced herself to look at him with kindness when all she wanted to do was pull out her knife and defend herself.
“Thank you, thank you,” she said breathily.
The lust in Canelo’s eyes struck her hard, pinning her in place.
“I’m sleepy.” She yawned.
Canelo paused, then nodded as if realizing that he shouldn’t be touching her. He smiled and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Mary Jane sank down onto the very spot of the sheet which was covering her bag and laughed at herself while hopping back up. She moved to a seated position next to her explosive chemicals. That moment taught her one thing. Canelo would be easy to trick; Soledad was another issue.
53
After a few hours of forced sleep, Wulf hit the road again. Tito’s directions hadn’t been entirely specific. But driving inland and south was the gist of what Tito knew. Three hours later, tumbleweeds and sand had transitioned to a smog-filled city then finally opened to a beautiful lush green land. Tito had said once he passed the agricultural town of Juero, Mexico, he’d travel up a windy mountain further into the emerald green mountains. Through the thick of vibrant trees, Wulf first noticed the red clay tile roof that seemed to extend for ages.
The mansion popped into view. As he drove past, he noticed the dirt terrain showed signs of less traffic. At a rest stop about a hundred miles back, Wulf had grabbed a map of the area, since his iPhone might fail him for potential unused roads. There was a trail leading up into the windy mountain and he had a hunch, they might have to use it.
About a quarter of a mile north of the mansion, Wulf placed his right shoulder on the passenger seat headrest, then reversed into the thicket, preparing for a covert escape if necessary. He got out and shut the door.
Taking in the scenery, he moved toward the mansion and found the security lacking, but took a swift survey of the home before nearing a window. Just his luck, he looked into the kitchen. Mary Jane.
She didn’t look like an abductee, digging around the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of soda. She looked like this was a leisure Saturday with Netflix.
He ducked down when he heard noises.
I’m going to talk to her.
What the fuck!
I’m risking my life for a chat with a woman who left me.
A war raged within his psyche. When he looked up, he saw a feminine frame in the upstairs window across the courtyard. Wulf zipped toward the cherubim water fountain in the mi
ddle of the courtyard, but the woman was gone. He knelt for a few moments until he noticed Mary Jane again in what appeared to be an office upstairs a few doors down. He was unable to get a close view of her face. Again, she moved around entirely too freely. Someone who had been abducted wouldn’t meander the kitchen and various places around the house, back to a room where they should no doubt be confined.
Someone abducted would run once they broke out of their room.
Peeking around the statue, he noticed a balcony and hurried out in the open toward it. At the base of the balcony, Wulf jumped. He gripped the ledge and grunted while pulling himself up onto the floorboard of the iron balcony. He leaned his leg over the railing one at a time. It was diagonal to the room he’d seen her in.
Wulf cursed himself for being on the balcony out in the open, for any of Hector’s goons to see. All he needed was one thug to unexpectedly step out of the house or drive up, and that’d be the end of his life.
He cursed the feelings he had for Mary Jane because being with her felt just closer to home. That was not a good response to have with regard to a woman who’d left him for this extravagant existence. A frigid feeling clinched at his heart as he watched Mary Jane kissing a man. Not just any man.
Canelo.
It had to be him.
I’m a fucking idiot.
After a minute, he peeked back up and couldn’t see anyone. Maybe they’d laid down on the bed. Wulf climbed over the side of the railing and jumped down. He ran toward the forested area.
Just in the safety of the trees, Wulf slammed his fist into a cypress tree. Searing pain shot down his forearm, but it didn’t compare to the tearing of his heart. The ripping in two. There’d be no dying for love today—a love that didn’t love him. He silently hurried back to his stolen car.
Void of all emotion, he got in and closed the door. He lay his forehead on the steering wheel for a few minutes as he took in the drastic change he called life. This person that he’d become was an old recycled version of his younger self. Foolish and dumb. A life of stealing and fighting was exactly how his father raised him.
Biting his bottom lip, Wulf put the key into the ignition. He determined that the private security job would do. At least he’d make a shitload of money, and there’d probably be enough beautiful women who would help him drown his sorrows.
“Shit, that’s why you fell so hard for Mary Jane.” He laughed bitterly at himself.
Blast!
An explosion drew his attention back to the house. After the loud blast, an eerie silence followed for a split second. And then he heard a woman scream.
54
The shrill opera-like scream shrieked through the house. The moment Soledad appeared at the door to bring her a provocative dress for Hector’s arrival home, Mary Jane had attacked. She threw the smoke bomb at her face. The chemicals combusted, splashing against her skin. Soledad’s cry delayed her reaction time. Mary Jane needed to get out now. A slight inhale of the chemical would be enough to make her lungs cave.
She covered her face with her shirt and moved around the side of the door. She leaped over Soledad as the bitch went crumbling to the floor.
Every fiber in Mary Jane’s being was on fire the instant Soledad entered the room. Mary Jane had seen Wulf heading back into the forest. At least the vision had seemed so real. Now, she hurried down the hall, wielding the butcher knife as Soledad rolled on the floor with respiratory failure and chemical burns bubbling the skin of her neck and face. Mary Jane’s lungs burned when she sucked in a breath, and she hadn’t even taken a breath since tossing the bottle at Soledad’s face.
“Lalina!” Canelo called as he headed down the stairs. Mary Jane took her last step and sprinted toward the front door. Shadows of large men moved behind the frosted glass and wrought iron wood double-door.
Hector was home.
She skidded on the hardwood floor and started to turn, but a clicking sound stopped her dead in her tracks. The cock of a shotgun’s safety.
“Not another move!”
Before her, Canelo stood at the end of the hallway. His eyes wide with concern for her.
Hands ascending slowly, Mary Jane dropped the knife. Her only other form of defense went clanking to the floor.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
Mary Jane completed a slow about-face. The expansive room grew crowded as seven Mexican men in shiny suits ranging from black to gray glared at her. All except for man in charge who wore a posh white suit with a black rose in the lapel.
“And you are?” The boss, with his salt and pepper slicked back hair, stared at Mary Jane.
She managed a gulp, eyes widening at just how menacing he appeared.
“Hector, she’s a gift.” Soledad’s cracked voice traveled down the stairs. They all looked up to where she leaned over the balcony, holding a wet rag to her face. The men’s expressions contorted. She was no longer a captivating beauty, but just as ugly as her heart. One of those dark soulless eyes was sealed shut. Soledad’s face and hand had blotched red spots as she held onto the railing of the stairway above.
“What the fuck happened to you?” asked one of the goons in Spanish.
“Lalina did it!” Soledad used both hands as she came down the stairs. Her breathing rasped with each step. She stepped in front of Mary Jane. With force, she slapped her.
Mary Jane went sprawling to the floor. She bit her lip and growled, “Fuck!”
Staying on the floor for a death that was sure to come seemed the most obvious of choices. Giving up without showing fear to these heartless bastards was better than begging.
Hector hiked up his pants and knelt. “Who might you be?” he inquired again, this time in English.
“Mary Jane.”
“Pretty little thing,” he said, wiping the blood from her lip with his thumb. “Mighty nice gift, but I prefer my gifts to not harbor malicious intent.”
“She’ll be the best gift you’ve ever received.” Soledad’s lips trembled into a grin, causing her cheeks to crack and deepening the lines of her chemical burns. “She’s the Puerto Rican’s daughter.”
“She? She’s Lalina?” Hector’s eyes locked onto Mary Jane as if she were the rarest jewel while he helped her up.
“No, she’s not,” Canelo spoke up.
“Yes, she is!” Soledad exclaimed, staring at Mary Jane.
Every eye shifted back and forth between the two in consideration.
“She does look just like Escobar’s youngest,” one observed.
“But she’s not.” Canelo shook his head. “I have a friend that works at the resort in Generosa. Lalina stayed there at the same time this woman did and—”
Soledad shouted, “Shut the fu—”
“Quiet!” Hector ordered, the force of his voice made her shoulders quiver, her body freeze. “Speak!” he commanded Canelo.
“Fernando, a valet at the resort where this girl also stayed, says a Jag blew up a few weeks ago. I just got off the phone with my friend. We can call Fernando back if you want. The police are keeping quiet. They’re afraid Escobar will…” Canelo paused, as if embarrassed about mentioning something. He shrugged and said, “You know, retaliate. The police haven’t said anything. The Jag wrecked in a canyon, inland and away from where the puta was vacationing. Two women were found dead. One of them had a license for Lalina. Escobar’s kid is dead.”
Hector seemed to be thinking as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Mary Jane recalled Soledad and Canelo arguing about Escobar. This enemy of his was becoming a thorn in his side.
“If Soledad’s right, then having Escobar’s baby girl would put the El Toro cartel at the top of the totem pole,” one of the other men mumbled. A few nodded in agreement.
“She’s his daughter,” Soledad said, obviously trying to justify any fuck-ups quickly.
“And if she’s not?” Hector’s right-hand man questioned.
“Beat her black and blue and barely recognizable. We can send him photos of his daughter’s
death afterward. But with Escobar not aware of his daughter being dead, he’ll make deals. We just won’t be able to keep them, nor have we ever given a crap long enough in the past,” Soledad assured him.
Hector smiled, and in Spanish said, “Just knowing his daughter has been marked by Devil’s Blood is enough for me.”
“Yes,” Soledad said. “And with Canelo’s news. If the cops have Lalina’s body, we can go get it–”
Soledad’s body dropped swiftly and smoke fizzed from the hole in her forehead. The chrome Desert Eagle in Hector’s hand dropped back to his side. There were tiny blood spatters on the sleeve of his suit jacket. He removed it, saying, “Now that we’ve talked business, where is dinner?”
A maid skulking near the door spoke up. “Please, this way.”
The men headed toward the dining room. Hector took Mary Jane’s hand and retrieved her from the floor. Apparently, he didn’t know she understood the language. He smiled at her.
“You are our guest. Please sit.” Hector held out the camelhair-dining chair for her to sit. He retired at the head of the ten-seat table. “Canelo,” his eyes stopped on the man, “please take the head opposite me.” He pointed across from him.
Canelo’s face glowed. Each goon’s eyes latched onto Canelo as he claimed the coveted seat. Chandeliers twinkled above as well as the crystal glasses before them. This was a celebration and she was their fearful guest. Mary Jane kept quiet as she watched the look of satisfaction on his face. A maid placed tortilla soup on the gold charger before him. Well-seasoned bowls were then offered to the rest of them. Without words, everyone began to eat.
“My dear, dig in.” Hector patted Mary Jane’s hand.
She looked at him, still so unsure of what to do.
