Chapter 29

ELLA

Three hours later, I was sitting in the back of an SUV with Andrea as Chico drove. Thankfully, we’d avoided the sketchy boat trip and taken a jungle track away from the house instead, but the journey was long and silent.

Andrea had forced me into a tight black dress with deep cleavage and given me a new identity as a girl named Polly.

“Under no circumstances should you let him see your mark,” Andrea said, positioning my hair over the scar.

“Remember what is at cost if he finds out who you are and that I am behind this. That party will turn into a shootout instantly, and the blood will be on your hands.”

I nodded.

“Who is this man?” I asked.

“I don’t have secure ownership over the trading territory in Caracas. There is another cartel rivaling us for it, fighting for it, refusing to give up. It’s like a war, and I lose men to it every single day.

“This man is the kingpin to the other cartel, Richardo Gonzalez.”

As he said the name, his tongue lashed with spite as if it was poison to his lips.

“So, he must die,” Andrea concluded. “And then Caracas will be mine.”

I nodded.

“You know it was a tough choice between planting a bomb and blowing the whole party and this less…extravagant method. But I decided the bomb would be too kind.

“I want to kill the bastard with my own hands and watch him suffer,” Andrea said.

“Why have you waited this long?” I asked.

“Because the bastard is impossible to find. Or was impossible to find. But then his computer security system failed for zero point zero zero two seconds, and that’s all my tech guy needed to hack in.

“Then I could listen to every phone call, read every text, and see every location. The man’s as good as dead.”

“Señor, we’re almost there,” Chico spoke up.

“Ready, Blanca?” he asked.

I nodded.

“When you get him alone, make sure you get his gun off him. I want him totally defenseless,” he said. “And do whatever it takes to keep him in that room until I get there, understand?”

I gave the slightest nod.

“Do you understand?” he asked again. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “I understand.”

***

Chico stopped the car among a line of other expensive and fancy-looking cars outside a large house.

Pretty women in long dresses accompanied by men in suits were stepping out of all the cars, flocking for the front door of the house, which judging by the music and chatter, was the location of the party.

At the front of the door, two big men stood clearly keeping guard, eyeing every guest to enter.

“Surely they will recognize your face?” I asked as Andrea took my hand and guided me down out of the car as I took care not to trip in my dress and heels.

“Don’t worry about that,” he replied with a wink.

We then made our way to the front door. Andrea approached the security with confidence. Both of them nodded to him and let him through without so much as a word.

“As I said,” Andrea whispered in my ear, “I have people everywhere.”

Once we had entered the doors, we were greeted by champagne and canapés. Andrea took two glasses from the closest waiter and handed one to me before leading me away from the door.

He then scanned the lobby of the large house and let out a short sigh.

“Through here,” he said, dragging me into the next room, which was huge with many sofas, tables, and a large window stretching up two floors that looked out to a bubbling blue pool.

People mostly stood in small groups inside or around the pool, but some couples sat on the sofas, leaning close to each other with their hands on the other’s legs and their arms around each other.

“Out there,” Andrea said, pulling me into him and putting his hands on my hips so that my ear was close to his lips. “Gonzalez is by the pool.”

I slowly turned my head to look outside in the most discreet way possible.

“The one with the red tie and the mustache,” Andrea added, still staring straight ahead.

I followed his gaze and saw who he had described. A man around thirty, perhaps with a light stubbly mustache and a bold red tie.

He held a glass of champagne and around him stood two couples, hands entwined, and two or three other men.

“He has no mate?” I asked.

“You’ll have no trouble tempting him. Trust me,” he added, nodding to a group of girls who had just entered.

Their dresses were short and their makeup fiercer than the other women at the party.

“He’s known for his love for women,” he said. “Those girls are all prostitutes.”

“Do I look like a prostitute to you?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“He’ll love you,” Andrea slurred, running his hand over my ass. “Now go.”

After gulping, I headed for the door leading out to the deck around the pool. I turned back to Andrea briefly, but he only gave me an encouraging nod before taking a large swig of champagne.

As I neared the group, I walked around so that I came to Gonzalez from the back. With my heart beating fast, I cleared my throat and took a deep breath.

“Señor Gonzalez?” I said.

“Si?” he said, before turning around.

His eyes scanned my face and then dropped to my chest before his face softened and his lips turned into a smile.

“Americana, eh?” he asked.

I nodded with a confident smile.

“What brings you to Venezuela, chica?” he asked. “And to my party?”

I simply smiled as flirtatiously as possible and ran my hand down his arm.

Gonzalez paused for a second, eyeing me once again. My heart beat so fast, the tension crushing me from the inside. But then he put a hand around my waist and pulled me closer to him, and I let myself relax.

I made eye contact with Andrea, who was watching from the same spot inside, and he smiled in satisfaction and nodded once again.

“It is a wonderful party, Mr. Gonzalez,” I replied.

“Gracias, my dear,” he said. “I am celebrating my thirtieth birthday.”

“Well, congratulations,” I said, before leaning closer to his ear. “I’ll give you your birthday gift upstairs.”

He grinned and took a deep breath in before his hand shifted down to my ass.

For the next ten minutes, he continued the conversation with the guests around him as he ran his hand all over my back and through my hair.

Every time his fingers brushed my neck, I tensed, terrified that he’d see my mark, but each time I managed to escape narrowly.

His guests soon slowly excused themselves from the circle until it was just us.

“Is it time for my gift?” he asked, before squeezing my ass.

I smiled once again, took his hand, and began leading him toward the house.

Without much difficulty, I found the large staircase and opened the door to the first bedroom I found.

“Señorita,” he said, removing his jacket and tie. “Can I interest you in a drink?”

He then walked across the room to a tray of various spirits and began pouring a glass.

He had turned around, and since he had removed his jacket, his belt and gun were visible.

“No, thank you,” I replied as I stared at the gun stuffed into his belt.

He then faced me again and smiled. “You look beautiful tonight.”

I nodded before slowly approaching him and running my hands down his chest.

He leaned forward as if he was going to kiss me.

“Actually,” I said, turning my head away. “A drink would be nice.”

He smiled and nodded. “Very well.”

Sweat accumulated in my palms, and I couldn’t help but hunch my shoulders and wrap my arms around myself.

What I was more scared about was unclear. This man making advances on me or the fact that Andrea was about to kill him?

I took the drink gladly and took a large mouthful.

“You like whiskey, huh?” he asked.

It tasted like ass, but I needed it.

I just smiled and placed the drink down slowly on the side before stepping forward, closer to him. His arms reached out and wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him before he ran a single finger down the side of my cheek.

“Your skin is soft,” he replied. “And your body is beautiful.”

“Gracias,” I said, before he leaned slowly down to my neck.

I took a deep breath in, praying he’d avoid my mark. He did, but only narrowly, and when he began trailing kisses farther up, he got closer and closer.

Without much thought, I reached behind his back and seized the gun from his belt, pushing him away from me and pointing it toward him.

He glanced down at his gun in my shaking hands before looking back up to me. I tried to hold a firm face and the gun as still as possible to convey the slightest bit of confidence, but I was failing miserably.

“Señorita, I’m sorry. We can go slower,” he said, stepping forward.

I thrust the gun toward him. “Stay back,” I hissed.

He held his hands up and moved back to his original spot.

The bedroom door was still shut, and there were no footsteps in the hallway. For once, I was begging to see Andrea, but there was no sign of him.

“Did I scare you?” Gonzalez asked. “I promise, I am no threat.”

I said nothing but only stared back, keeping eye contact.

“Señorita, put the gun down,” he said, after a couple of moments of silence.

His tone dropped, and his expression hardened.

~Andrea, come on. Come on, come on.~

“Who are you working for?” he asked. “If you’re an assassin, should you have killed me by now?”

I still didn’t reply.

“Come on then,” he spat. “Do it.”

There was still no sign of Andrea, and I found my finger adjusting on the trigger. I’d do it if I had to.

But my hesitation caused a smile to creep back onto Gonzalez’s face, “That’s what I thought,” he began, lurching forward before the bedroom door finally flung open, cutting him short.

Andrea strode in, holding his tie in his hands and, without stopping, came straight for Gonzalez. Before he could even turn around, Andrea had the tie around his neck from behind so tight that he was entirely immobilized.

“You think you can take Caracas from me, huh?” Andrea growled in his ear.

“Martinez…,” he croaked, fumbling with the tie around his neck.

His face had already turned bright red as he struggled, but then it slowly began to turn purple.

“It will be mine,” Andrea continued, tightening the tie around his windpipe. His lips twitched and snarled.

I stared dumbstruck, the gun still in hand.

“Blanca, out,” Andrea barked. “Wait for me downstairs.”

I obeyed without hesitation and hurried out of the room with a nauseating sickness in my stomach. After rushing down the hall and the stairs, I was back in among the party.

Everybody around me was totally naive to what was happening upstairs, which only increased my nervousness as I stood once again waiting for Andrea.

He appeared a minute or so later, stepping quickly down the stairs and retying his tie as he went. He scanned the remaining people at the party before grabbing my hand.

“Let’s go,” he said, walking so fast to the door that I had to run to keep up.

As we left the front door, he pulled out a walkie-talkie and brought it to his mouth.

“Do it,” he said to whoever was on the receiving end, before picking up his pace even more.

“Do what?” I asked. “What’s happening?”

Andrea’s face was stone cold, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of replying.

But my question was answered regardless.

The first thing I heard was a bang, and then only the ringing of my ears followed by muffled screaming and shouts.

I looked behind me to the house we had left a few seconds before to see it burst into flames with parts entirely blown away.

“No,” I whispered as we reached the car Chico was still waiting in. “Andrea, why?”

Tears gathered in my eyes as I fixed my stare on the house, which was now a roaring bonfire. There must have been over a hundred people in there, but there’s no way anyone could have survived that.

“Why?!” I asked again, pushing his chest as he encouraged me into the SUV.

“Because I don’t fuck around when it comes to my enemies,” he replied. “They all had to die, but I only felt the need to kill one myself.”

He then shoved me into the car and sat beside me.

My tears soon ran out, and we just sat in total silence for the rest of the journey.

I couldn’t help but think about the men and women I’d met and seen briefly at the party who were all dead now or the bright hue of desperation on Gonzalez’s face seconds before Andrea killed him.

It sickened me that I had been a part of this. A cog in the murder machine. Of course, Andrea had been the fuel and operator, but I helped, and for that, I knew I’d always feel guilty whether I had chosen to or not.