Maria sank down into the tub with her glass of wine. She did something she rarely ever did and allowed herself to be in the moment. The warm bath water felt good washing over her body—like a friend wrapping their arms around her with an encouraging word that everything was going to be okay. It wasn’t a feeling she was accustomed to so she took a moment to enjoy it.
Being home had never felt so good. She had a new appreciation for her high-rise apartment. She was always around people but at times she still felt so lonely. Tonight was different—tonight she wanted to be alone.
Even though she knew she had the protection of the Colombian cartel through Diego, a fierce sense of self-preservation had become her constant companion. It didn’t matter how many people she had looking out for her, the need to survive was innate.
Her home gave her peace of mind. When people came into the building, they were escorted to the reception desk by a security guard. After they checked in at the reception desk, the employee would then call the resident to confirm whether the visitor could come up. She liked that added layer of security.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t a fighter, it was just that she’d seen all the ugly the world had to offer, up close and personal. Try as she might, though, she felt like she’d never shake off all that ugly. Sometimes it takes an outsider to see our true worth, to see the good in us. Maria had never had that, so instead she filled the void by creating meaningless, superficial drama, just so she could feel like she was part of something.
All she knew tonight was that she was safe at home and would live to fight another day. For now, that was enough.
Any seasoned criminal was bound to share a few traits with those who fought on the right side of the law. Crush understood that. He was a quiet man of few words. He had the brawn but he had the brains too. He considered himself a student of human nature. He was as cunning as he was deadly, which explained how he had earned the respect of cartel leadership. It also explained why he had been so confident that Maria had gone straight home.
As he pulled over to the curb, the lights went on in her apartment. He had been right, again. But he got bonus points for spotting the nondescript SUV parked just down the block. The one with Santiago behind the wheel. Fuckin’ A.
Santiago owned more than one vehicle for the obvious reasons—all the better to elude and confuse law enforcement. He was a truck man too, but he was known to favor his Cadillac Escalade when he wanted impress the ladies. After all, you needed to impress a girl if you were going to pick her up and kill her.
Crush figured Santiago had chosen to drive his SUV tonight because Maria probably already knew his truck. He didn’t like that possibility, because if that was the case, it meant Santiago really was specifically gunning for Maria—it meant things had become personal. Crush was finding out quickly that what was personal for Maria, was personal for him as well.
This was never going to be over until Santiago’s body was in the incinerator. Crush couldn’t help but be impressed that the Ramirez brothers had taken a page out of Alexander Glazov’s book by installing one. Though it was an ongoing joke, everybody agreed—no body, no crime.
Crush pulled in behind Santiago’s vehicle and cut the engine. The SUV’s darkly tinted windows gave Crush an advantage as he approached the vehicle from behind, holding a rag doused with chloroform.
A profound calm came over Crush as he got in position to take the fucker down. As he gripped the SUV’s driver’s side door handle, he glanced up at the clear sky and the full moon and wondered if the peaceful heavens were a good omen.
Supposedly the crime rate went up during a full moon. Yes…when it came to his job, Crush was a deep thinker.
Sometime between that second and third joint, Santiago had gotten drowsy. He was glad he decided to drive the SUV because with the seat reclined, it was almost as comfortable as a bed. When it became obvious the girl would probably stay put for the night, he had allowed himself to nod off. Hell, even a killer needed a nap sometimes.
So, he never saw Crush approach the car because he was asleep. He didn’t notice when Crush opened the car door, either, because Crush used a power amplifier to bypass the SUV’s remote keyless system. He never felt a thing when Crush pulled his limp body from the vehicle because the chloroform had done its job. He hadn’t noticed that, either. Awareness would come later as the night wore on.
Santiago’s reign of terror would be over in a matter of hours and the Club women would be safe from a madman. Santiago’s only hope was that death would be quick, but that was unlikely.
“Everything comes to an end, motherfucker, and she is most definitely not for you,” Crush growled as he tossed Santiago’s limp body into the backseat of his truck. He quickly bound him with the duct tape he kept on hand, and slapped some over his mouth for good measure. Duct tape…a trick of the trade.
“C’mon, fucker, you’ve got a party to go to,” Crush muttered as he pulled away from the curb. “This is one soiree I’m honored to be invited to. God knows you don’t crash a Ramirez brothers party unless you’ve got a death wish. Now, me? I’m just beginning to live.”