It takes everything in me not to let my emotions show.

Instead, I do what he needs me to do. I keep watch, my gun at my side, ready to fire if necessary. It’s so damn quiet I can hear my own heart beating, the bell of the buoy a short distance away.

Clark steps to the left, near a metal rail with a pair of binoculars in front of his eyes.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and I look over at him.

“What?” I step toward him, peering ahead with squinted eyes.

“I can’t see a fucking thing. I don’t even know where they went.” He looks some more, and when he finally catches sight of something, he holds a hand up. “Got them. I see a hand in the air. He’s giving them a signal to get ready.” He drops the binoculars and walks to me, handing them over. “She’s arriving. Look by the black boat. You’ll see them.”

I pick up the binoculars and scan the perimeter. I see Draco and his men by a black boat not too far away from us. Patanza is standing with a cellphone, most likely texting Ruben, letting him know we’re two boats down like Draco had planned.

They all crouch down when they hear a loud bell go off. I look toward the chime of the bell and see a yacht riding up to the marina. It’s a black yacht, and of course, I can see the cheetah print seats from here. There are several men on the boats, at least a dozen of them.

She has more than us, but with Ruben’s men around too, we’ll outnumber her. We’ll have sixteen, double what she has…unless she has more inside.

Her hair flaps with the wind, her chin held high, like she rules the damn world. My jaw clenches, and I grip the binoculars tighter. I look to the left and see a thin man standing there, waiting for her, wearing a silk shirt and a gold necklace. A straw fedora covers his dark hair, his hands in his pockets, watching the yacht approach.

“She’s getting closer,” I murmur, dropping the binoculars.

Clark bends down where a black duffle bag is and unzips it, digging out a pump action shotgun and a box of shells, and then loading it. “I love me a good AK, but I dare a motherfucker to try and get past me with this baby.” I see his teeth sparkle from the moonlight.

I bend with him, taking out a few of the pocketknives, just in case, as well as a dagger, sheathed in a red leather holster. I pull the blade out, and it’s thin and sharp—not too long, but long enough to intimidate and even kill.

When Clark has the gun loaded, he stands up tall. I stand with him, looking into his eyes.

He glances over at me with a quirked brow. “What?”

I press my lips, wanting so badly to smile, but unable too. I look back where Draco and his men are waiting behind the boat, their bottom halves soaked from the water.

“Oh, don’t even try it, Gia,” Clark retorts, and I meet his gaze again. “I don’t need your sentimental bullshit right now. We get out of this alive and then you can thank me. Sound good?”

I give him a half-smile. “Sure.”

“Good,” he smirks, “cause she’s about to get off the boat now.”

I turn, strapping the knife to my holster and gripping my gun. Clark has the shotgun in the air, aiming it where Yessica’s boat is. I pick up the binoculars with one hand, watching as men in all black with M4A1s step off, glaring hard at Ruben.

When they’ve all stepped onto the wooden walkway, she comes off last, wearing cheetah-print heels and a red blouse. Her lips are a dark shade of red, almost the color of blood, and from the lamp above, her hair appears even redder now. She’s impossible to miss—an easy target.

I get the urge to shoot her right where she stands, but she’s not mine to kill.

Play it safe.

Keep it cool.

Her time will come.

I continue watching through the binoculars as Ruben extends his arm and offers his hand, saying something to her. She takes his hand, shaking swiftly, and then pulling away, most likely demanding something.

Ruben gestures toward the end of the walkway, and she bobs her head, following his lead, her men trailing behind her while Ruben’s men in navy blue lead the way for him.

“That’s right, bitch,” Clark murmurs, following her with the eye of his shotgun. “Keep walking. Right into your little trap.”

I keep watch with the binoculars. Ruben is doing a great job, smiling, pretending nothing is going on. I look where Draco and his men are. He has his hand up, all of them still crouched low, their guns lifted and ready to blast.

Ruben leads Yessica to two barrels in front of a white boat and has his men pull off the lids. One of his men pulls out a soaking wet package, slicing right through it.

Ruben steps forward, pulling out a knife, saying something to her as he digs the knife into the white powder and brings it up to her, flat and covered in white dust.

I imagine him asking, “Would you like to give a try? See how pure it is?”

She looks him over twice before stepping forward and taking the knife from him. She drops her head, her red hair curtaining her face, and sniffs hard right before pinching her nose and then knocking her head back.

“Wow,” she mouths. Her lips move again, but I’m not sure what she’s saying. She grips Ruben’s shoulder, and he looks sideways at her hand before frowning.

Now.

Now is the time!

Ruben glances at one of his men, who steps forward and presses a gun into one of Yessica’s guard’s head. Her eyes grow wide as Ruben says something.

And when he says his final word, I know exactly what that word is. Even without the binoculars, I would know what he’s just said to her.

With her eyes so wide and her face so struck with horror, there’s only one word—one name—that will shake her so hard to the core.

“Jefe.”