“So, tell me why we’re still sitting around an indoor swimming pool, in this fancy house, sipping cocktails and generally kicking back, when the purpose of our visit was to shoot the fuck out of a bunch of Russians, and get back home?” Pedro smirked as he downed the rest of his drink with a flourish.
“Oh, Pedro.” Luciana sighed. “Not everything has to be quick and clean, y’know. Sometimes you have to draw the moment out and let them sweat a little. It just adds to the anticipation.”
“Really?” Pedro scoffed. “You’re just ramping up the drama? That doesn’t sound like you. And besides, we had to shoot the owners of this beautiful mansion, plus their staff, so we could enjoy their hospitality in this beautiful countryside setting. Was that really necessary? Couldn’t a hotel have done just as well?”
Luciana shrugged, pretending to ignore his curiosity.
“Come on, boss-lady! This is me you’re talking to.” Pedro chuckled. “You don’t do anything for effect, and certainly for no good reason. Which leads me to believe that there’s a damn good reason for us being here. So, what gives? Or are you gonna keep me in the dark?”
Luciana stared at him long enough to have him squirming under her examination.
She trusted Pedro. In fact, he was probably one of only a handful of people she’d ever trusted in her life, but frankly, even that didn’t count for very much.
She lived in a world where you lived or died by who you trusted, and who trusted you. Put your faith in the wrong person and you didn’t last very long.
Luciana had been taught that by her father at a very young age.
Not directly, of course. Luis Castille wasn’t a man to waste his time giving lessons to a young girl, even if she was his daughter. Especially if she was his daughter.
No, she’d learned that lesson quite painfully in her teenage years, when she’d dared mention learning something about his business, so she could be useful to him.
Luis Castille had damn near pissed in his pants.
His laughter was now one of the most vivid memories she had of her papa, but not for any good reasons. He’d never laughed with her, just at her.
The day she’d made her suggestion, he’d grabbed her brutally by her chin, and pulled her face up close to his.
“Do you seriously think I would let a woman anywhere inside my business?” He’d almost spat in her face. “You might be my daughter, but all that means is that one day soon you will be some man’s whore. If you think I’ll send you to him with the secrets of my business in your head, maybe you’re not as smart as your tutors tell me.”
He’d been true to his word, and had never allowed her into meetings, or shared with her his knowledge of the world of drugs, guns, and people-trafficking.
But then, she didn’t need to be taught. You couldn’t live in the Castille complex and not see what was going on. You couldn’t walk past the factories to know a drug operation was in full production mode inside.
And you couldn’t sleep in the bedroom above Luis’ office without being able to hear what was going on below through the floorboards.
Once, when she’d been about twelve, she’d been caught lying on the floor under her bed, and had to pretend that she was afraid of a ghost. Her father slapped her face for being such a coward and a disappointment, but at least he still didn’t know she’d been listening in on his conversations.
Of course, when she was old enough to be given to Hector, Luis had all but sympathised with the man. He figured his daughter was good enough to look at, and would probably be good for breeding, but that was about it.
Little did he know that she’d already spoken with her new husband about how she saw their life together, and Hector, bless him, was at least prepared to humour her.
Of course, once she’d proved how effective and brutal a ‘little wife’ she could be, she found her husband more than happy to keep her at his side.
He obviously had more belief and faith in her than her father ever had.
So, that begged the question, why was she in America, thousands of miles from home, ready to execute dozens of people, just to exact revenge for the death of a man who didn’t give a shit about her?
Because he was her papa. It was as simple and as complex as that.
Besides which, she wouldn’t exactly be living up to her name of the ‘Widow-maker’ if she let the people responsible for her father’s death live, could she? She had a reputation to uphold, after all!
She glanced across at Pedro, who was still watching and waiting for her reply.
“Sometimes, the choices in front of you are black and white, and so your decisions can also be black and white.” She explained. “And then other times, they can be all colours of the rainbow, and you have a dilemma. Do you pick the one that is your favourite colour, but worry because other people might know your favourite colour? Or do you pick your least favourite, hoping that people won’t expect you to do that?”
Pedro stared at her, his mouth hanging open.
“Or do you wait to see which colour other people pick, and then pick something different?” Luciana mused. “It’s a little bit like a game of strategy.”
Pedro leaned forward and picked up her empty glass and sniffed it.
“What the fuck have you been drinking, Lucky?” He grinned. “You sound like you’re fucking trippin’ or something!”
Luciana smiled.
“We came up here armed with a single piece of information.” She pointed out. “That my father was murdered because of a Russian guy. Right?”
Pedro nodded in agreement.
“Do you think that I would take such drastic action without checking my facts?” She asked. “Do you think I’m so reckless, or stupid?”
“Never.” Pedro answered solemnly.
“Do you think I trust everyone around me to have my best interests at heart?” She glanced around the pool, her eyes pausing on her brother-in-law for just a second before continuing.
“Not for one fucking second.” Pedro’s voice was little more than a growl.
“Exactly.” Luciana smiled. “And do you think it’s better to go off half-cocked, when you don’t have all the information you need, or better to wait, while the whole picture reveals itself to us, hmm?”
“Do you have the whole picture?” Pedro asked curiously.
“Not yet.” Luciana smiled. “But soon, my friend, I will have the last piece, and we’ll light this town up the way nobody ever has before. They’ll be talking about it for years to come.”
“Yeah?” Pedro grinned. “That sounds so good, Lucky.”
“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” Luciana sat forward and slipped off the side of the pool into the warm water.
“Could you just do one thing for me first?” Pedro asked, causing her to turn around. “Could you wait until at least late tomorrow to light up the town? If I have one more of those cocktails, it’s gonna take me twenty-four hours to sleep it off. And I really want to be sober for this party!”
“Don’t worry, Pedro, there’s no rush.” She reassured him. “No rush at all.”