Santiago scooted down in his truck, watching her walk toward the bus stop in the pouring rain. Putting her car out of commission had been a simple matter of disconnecting a spark plug wire. Child’s play.
The rain would work in his favor—he hoped. He recognized her as Alicia, the new girl at The Club. He had seen her from a distance, of course, but they’d never met, so she wouldn’t be familiar with him. Her death would send a message though.
True, he could no longer talk to Caden, at least not yet, but he could sure as hell still communicate with her. He wished he could be a fly on the wall when she realized he was back. He wished he could see the look on their faces when Diego and Brook learned of this whore’s murder. Because there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that it was murder and that he was behind it; he’d make sure of that.
He was certain they thought he’d retreat into the jungles of Colombia or the back alleys of Mexico. But he wasn’t the type to turn tail and run. Those sons of bitches needed to remember he was the heart and soul of the Sinaloan cartel. He wasn’t going anywhere.
He’d gotten word that the Ramirez brothers were holding Caden captive and now he was second-guessing his decision to have ever let her go. He hadn’t counted on them taking such an interest. He had thought it’d be a nice, tidy, little rescue by Diego, but this…He could only guess that they were trying to get information from her about his whereabouts, maybe even trying to get him out of her head by holding her somewhere, but that was never going to happen. Maybe I’ll trade this worthless bitch’s life for my sleeping beauty.
He pulled up beside the bus stop and she leaned down to look in his passenger side window. She raised her hand to her face, resting it just along her brow line to keep the rain from running into her eyes. Her shoulder-length, curly, blonde hair was drenched and lay flat against her scalp.
“Do you need a ride somewhere?”
“No, thanks,” she answered reluctantly.
“I don’t think you remember me. I’m Santiago. I’m a regular at The Club. In fact, Diego’s a good friend of mine.” He lied with ease. It was second nature to him. Half the game was making them trust him. Taking them from being fearful and distrustful to believing they could trust him was a challenge. The best part was when they realized they’d been had and that it was all over — that there wasn’t a damn thing they could do to save themselves from certain death. The only thing they could do at that point was move on to the only emotion left—guilt. He liked that; forcing them to own the bad decision they had made to trust him in the first place. After all, it was their own fault they got killed. He was merely the vessel.
“Well, since you’re friends with my boss, I guess it would be okay.” She opened the car door and jumped into the front seat, laughing as she buckled up. “This is so classic, right?” she giggled, her crystal blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “A single woman, no one waiting for her at home, waiting for a bus in the pouring rain, and someone pulls up and offers her a lift. You’re not some kind of serial killer, are you?”
He chuckled good-naturedly in return, “Well, if I am, here you are in my car so I guess you’ve sealed your fate now.” He gave her a warm look and smiled as he pulled away from the curb. “No…I’m no serial killer.” Yeah. Lying came easy for a guy like him. “Why don’t you take your jacket off? You’re soaked.”
“Yeah, I am. I’m Alicia, by the way,” she answered, struggling with the rain soaked garment. He fingered the syringe in his pocket, forcing himself to keep his breathing nice and steady.
“Yes, I know,” he whispered as she shifted in her seat, unzipping her jacket. As she struggled to extricate her arms from the sleeves, he stabbed the syringe into her upper thigh. She froze and seemed confused as she looked down at her leg, frowning as if what she was seeing didn’t make sense.
Santiago pulled the needle from her flesh and tucked it back in his pocket. She frowned and looked up at him in horror, just long enough to register awareness of her own certain demise. Her eyelids drooped and she swayed in her seat.
“That’s a good girl, Alicia. Now take a nap. We’ll be home before you know it.”
As she struggled against the darkness that swirled around her, her head bobbed up and down on her chest as if she were agreeing with him. Abruptly, she slumped over and collapsed against him. They drove off into the night with her head on his shoulder, looking very much like a couple in love.