“Know many of them, do ya?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“That’s too bad. This egotistical maniac is pretty fun once you get to know him.”
“I will just have to live with the regret of never knowing.”
I will just have to agree to disagree. I grab for the gun and lean right as I rotate it out of her hand. It goes off and narrowly misses my shoulder, but I expected that to happen. In the darkness, we dance a lethal tango, and before she even knows it, I have her trapped against my body in a choke hold with her own gun pointed at her head. “You were saying, darlin’?”
Taking a second of reprieve, I feel her heavy breaths expand and contract in her rib cage.
“I was saying…” She stomps on my foot, then elbows me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. She then tosses me over her shoulder and kicks me in the face with her chunky-ass military boot. “I was saying I will just have to live with the regret!” Her voice trails off into the dark distance as she runs away. I just lie there in the dirt rubbing my sore cheek. I think I’m in love.
Footsteps launch me into high alert. I grab the gun and sit up. “Back for more?” But it’s not my tough chick. No, it’s a dude. I caught him by surprise, so he only has a second to react, swinging a shotgun in my direction. I don’t hesitate. I shoot, and he goes down. Then, I get up and run. I’ve had just about enough of theHunger GamesI can take. I find a girthy tree and climb, hoping there isn’t any creepy crawlies waiting for me. I climb until I can peek out over the treetops and get a bird’s-eye view of the star-studded sky and the pillowy-white moon overhead. For now, I’m safe.
I listen to the harmonies of the forest while overhearing the unnatural sounds of gunshots and combative human interaction. I wonder how many of us are left. Wonder who will emerge at daybreak. I’m sure of only one thing. I will be walking out of this forest alive and become a Deltoro. That’s the goal, the mission, the only option. I need them as much as they need me. And tomorrow I’ll prove it.
* * *
Loud,sharp bird tweets snap me out of my slumber-like haze. I wasn’t really sleeping, just resting my eyes and my body with a conscious awareness. The sounds alert me it's morning, and I crack my eyes open to a soft glow of sunrise that illuminates the treetops in golds and oranges. It’s a sight, for sure. One, unfortunately, I can’t enjoy for too long.
I climb down the trunk of the tree, wondering if an ambush is waiting for me. I take precautions. You can never be too careful with the word of a cartel member. Things seem to be quiet as I stalk through the woods with the gun in my hand. A dewy, sweet, earthy scent perforating from the forest.
I look for the red ties my tough chick told us about, eventually finding them, and follow them to the meeting point.
I spy out into the clearing before I emerge. There sits my tough chick on a Harley with a black van parked beside her.
Still holding the gun, I step cautiously from the cover of the tree line.
When she sees me, she actually smirks. I walk toward her until we are several feet apart.
“You made it.”
“You doubted me?”
She doesn’t respond. She just stares into my soul with those kohl-rimmed, hazel eyes. Dark and mysterious, just like her.
She slips off the bike and makes her way to the van where she fishes around in a dark duffel bag sitting on the hood.
“Think fast.” She tosses me a flip phone. “Burner. You’ll receive a text with a place and time. Be there.”
“A place and time for what?”
“You’ll see. Now close your eyes. Time to go home.”
I know this drill. They did it when they brought us here. A blindfold goes over my eyes, and the world goes black. “This is mine, by the way,” she buzzes in my ear as she slips the Glock out of my hand.
It’s only a brief second, but her skin on mine feels electric. A dynamic charge that juices through my body. It’s a dangerous attraction, but the prospect of danger has never stopped me before.
I’m pushed into the van by two meaty hands. The door slams shut, and I live to see another day.
2
Dove
Stefania Deltoro peersdown through the office window.
The red lights of the night club glow against her buttery, olive skin. She’s dressed like the girl boss she is, in a button-up blouse and skin-tight pencil skirt with stilettos so sharp they could stab you straight through the heart.
