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“What kind of job am I doing for you?”
Strangely, this unnerves me more than fucking him sans protection twice within twenty-four hours does. Sex has already been ruined by Diego. It holds no sanctity to me.
My conscience, on the other hand? That’s been fairly clean relative to the life I’ve led. Dipping into criminal activity for Jaguar would be a new, untread territory.
As if sensing my discomfort, he inclines his head toward me and flashes his characteristic smirk.
“Oh no, Lupe. I won’t spoil the surprise. I’ll be around to pick you up in the morning. Ten. Be on time. You can meet me in the lobby.”
He drops me off at Pedro’s apartment, and I enter the building alone. After taking a long shower, and staring at myself in the mirror for even longer, I still can’t figure out what has gotten into me. I should have taken the money I won and bought a plane ticket to California first thing. I should be hunting down a mercenary who can procure Franco. I should be shaking down Braulio. I should be…
Doing anything but screwing a man so dangerous, the entire world trembles at the sound of his name.
CHAPTEREIGHT
The prospect of “working” for him makes me too nervous to sleep. When morning rolls around, I text Pedro to let him know I’m okay, then I spend the rest of my time deciding what to wear. Pedro’s salesgirl provided me with outfits intended for wearing while hanging from a narco’s arm, not working for him.
At least in any other capacity than the obvious one.
In this one instance, however, I have a little experience of what “narco work” entails. Diego made the bulk of his money running errands for powerful men and forging his own empire in the shadows. The only use he had for women was as whores or drug mules.
Braulio is the same—even I once worked for him, though unwillingly.
Could Jaguar have a similar use in mind for me? In the end, I quell my curiosity by getting dressed and settle on a modest gray dress with short sleeves and a low pair of black heels. My hair, I arrange in the typical bun, and I enter the lobby ready for whatever I might face.
The first surprise is that Jaguar isn’t who comes for me. I don’t recognize the man in the front seat of a luxury sedan, but he greets me with a nod and gestures for me to take the seat beside him.
“Morning, Ms. Sanchez,” he says. “Mr. Domingas sends you his blessings.”
I try not to hear a threat in the greeting.
“Can I ask what he has in mind exactly?”
The man shoots me a look that warns I won’t be getting any answers from him.
“Enjoy the drive, Miss. We will arrive at our destination momentarily.”
Trips into the unknown are hard to enjoy. Reassuringly, we don’t venture far beyond the city, but I don’t recognize the area we wind up in. It seems classy, with high-priced buildings that mainly contain offices.
When the driver finally parks before one of the tallest buildings, I’m not sure what to expect. For him to hand me a ski mask and a gun to rob the place?
Instead, he gives me a business card.
“You have an appointment with this man in ten minutes. Mr. Domingas does not appreciate lateness. You are to ask for the usual transfer of accounts. The most important part? If you notice anything odd, you report it to me, and therefore you report it to Mr. Domingas. Understood?”
When I nod, the man exits the car to open the door on my end.
The building itself looks like a fancy extension of a bank—but not the average local branch. This is where men with real money deal. Somewhere even Braulio wouldn’t dare set foot.
But why send me?
There aren’t many explanations I can think of. None that a man like Jaguar couldn’t take care of himself or via someone far more capable than me. Therefore, this is clearly a test.
Focus Pita.I can’t let myself be rattled. Clearing my head of all distractions, I follow the name on the business card and soon find myself ushered inside a massive corner office. Behind a wide desk sits a man who looks like the stereotypical accountant. He’s white with neatly coifed brown hair and blue eyes that shift uneasily behind the wire frames of his glasses.
“You must be Ms. Sanchez,” he says, standing to shake my hand. “Our mutual friend warned me of your visit. As you will soon see, everything is in order. There is no reason for Mr. Domingas to have any concerns.”
He gestures to a row of documents lying on the desk. They appear to be various legal documents at first glance. Why would Jaguar want me to see this?
