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Chapter Twenty-One
Ambros
“Hey. How was your flight?” Xava asks as I finally walk into my hotel room. Even hearing her voice over the phone makes me feel good.
I traveled from Greece all the way to Mexico so I could complete one of the most important kills of my life. Ruslan asked for my help, and within twelve hours, he’ll no longer have to worry about Julio Ramirez attempting to harm anyone else in his family.
“It wasn’t bad. I had a couple bouts of turbulence because of storms. Other than that, it was fine. How are things going today?” Xava applied to a very prominent pastry school in Paris. She’s talked about it non-stop for the last few days, and I know she’s going to be accepted. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that she will be. Honestly, I’m sure Ruslan has already made a couple of calls to the school to ensure she does get in.
“Good. I’m relieved.” Xava’s tone drops, and I’m certain if I was right there with her, I’d notice her staring off into the distance. She always has such an intense stare when her tone of voice drops like this.
“You okay? Sounds like I lost you.”
“I’m okay, just annoyed. I didn’t tell you about this yet because I was trying to wrap my own head around it, but I met up with my adoptive mother for lunch the other day. I thought it would be good for me to speak to her face-to-face. I figured we’d chat, and then we’d hash out some of our conflict points, maybe even get some closure or clarity.”
“How’d the lunch end up going?” I don’t know why Xava thinks she needs to tell me about things straight away. If she struggles with something, she can speak to me whenever she’s ready. She shouldn’t have any guilt associated with that.
“It didn’t.” Xava scoffs. “We were barely five minutes into it when she told me I needed to return to Prague. That’s why she wanted to see me, not so we could talk or try to repair our relationship, but because I didn’t belong in Grozny in her eyes. I grew up in Prague, and my family is there, so she thought that’s where I was supposed to be, too. It’s fucking ridiculous. I didn’t even get to ask her about some things I’ve been wondering about. That’s the part that really pisses me off. She didn’t even give me the opportunity to speak about important things we needed to talk about.”
“Well, I’m sure there will be another time when you can discuss it.”
“I don’t think so. I think I’ve realized that she’s not someone I want in my life, Ambros. As much as it saddens me to say that, I don’t know if I’m supposed to have her in my life. Then she mentioned how she heard people have been trying to kill me, and I thought to myself, ‘How does she know that?’ I ended up talking to Eset, and Eset confessed that my adoptive mother had reached out to her to ‘check’ on me. Eset told her what was happening.”
“Let me play devil’s advocate here, but do you think she was asking you to go back to Prague because she was worried about you? She did raise you, Xava. Deep down, she has to care about you in some way.”
“I honestly don’t know. I really don’t. I just think, at this point in my life, I need to step away from my relationship with her. Maybe in a couple of years, we can push our differences aside and try to talk it out, but I don’t think I can do that right now. I feel like our relationship is based on lies and mistrust… and I want some space from the situation.”
“Okay, I won’t push you to do anything you don’t want to.” It’s not my job to force Xava into anything. Family issues are complicated, and God knows I have my own fair share of those.
“Thank you. Yara and I are going to head out and get some food with Rolando, but call me in a few hours if you’re not too busy?”
“I will. Have a great time out,” I tell Xava, and then we both hang up the phone and say our goodbyes.
I get settled in my hotel room and make a couple of calls to people who work with the Organization. I’m able to find out that Julio has three cell phones, and they’re all pinging from a tower not too far away from me.
My job is simple: kill Julio.
I know he’s in El Conejo, so he can hide out. It’s a smaller town in the Tamaulipas region of Mexico. Directly located off Route 116, it gives anyone the ability to jump on the interstate and get the hell out. I doubt Julio knows anyone is actively looking for him. He probably thinks this is a good place to stay while he’s doing everything he is to the Umarova family. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he realizes they’ve sent one of the big dogs after him.
I get a text from one of my hackers at the Organization, who tells me he’s been able to ping Julio’s actual location. He sends me a link, and I tap on it, seeing a blue dot on a map. Anywhere Julio moves, even slightly, shows up on this link. God, I’m lucky to work with some of the best men in the business.
I’m at a smaller hotel on the edge of town and paid for the best suite there. I even paid the receptionist in the front a bit extra for discretion, not wanting her to talk about me to any of the locals. The last thing I need is for her to talk about me, then say to a friend how a Greek man is here. Julio knows my family, and I’m certain he’d be alarmed if the news got to him.
Before I left, I thought about what I was going to do. If I was going to shoot him, or if I’d strangle him with my belt. So many options ran through the forefront of my mind, and I thought of something better. A bit bloodier, and it will send a message that going against the Umarova family is not tolerated whatsoever.
The dot on my phone moves closer to the Iglesia Catolica De La Virgen Del Carmen, the only church in town. I’d hate to kill him in a church, but it’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last that I take someone out this way. At least when I kill them inside a religious building, they’re not too far from the cemetery.
I leave my hotel room and proceed to exit the building, taking my rental car from the hotel all the way out to the church. My phone still tells me he’s here, but now he’s inside the building, so I park my car and exit it. I lock it in the process and slide my keys inside my pants pocket before I reach the church door.
The church looks like it’s been here for a long time, maybe a few hundred years. The outside is made up of some sort of concrete block, and there’s been more concrete painted over it, so you can’t see the lines. On top of that is a very faded-out cream color. My guess is it’s sun damage over the years.
There’s a small veranda on the front steps to shield patrons from the blazing sun or maybe the occasional torrential downpour. Placing my gloved hand on the old, worn-out bronze door handle, I push the door open. It’s green and looks like it had a lot of life left in it many years ago. Now, the wood is starting to bow in the middle, and the different parts of it are swelling and cracking. Either this place hasn’t been taken care of because of people’s choices, or they don’t have the money to make the upgrades they need.
After I’m inside, I shut the door, and the inside looks just as bad as the outside. The floor is a mixture of what looks to be vinyl, and then that material narrows out while dirt takes its place. Church pews sit on either side of a central aisle in six rows, and even they look like they’ve seen better days. This is a Catholic church, so why isn’t the Catholic Church helping them fund upgrades?
Near the front of the church is who I can only assume to be Julio. He’s kneeling at the front, praying to someone while holding a rosary.
I slowly walk up behind him and notice he’s speaking lowly in Spanish. I’m not sure what he’s saying because his words are coming out in a mere whisper, though as I grow closer to him, I can tell he’s worried. He tenses up and straightens his back up a bit, beginning to turn. The moment he fully faces me, I collide my closed fist with his nose. A loud pop rings out between us, and he jolts backward as he tries to process what just happened.
