Never Trust a Saint (LOS SANTOS Cartel story #1) Page 13

  Regaining my composure, I saw Gabriel’s eyes watching my sudden reaction, his fingers no longer drumming.

  “You should access your bank account and confirm all the monies are there,” I said, happy his focus would be taken off me for a short period. Using his smartphone, he logged in and we all waited on the edge of our seats. After almost a minute, a broad smile lit up his face and I sent a silent thank you to Alex for being such a genius.

  “Five years! Five fucking years we have been waiting for this,” he yelled, exalted, slapping his hand on the table.

  “Waiting for what?” a voice sounded before the person who owned it entered the room.

  Gabriel beamed. “It’s done. The Florez money is finally ours.”

  “Every bit of it?”

  “Every bit. Not a dollar less.”

  I was silent, unmoving, as I stared at the man who could only be Luis Santos. Judging by Hunter’s reaction, I had guessed right.

  “That is a surprise. I guess I won’t be needing them.” He dismissed the two men who had traveled in behind him. They took their position on the far wall. Judging by their appearance, I pinned them to be the clean-up crew.

  “It was easy,” Gabriel confirmed. “Possibly too easy.” His voice was once again laced with suspicion but the numbers didn’t lie.

  “And who is this?” The man who had thick white hair and matching beard cast his eyes upon me. He was dressed well, possibly in designer clothes but he wore a particularly disinterested look about him. I could see why Gabriel, though not his son, was trying hard to at least impress the man who seemed bored at almost everything. Not even a deposit of twenty-six million could turn the corners of his lips.

  “The one who made it all happen,” Gabriel answered on my behalf.

  There was a pause as Luis Santos studied me. “You look familiar.”

  I didn’t answer for the simple reason that I wanted to see how long it would take for him to figure out he had connections with my father.

  “She’s FBI,” Gabriel spoke up. “She’s also half Sinaloa.”

  Recognition flicked and I bit my tongue. “FBI and Sinaloa. Now that does ring a bell.” An evil grin slowly spread across his smug face and would have given the world to smack it off. He couldn’t smile over inheriting a hefty fortune, yet the recollection of my slain father was apparently enough of a reason. “Following in your father’s footsteps, I see?”

  “Much like you two, I guess,” I said, looking between him and Gabriel.

  Luis Santos cocked his head to the side in question. “Are you like your daddy?”

  “My father was a good man.”

  “He went to work, made a decent living, put food on the table, demonstrated fatherly love, but do you know how he managed to do all that, Ms. Cross?”

  That was it, he had pieced it all together. But I wasn’t going to sit and take his bullshit.

  “Whatever my father did was out of necessity.”

  Luis Santos looked around the room in mock surprise. “Necessity you say. Explain that to the many fathers who go to work every day, make a decent living, put food on the table, only to come home one night and find their child laying on the bathroom floor having overdosed on drugs.”

  “What’s this got to do with me?”

  “Your daddy allowed distribution through his district for a slice of the pie.” He waited for my reaction and after the shock of his confession, I finally managed one.

  “He would never have done that. He was anti-drugs. He fought the war on it.”

  He nodded as if he knew that already. “To the public, he was very convincing.”

  I was aware that I was shaking.

  I was also aware that Hunter’s eyes were pleading with me to stop.

  But I quickly realized that I was now here to avenge the death of two people I loved.

  “Did you kill my father?”

  “Yes,” he said it with ease, without remorse, like it had just been another day. “He closed off the district, came down hard on my distributors. Do you know the demand for premium grade cocaine through New York City alone? Can you imagine how much I would’ve lost had he remained in the picture? He was once loyal. He took my money when he worked for me and he wanted to rob me of money when he took a step back. I don’t play like that Ms. Cross.”

  “You killed someone’s husband, someone’s father. My father!”

  “And he killed hundreds of children, husbands and wives. He helped drive a wedge between families.”

  I had morphed into full-blown rage. Jumping off the chair, it fell backward on the floor. How dare this hypocrite preach to me?

  “And what of your role? You don’t feel as though you should claim responsibility of it since you produce it?”

  “I lost my conscience a long time ago, my dear.”

  “That’s your excuse? That’s your motherfucking excuse?”

  Was he for real?

  “This is business and this is how business works.”

  “You have taken two people I care about out of this world,” I seethed, despising the man who appeared unaffected by my words.

  “Do you want to join them?”

  “Go fuck yourself!”

  Luis Santos scoffed seemingly bored of his retelling of my father’s murder. “Who brought this bitch here?” He looked around the room at all the men who averted eye contact.

  “Our man, Hunter,” Gabriel said with a knowing smile. It was a smile that was leading to something. A smile that promised that things were far from over. I didn’t like it one bit.

  “Show me.”

  Gabriel rounded on Hunter and pulled the shirt neckline over his shoulder where the tattoo of the Virgin Mary sat tarnishing his skin. Luis Santos looked at it with disinterest.

  “Well then, Hunter, perhaps you should end all this and I will give you your cut and you can get the fuck out of my house.”

  Silence descended the room as I waited with bated breath. What did he mean, end it?

  “You talk?” Santos barked annoyed at the non-compliance. He pulled a gold revolver from his waistband and slid it across the table until it stopped just shy of Hunter. He eyed it and didn’t move.

  My stomach plummeted, my heart lodging itself firmly in my throat.

  “Answer me, boy.” Santos appeared on his last nerve.

  “I hear you,” was all Hunter replied. There was a standoff of unspoken words passing between them, but they may as well have been shouting. My fingers were gripping the table edge so hard I could feel my nails snapping.

  I watched, mortified, as Hunter rose from his chair, revolver in hand. He locked eyes with mine, his face void of expression. He wasn’t revealing anything, whether this was part of his plan or whether he truly was going to end me.

  There was no hint.

  No cue to run.

  My eyes pricked with tears at the deception I was once again feeling. He had targeted me from the beginning way back in New York. He’d brought me here against my will knowing I would have no part of it. He lied about getting me out alive just to keep me playing ball. It had always been about the money. He would shoot to ensure he got his cut. How much? How much did he consider my soul to be?

  “Kneel,” he ordered with an ice-cold tone.

  “Hunter?” his name came out as a whisper, my body trembling.

  He raised his revolver, aiming it at my chest. “Get on the fucking ground,” he ordered again. Everyone in the room watched on, the satisfied smile on Luis Santos face was one of the last things I would see.

  That and the man who betrayed me.

  I had been ordered twice, yet I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place too frightened to budge. When Hunter’s arm swept fast to the right, shooting a bullet into the ceiling as a warning, I fell to the ground sobbing, begging, hoping he would listen to my pleas.

  “Please, Hunter. Don’t do this.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” he spat angrily, now holding the barrel to my forehead. We both stayed in positio
n for a few beats—me too scared to do or say anything, and him overcome with internal conflict. He stared at me, nostrils flaring and I could see his eyes soften if only for a moment. “I’m sorry, cariña.”

  “No,” I broke down squeezing my eyes closed. “Ple—”

  A bullet fired and I was knocked to the side. Within microseconds the room erupted into chaos, the urgent shouts of those around me intermitted with the sounds of their firing guns. Instead of taking my life, Hunter had turned his attention and weapon to Los Santos members. Joining me, he took cover behind the table as splinters of wood flew like daggers around us. The table had a solid base on each end offering much-needed protection. The revolver was replaced with his own Glock as both sides continued the shootout. Then, as if it never happened, the room fell silent. Peering around the corner, I saw two dead men, both of whom had followed in Luis Santos.

  “Are you okay?” Hunter asked, changing his magazine and winding on a silencer.

  “Yes,” I stammered, swiping at a trickle of blood dripping close to my eye. I must have hit my head on the table base when I fell. “You’re a mighty fine actor.” I couldn’t hide my relief that he was still on my side.

  He turned, his lips twitching and he rewarded me with a wink.

  My insides turned to mush.

  Handing me the revolver, his eyes widened in question. “Ready?”

  “Let’s get out of here,” I agreed, following his lead. I knew there was a job to complete before we made our escape. We needed to put an end to Los Santos bloodline.

  Navigating through the house, guns poised to take aim, a wave of nerves washed over me. The house had fallen deathly quiet, almost like they were lying in wait.

  “We have five minutes to end this,” Hunter spoke softly.

  I didn’t have time to respond. A bullet whizzed past my head narrowly missing my left ear, its impact creating a neat hole in the drywall. We both ducked, spinning on our toes shooting at the target. It wasn’t a man I recognized but was a guard on the estate. He fell, two crimson colored blooms forming on his chest. Slumping against the wall with his eyes open, it dawned on me that I had just taken my first life. I may have been an FBI agent, but dealing with criminal fraud was hardly life threatening and had never resulted in me un-holstering my service weapon.

  A strong hand wrapped around my wrist pulling me to my feet. Perhaps he could see I was visibly shaken, but I let Hunter lead me through the house until we came to the kitchen.

  Coming to a stop behind the entry, I followed the hand signals given. From what I could see from my vantage point, the space was large and could serve as an ambush. Hunter made the first move rounding the corner, Glock pointing around the room. He gestured for me to follow and I swallowed hard feeling sweat dripping from my palms. I wasn’t cut out for this.

  We made it half way across the kitchen when our plans took a turn for the worst.

  “I always knew you were a snake,” Gabriel’s voice was loaded with contempt and we stopped in our tracks.

  He had entered through the side door, no doubt waiting for us. His Glock waved between us as he spat his disdain.

  “Fucking her the whole time and fucking us over while you were at it. And you call yourself a Santos?”

  “It’s just business,” Hunter’s gravelly tone carried the authority that made anyone stand to attention.

  “Well, I too am a man of business and this my friend,” he pointed the gun at me, “is just business.” I saw Gabriel’s wicked grin above the barrel of the gun as he fired. Instead of falling back from the force, I was knocked to the side, Hunter’s arm wrapped around my waist as we stumbled to the ground behind the bench and out of view of our attacker.

  I wasn’t hurting.

  I didn’t feel any pain.

  But my skin and dress were covered in blood.

  Something fierce connected with my stomach, a booted foot, the force tearing me from Hunter’s arm and sending me sprawling across the floor.

  I had no breath to cry or scream, only a searing heat attacking my abdomen. The blow left me winded, gasping frantically for air as I rolled on my side. Gabriel now stood over the top of Hunter, volatile threats exchanged between the two.

  A deep guttural groan, one loaded with suffering filled the room, breaking my heart. Suddenly all the blood made sense. I watched in horror as Gabriel taunted, jamming his fist against a bullet wound on Hunter’s chest causing blood to gush out of the opening of his shirt pooling and spilling over the nape of his neck.

  Staggering to my feet, sans my gun that had slid out of sight when I was booted, I opted for a beautiful glass blown bowl from the large table. Advancing toward Gabriel, who was still bent at the waist, I moved to smash my weapon of choice over his head. He intercepted, knocking it from my hands causing it to shatter on the ground. Raging and full of determination, his hand wrapped around my throat as he straightened. His eyes were bulging in their sockets and he truly looked like a crazy man. Gabriel dug his fingers in deep holding me in place long enough to receive a backhand across the cheek. He released me, letting the momentum of the slap drop me to the ground. It stung like all glory and as another trail of blood ran down my chin I knew his chunky ruby ring had torn open my skin.

  Despite being severely wounded, Hunter roared to life, the sole of his shoe smashing into Gabriel’s shin. Dropping the Glock, his body contorted from the brutal force as he stumbled back. Before Gabriel could regain his composure, Hunter rolled to the side, pulling me underneath as a protective shield. Taking aim at the coward fleeing around the counter, he fired, hitting Gabriel in the shoulder. What followed was an initial grunt of pain and then silence.

  We waited but there was no aftermath. Taking that as a sign to make a move, Hunter struggled to get to his feet. He was on all fours, blood dripping in a straight line onto the floor beneath as he regained some balance.

  “Hunter!” I mumbled through the tears. Catching him under his arms, I lifted him straight. He had paled considerably and my heart broke.

  He was a mess.

  No thanks to Gabriel, he’d lost and was still losing a considerable amount of blood. Instinctively, I placed my hand over the wound trying to stop the steady stream, yet it just seeped between my fingers. He had saved me from the same fate, yet unlike him, I doubted I would still be alive.

  “Jesus! I’m so sorry.” I was now crying, heat flooding my cheeks as I pushed another wave of tears free.

  “I’m fine, cariña,” he assured, regaining his composure. “I need to get you out of here.”

  “How can I—”

  The muffled sound of Hunter’s silencer by my ear cut short my sentence. There was no time to scream, no time duck. Instead, all I could do was watch another of Santos’s men fall in a heap on the ground.

  “Come, cariña.” Hunter took my hand but I pulled free to search the kitchen drawers. He watched me confusion until I found what I was looking for. Finding a hand towel, I flattened it down under Hunter’s shirt covering the wound. He hissed when I pulled the fabric of his shirt away from his mutilated skin.

  “I’m sorry. Hopefully, it will stop some of the bleeding.”

  Gripping my forearm he pulled me close, his lips connecting with mine in a kiss that told of his urgency, his desire, his sorrow, and his need for forgiveness.

  Breaking away, his bloodstained hand held mine. Leading me through the door Gabriel had both appeared and disappeared through, we saw smears of his blood staining the walls, his injuries hopefully life threatening.

  I only hoped we found the fucker dead.

  The front door was open and with both our guns in position we scanned the yard looking for the leftovers. I knew Hunter’s objective was to end Luis Santos but in his current condition, I needed to convince him to get to the hospital.

  I could see he was suffering.

  I could also see he was doing his best to conceal it from me.

  “The black car,” Hunter pointed. We hot footed over to it, scanning ou
r surroundings with every step. Rounding the vehicle, he smashed the window with his elbow and unlocked the door. I maintained a lookout, but I could feel it. We were being watched. But from where? Squinting, I looked closer, inspecting dark shadows that seem to move across the land. It’s like they could sense my fear.

  Hearing the door unlock, I climbed in to join Hunter, who was already hot-wiring the car. He was on edge, eyes darting between the wires and what lay in wait for us when our guard was dropped.

  “I need to get you back across the border.” There was no messing with his tone. He revved the engine and threw it into gear. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of hope as we careered down the drive.

  “Let’s just go to the hospital. No one will target us there.” I was desperate to get him seen to. I didn’t know how much longer he would last.

  He shook his head, eyes glued to the road. “No cariña, my priority is to get you safe like I promised and then I will return.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” I swiveled in my seat to face him. “You do realize the current state you’re in. And besides, Luis Santos will be long gone by the time you get back.”

  “He’ll be heading to Veracruz, possibly to go off-shore.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “That man you saw with us yesterday and today?”

  He was referring to No-Name. “What about him?”

  “His name is John Chambers. He was to be Luis Santos’s driver should he actually make it. He also works for me.” Hunter cast me a knowing look. “For a price. Everything comes with a price around here.” He clasped my hand, his thumb working calming circles. “Thank you for your role in this even if my actions were unorthodox. You played them perfectly.” A small smile crept on his lips. “It was impressive.”

  “No, all we’ve managed to do is piss them off. Luis Santos is still out there and soon he’ll know it was a scam.”

  “No, cariña. You being here in Mexico brought Luis Santos to our doorstep. Until then he was untraceable. Without you, he would still be hiding out in a place where he would even lose himself. But now, he’s out and I will find him.” He sighed heavily and once again I could hear the remorse. “I just never expected to receive the order to kill you.”