Bikini Optional, Gun Required
*NSFW*
Leigh strode confidently to the front of the line. When they first started working for Cavanaugh, she would have come much earlier, allowing more than enough time to find her mark. These days, she let Guero do the legwork. Killing for hire had lost its luster. It was all becoming routine. And if there was one thing that Leigh hated, it was the monotonous grind of habit.
“Name?” the goon asked, gripping the guest list as if it were a sacred relic.
“Gia Moretti,” Leigh replied.
She often used her frenemy’s name as an alias. It was one Leigh ruminated on more frequently than she wished. Perhaps the events of their last meeting had something to do with that. Leigh saw it often enough in her dreams, Gia screaming, clutching at Eva’s hands as she held her down. Leigh felt paralyzed in the moment, unable to muster much complaint as she traded Gia for free passage out of Mexico.
Sometimes she woke to her screams.
“Through the detector,” the man said, not hiding his imploring gaze at Leigh’s breasts, held precariously in place by an itsy-bitsy bikini top.
Snapping out of her reverie, Leigh skipped through the detector, smiling as the next goon approached her.
“Hands up.”
“Are you serious? I’m not wearing anything,” she said.
“I said, hands up,” he grunted, eyes boring into hers.
Offering an aggrieved sigh, Leigh complied, gazing out at the line of guests as he frisked her. Most of the women were dressed in little to no clothing, and all but a few had the Day of the Dead makeup on.
“Like Halloween in the springtime,” Leigh said to herself, as the guard completed his cursory review. “What, no full cavity?” she mused as he gestured for her to move along.
Leigh fell into a line of guests as she made her way to the entrance—a massive wooden door framed by two gigantic pillars. She drew closer, realizing the looming stone structures were actually ancient Mayan columns. She studied their elaborate design, tutting internally. Such displays of wealth were a classic rookie mistake. The most powerful men she knew were also the most unassuming. It was the young bucks Leigh could spot a mile away, and they also caught the attention of the Improve Group. Their “assignments” were supposed to keep Cancun safe for the tourists, and Cavanaugh had been unrelenting in the number of hits he ordered—all focusing on the new crop of cartel wannabes.
Leigh wondered more than once how the Improve Group picked its targets. Of course, they weren’t keen on sharing this information. And even if Leigh wanted to ask, she couldn’t. Guero kept her far away from Cavanaugh. She hadn’t even met the man. Her boyfriend said it was necessary to maintain a buffer between the two. Cavanaugh assigned the hit to Guero, who worked the job for Leigh. By design, she had become Guero’s personal hit squad. The irony wasn’t lost on Leigh. They had exchanged one cartel for another. The work was virtually identical, though the payout differed.
Today’s job was no different from its predecessors. Edgardo Perez had a reputation for exceptional greed and cruelty. So obsessed with the riches from his violent acts, he apparently got ahead of himself and pissed off the wrong people. Leigh knew better than to ask questions, but she wondered whether someone at the top was pulling the right strings. It was almost as if they were making things easier for the more established cartels. Who, for their part, only seemed interested in expanding their wealth by making Cancun into a Disney resort. It was an odd path of divergent desires. The young gangsters wanted to be like the cartels, and the cartels wanted to be like Walmart.
Walking past the columns, Leigh spotted another layer of security—yet more guards frisking guests.
Good thing I left my machete at home, she thought, taking her turn in line.
Pushing past a woman covered in body paint and not much else, Leigh walked into a massive great room.
“Hmm, this might be the reason for the security,” Leigh murmured to herself, smiling as she studied the scene before her.
Like sorority rush week—except with way more money. Party guests snorted lines of cocaine off priceless works of art. Half-naked girls writhed about on pedestals. The pounding music was so loud, Leigh could feel her teeth rattling.
Surveying the crowd for a short, Puerto Rican man, she came up empty. She sat down on a long, white couch, watching a young blonde do a line of coke long enough to make a rockstar blush.
“Feeling good, lady?” Leigh asked, as the girl flipped her head back—hair cascading down her shoulders.
“Your makeup is like, oh my god, so fucking amazing.”
The girl reached out to touch her face. Leigh took her hand and gently pushed it away.
“Where’s the man of the hour?” she asked, eyeing the neat pile of white powder.
She never touched the stuff, preferring the bottle as her drug of choice.
“Perez likes to watch from the video feed,” the girl said nonchalantly, her eyes watering.
Leigh felt her pulse quicken. Casually, she surveyed the room, spotting cameras positioned near the ceiling. Thank God for the makeup—Perez had wired the whole house.
“Where does he watch?” Leigh asked as the girl looked around distractedly. Leigh handed her a glass of champagne from the side table. “Here you go.”
“Oh, thanks,” the woman said, taking a sip. “He’s in his office, down the hall. Shuts himself in there and watches the party. Random, huh?”
“Totes,” Leigh said.
A line of blood trickled down from the girl’s nose.
Rising, Leigh tossed her a crumpled napkin.
“Your nose is bleeding,” she said, moving toward the hallway.
Squeezing through the crowd, Leigh started to get nervous. The place was packed. If things went down, it might be difficult getting out of the party. Then again, there were enough people to cause the right amount of confusion. It could go either way. As usual, Leigh would have to be on her toes.
Trying not to think about it, she entered the hall, spotting a line for what appeared to be a bathroom.
“This can’t be it,” she muttered.
Walking towards the end of the line, Leigh spotted an adjacent corridor. Feeling a glimmer of recognition, she walked quickly toward it. Just before she reached it, a guard the size of a prizefighter moved in front of her.
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