Debriefs
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite white boy.”
Sylvie opened the door wide—a shit eating grin on her face. Sporting a short floral dress with surging cleavage, she beckoned for Guero to come inside.
The house was alarmingly similar to one that had belonged to Rubén. One of his men, Danny, met his end on a terrace similar to one they were walking towards. Leigh got a kick out of it every time he described it to her.
“Where’s your girlfriend?”
“She had some things to do,” Guero said, staying alert as they moved through the house. A lifetime habit—one which would be hard to break. Why must he be suspicious of everything and everyone?
“Uh oh, do I detect trouble in paradise?” Sylvie asked, giggling.
She reached out and touched his shoulder, a gesture that had become more frequent as their acquaintance progressed. Guero wondered when he should tell her off. If she pulled any of this shit around Leigh, it was over—quite possibly for them both.
“Time apart can be good,” Guero said vaguely, feeling his buzz slowly fade.
He knew he should have had one more beer. Debriefs with Cavanaugh were soul sucking. Five minutes into the conversation, and it felt as if his grandmother was lecturing him.
“If you need a break, baby, I’m always here,” Sylvie said coyly, moving to open the terrace door. She paused. “Leigh doesn’t have to know.”
“Well, we have a problem then,” Guero said honestly, “Leigh knows everything.”
He reached over, sliding the door open.
“Hello, my friend!” Cavanaugh cried out, rising as Guero entered the terrace. He continued talking as Guero approached. “I certainly made the right choice with you two. Another successful hit last night, my bosses are very pleased.”
“Killing a local gangster doesn’t require much skill,” Guero said, more flatly than he had intended.
Cavanaugh raised his eyebrows.
Guero cursed himself for his terse reply. Leigh was rubbing off on him—he was getting too emotional. Even though this type of work didn’t challenge him, he was beholden to Cavanaugh. Combined with the unknown information about Rachel, the whole arrangement wore thin.
“Well, if you’re complaining about the targets, I’m sure I can arrange something more to your liking,” Cavanaugh replied, clipping off the words. “Have a seat. Sylvie, darling, get us some tequila.”
“Only if I can have some,” she said, departing the terrace with a flirtatious glance at Guero.
“You like Sylvie?” Cavanaugh asked as she exited.
“Not my type,” Guero replied, taking out his phone.
“That’s too bad, she likes you.”
Guero looked up, studying Cavanaugh intently. Despite his best efforts to be collegial, Guero couldn’t shake his dislike of the man.
“After all this time, I barely know the two of you,” Guero said, trying to make up for his earlier rudeness. “Your backgrounds, I mean. Did you spend time in the military?”
He pegged Cavanaugh as a wannabe. Someone who implied they were some Rambo-type—but who probably toiled at a government desk job their entire lives.
“Never served, why?”
“Just wondering.”
“Well, keep your curiosity to yourself,” Cavanaugh said, an edge to his voice as Sylvie re-entered the terrace.
“Hey, we’re all friends here,” she admonished, placing a shot glass in front of Guero—filled to the brim with tequila. Guero eyed it coolly, unable to hide his smile.
“Sylvie, you can give me that whole bottle, and I’m still not going to fuck you.”
Sylvie’s eyes opened wide as Cavanaugh laughed uproariously.
“See? I knew I liked you,” he cried, slapping his knee in amusement.
Guero took his shot in one mouthful, gesturing to Sylvie.
“No offense, you’re a beautiful woman.”
“None taken,” she said, blinking rapidly.
“We’ve done a lot of good work for the Improve Group, haven’t we?” Guero asked, redirecting the conversation.
“Uh oh,” Cavanaugh said, exchanging glances with Sylvie. “What do you want?”
“I think it’s time you provided me with the information on Leigh’s sister,” Guero said, watching for his reaction.
Cavanaugh studied him for a few moments before nodding his head.
“It’s true, you’ve done good work, it’s been—”
“Nine months.”
“Ah, so you’ve been watching the clock.”
“I assume assignments like these are short-term in nature.”
“They are,” Cavanaugh admitted, meeting Guero’s eyes with a smirk.
“And seeing as we’ve done such a good job, I’m thinking seriously about the payout.”
“The white picket fence? House with a pool in Mesa-ico,” Cavanaugh said, referring to the nickname of the Phoenix suburb.
Guero folded his arms, fixing Cavanaugh with a stare.
“Those are the terms we agreed on.”
“Indeed,” Cavanaugh replied after a negligible pause.
He tapped his hands together, looking over at Sylvie.
“Honey, it’s time we put our plan in motion.”
“What plan?” Guero cut in, his senses heightened.
“Reuniting Leigh with her sister,” Cavanaugh responded, offering a slow smile.
Guero remained still, his mind a blur. While he didn’t believe a thing that came out of Cavanaugh’s mouth, he had to know more—Leigh’s happiness depended on it.
“I’ve assumed, and I think Leigh has as well, that Rachel is dead. You’re positive it’s her?” he asked, moving to pour more tequila.
“Yes,” Cavanaugh said, “and it’s quite a story. Bizarre, in fact, not unlike Leigh’s journey to this place,” he said, gesturing around them.
“Leigh belongs here,” Guero said, feeling the impact of the words as he spoke. “She belongs with me.”
“Fair enough,” Cavanaugh said. “But there will be one last assignment. After that, you can say adieu to the Improve Group.”
“What’s the job?” Guero asked.
“Let me arrange the reunion first. I’ll get back to you soon,” Cavanaugh said in a showy voice.
“Gracias.”
Sylvie shifted on the chair across from him, her eyes focused on Cavanaugh. They were hiding something—pressing them for more details would be useless.
“Let’s get this debrief over with,” Guero said, downing another shot.
Sylvie nodded, moving for her tablet. She would take notes on what happened during the hit, noting any evidence that needed to be removed or any witnesses Leigh might have left at the scene.
Guero steadied himself for a long afternoon, trying to keep his thoughts focused. But the nagging feeling in his gut told him they wouldn’t let him walk away that easily.
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