Standoff

Leigh paced back and forth on the patio—unsure of what to do next. The hotel staff delivered a new cell phone that morning, after retrieving Guero’s car from Señor Sapos. Leigh had been calling his number repeatedly. The line went straight to voicemail each time.

She tried to eat, but nothing tasted right. The fruit salad she ordered was sickeningly sweet, and the salad made her retch. Feeling dizzy, Leigh sat down, stretching her aching back. The familiar wave of nausea came over her as she brought her knees to her ears in the fetal position.

“Breathe,” she told herself.

She felt fuzzy, disoriented, and incredibly tired. This was not the time to be coming down with something—she needed to figure out where Guero was. Leigh thought again about Cavanaugh’s dramatic offer the previous night.

“You fucking idiot,” she said aloud. “How could you fall for it?”

She took a slow breath, trying to calm her erratic thoughts. Cavanaugh knew she would act rashly to meet her sister. It was a carefully orchestrated setup—intended to seize one or both of them. Leigh resisted the familiar pull of emotions. Lost sisters notwithstanding, Guero was her life—she had to find him.

If he went in pursuit of her last night, it was likely he walked into a similar trap. Flipping through her messages from Sylvie, Leigh paused on the group photo of DJ Chac.

If Gia were alive, she would hold a grudge. Was she behind Guero’s disappearance?

Feeling her stomach flip, Leigh knew she had to get answers, starting with Cavanaugh.

She texted Sylvie, requesting a meeting. The reply came immediately.

Lunch at our place, come alone.

Guero woke, a musty smell hitting his nostrils. He opened his eyes, careful to keep his body motionless. Someone had placed a bag over his face—the stink from the fabric must have roused him. Controlling his breathing, he took a moment to orient himself. Hands bound behind his back, Guero felt leather behind him—a car, then, an expensive one.

Before he had time to orient himself further, the bag was unceremoniously ripped from his head. He blinked, taking a second to adjust, before he quickly registered the situation. He was in a car, between two grumpy-looking foot soldiers. Across from him sat one of the notorious Beltran brothers—Carlos Beltran. Guero had his brother killed a few years ago. He thought no one had found out, but perhaps he had been mistaken. But it wasn’t Carlos’s appearance that surprised him; his widow’s peak and gut were unchanged from when he last saw them. No, it was the blonde seated next to him—a huge smile on her beautiful face.

“Remember me?” Gia cooed, placing an arm around Beltran.

“Hey, white boy,” Beltran snapped, “you turned snitch, huh? I should have fucking known you’d turn cop.”

Guero slowly processed the words. So, Beltran hadn’t picked him up for revenge. Then why was he here? He uttered the first name that had occurred to him.

“Cavanaugh.”

An evil smile formed on Beltran’s face.

“You’re trusting the wrong people, Guero! He’s doing a better job than any of my fucking people could.”

“You’re working with the Improve Group,” Guero said, feeling his stomach turn as the pieces fell together in one horrifying heap. “Let me guess, you’re the ones picking their targets.”

“Anyone can pick the targets,” Beltran snarled, his head swiveling on his short, fat neck. “The jobs go to the highest bidder. You’ve grown soft in the brain.” He jabbed a finger at him, smiling in a way that awoke Guero’s direst forebodings.

Guero felt the bindings behind him, felt the suffocating heat of the car. Neither of them seemed to mind. Gia’s complexion was flawless, and Beltran looked as cool as a cucumber. Guero felt a rivulet of sweat run down his back.

“It’s that American you’re fucking,” Beltran continued, oblivious to the nationality of the girl seated next to him. “Now I’ve got you. Get ready to see how we treat snitches around here.”

Letting the threat wash over him, Guero studied Gia. Noting his interest, she winked at him.

“You thought I was dead, admit it,” she said, blue eyes sparkling.

“You bought her?” Guero asked Beltran, who chuckled in response.

“If you don’t like running into old friends, you shouldn’t leave them lying around.”

“Is that what this is, a reunion?” Guero asked, wondering about Leigh’s whereabouts.

If they had her, they’d surely be gloating about it. No, Leigh was safe—for now.

“It works both ways. This little kitten here,” Beltran said, touching Gia’s face softly before continuing. “She was eager to get even. It’s a dog-eat-dog world—you know that. Shame on you, Guero. Rubén and I always had an understanding.”

“He won’t be pleased,” Guero said.

“Fuck him, Cavanaugh will take care of Rubén.”

“And then? Are you next in line?” Guero continued in Spanish.

Gia’s eyes flashed.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you,” she replied in that language, smiling as she took in his surprise.

She adjusted her coiffure, her blonde curls cascading down her slim shoulders. Guero never was one for blondes, but even he could see the power Gia wielded with her beauty. The last time he saw her, she was groveling on the dirt near the border. He never thought she would survive the slavery they sold her into. Not just survive, he thought, as she smiled at him, apparently thrive.

“It took a while for me to work up to this,” she hissed. “To get where I am today. Nothing has been left to chance.”

“She does have a nice event planned,” Beltran said, smiling broadly. “Tell him, baby. He deserves to know how he’s going to die.”

“I remember when I first came to Cancun,” Gia replied, eyes as big as saucers. “I was obsessed with Chichén Itzá.” The grand Mayan temple flashed into Guero’s mind as she continued. “Do you know that during the spring equinox, a snake appears on the corner of the pyramid? Of course, it’s not a real snake—it’s a shadow.”

“She’s very smart,” Beltran said, patting her leg.

Is this really happening? Guero thought he was being held by a Bond villain, complete with all the speeches and ceremony. He ran Beltran’s statements through his mind.

Working with the government was a strike against Guero. He knew it was only a matter of time before his former colleagues took note of the situation and did something about it. If Cavanaugh was offering his hit squad to the highest bidder, everything they’d been doing swiftly came into focus.

There would be a variety of reasons why Beltran might want him dead. Gia just sweetened the pot. And what did it matter? They had him; he knew that.

Gia watched him work this out; the delight it gave her to see him so disarmed made him nervous. She shifted in the car, the sound of skin against leather filling the small cabin.

“The Mayans believed their gods would be satisfied if they offered sacrifices on that particular day,” she continued, removing a small, black object from her purse. “An obsidian blade,” she said, pointing to the tip. “A bit dull, but things were brutal in those days. I’ll cut out your heart and offer it to the gods. It might hurt a bit, and I have no idea how we’ll get through your rib cage, but, you know, I’ll improvise. And then when we’re done,” she paused, leaning forward for effect, “we’ll pick up darling Leigh.”

Guero remained motionless as she moved the blade from palm to palm.

“What else could I expect from a crazy fucking blonde,” Guero said in guttural Spanish.

“You were wrong to cross me, you half-breed,” Gia snapped. “Don’t think I’m going to let you out of my sight. It’s time for new leadership in Cancun, and I’m the fucking queen.”

“Let’s get going. Put his mask back on,” Beltran commanded, seemingly tiring of the theatrics.

One of the guards pressed Guero into the seat, tossing the bag back over his head. Guero took measured breaths, wondering how the fuck he was going to get out of this. And, more importantly, how he would protect Leigh.