Weapons for Leigh, Pool for Guero
“Boss says take anything you like,” Juan said, watching Leigh intently as she strolled through Rubén’s underground armory.
“I’m worried about metal detectors,” Leigh said, eyeing the accoutrements. “With all this security, I can’t take a gun.”
“Or your machete,” Juan said, walking around her.
He lifted two L-shaped police clubs from the wall.
“You can wear these in a shoulder holster, or hide them under a jacket.
Leigh studied them. She could use a gun, sure, but hand-to-hand combat? Not really her style.
“Will it show?” she asked, eyebrow raised.
“Not with what we have. Here, let me show you.”
Juan took a holster from a shelf, moving towards her.
“Thanks, I can manage,” Leigh said, taking it from him.
She slipped her arms through the narrow straps. Taking hold of the clubs, she whipped them around, pleased with the lightness of the material. Crossing them behind her, she fit them snugly away.
“You look comfortable,” Juan said, his gold teeth winking in the overhead lights.
“After my sister took off,” Leigh said, pulling the batons from the holster to admire them. “My dad would take me to the shooting range. It’s all he wanted to do. He’d hang out with his friends, leaving me alone for hours. There was lots of stuff to get into when your dad is a fucking drunk. He encouraged it, actually. Thought maybe one day we’d find the guy that killed my sister.”
“So, she’s dead, your sister?” Juan asked, resting his hand on the wall next to a giant Uzi.
Leigh stopped, letting the batons fall to her side. His words seemed to break the spell cast when Cavanaugh dropped that manila envelope in front of her.
Her sister wasn’t in the witness protection program. She was dead—and probably had been for some time. Creating a real-life sister was Cavanaugh’s way of goading Leigh into action. And now she was here, with a granddaughter to find and a maniac to kill.
“Yes,” she said, before slowly exhaling. Leigh removed the holster, stuffing it and the clubs into a canvas bag. “How do I get back into this place if I need more stuff?”
“Just call me,” Juan said, passing her his card.
“Security consultant,” Leigh said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, is every crook in town using this title?”
“Hey, I resent that,” Juan said, smiling broadly.
His eyes moved downward as he edged toward her. Leigh knew what was coming next.
“Hey, I know you’re really anxious about whatever is going down. If you need company . . . ”
Leigh looked him over, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you seriously hitting on me right now?”
“Come on,” Juan said, his grin widening. “We’re the same age! How old is Guero? Who knows how much longer he’s going to be around? He lives pretty dangerously. See, I’m a consultant—my lifestyle is relaxed. You may want some stability, you know?”
“Hmm,” Leigh said, studying him carefully.
Despite his cheesy getup, there was an air of confidence about him that was alluring. She swallowed hard, tucking the bag under her arm.
“Thanks for your help. I’d like to go back now.”
During the car ride home, Leigh admonished herself. Flirting under these circumstances, even for a job, was the lowest of the low.
“What the fuck are you thinking?” she said aloud.
Leigh held the wheel fast, feeling dread in the pit of her stomach. It had been several days now since she had been with Guero, and she hadn’t realized how addicted she had become to having him around.
She felt the heat of Cancun sink into her bones, the weight of what was before her. How on earth could Rubén think she could pull something like this off? Was it another setup?
Leigh was an assassin for hire, sure—but rescuing his granddaughter? Juan had only given her what they knew—she was somewhere in Mexico City.
The information was thin, and no one was going to help her through it. Leigh was accustomed to dossiers, with Guero filling in the blanks. All she did was point and shoot. She would sneak in, clad in a bikini and not much else, pulling off some of the greatest hits Cancun had ever seen.
She did it so well that she had been there for years, unrecognized. But she knew, after the incident at the club, that time had swiftly passed.
But Mexico City—perhaps that was a different story. She was unknown there, which worked for and against her. No one would recognize her, sure. But she was also not sure of the landscape. Plus, she had no Guero to help her. How would she get any intel to make it happen? It all seemed so impossible.
Juan had offered what he could in terms of transportation—a private plane to take her there and back. But Leigh knew she needed something else—someone else.
Specifically, a person she could trust.
She thought again of Cavanaugh’s offer and felt a plan form in her mind’s eye. She had the Improve Group. She had Sylvie. She had the job—DJ Chac.
Could she, in short, gain a friend?
The thought appeared so suddenly that Leigh pulled the car onto the side of the road. Vehicles whizzed past, but she sat stoically, feeling sweat begin to pool between her breasts.
If she could get Chac on her side, then perhaps she would have the muscle she needed to get Rubén’s daughter safely home.
It was a tall order. But Leigh was used to feeling underestimated—to proving herself again and again. Her eyes began to blur as the tears fell. She had been feeling so lonely, in despair without Guero. She hadn’t realized how much he had done for her, not until now. Who would comfort her when she woke at night, a pattern fast becoming her new routine? When her heart hammered against her chest, and she murmured about the killings, the fear. Who would console her?
Guero knew, intimately, where this lifestyle would lead. He had known before she did. And Leigh had not taken his wisdom to heart. She had thought perhaps he was slightly too old-fashioned, too unaware of how things worked. Cavanaugh had sidelined him, wanting Leigh to step up more and more. How it must have hurt him.
Pressing the windows down, the heat and humidity enveloped her, and Leigh felt the guilt descend. Guero had traded his high-profile, well-respected, and monied position for her safety—with a side of humble pie for himself.
He was no longer developing hotels, making deals, and supporting Rubén with every asset he had.
No.
He was ferrying Leigh around, acting as her chauffeur, and then taking her home and tucking her into bed at night.
Leigh felt the tears fall, unable to do more than shake them away as she pulled back onto the highway. She sobbed the rest of the way to the resort, unable to console herself. It was happening more and more lately—her emotions felt so wild, so unpredictable.
She knew she had to get her feelings in check. It was vital—essential, even. Otherwise, she would never be able to do what she needed to do: get Rubén to help her, get Guero home where he belonged.
Would it be enough time?
It was Leigh’s fault from start to finish. And now, she had to make it right.
By noon, Guero had walked the estate several times—sketching a layout in his mind. He didn’t dare do more. He knew Gia would soon seek him out; it was only a matter of time before she roused herself from whatever downers she took to sleep. That she was well-medicated was no secret. One couldn’t snort coke like she did and sleep like a baby. No, pharmaceuticals seemed a daily part of her regimen.
So, he waited patiently in his room, and at length, the door flew open and Gia walked inside—outfitted in a sundress, a full face of makeup, and a wry smile on her lips.
“Sleep well?” she said, eyebrow raised.
She moved toward him, hand twirling around the banister of the bed, as she swung herself to where he sat near the balcony. Guero held himself still, watching her keenly. He stayed like that for several seconds, allowing the silence to stretch between them. He knew it would discomfort her, and after a few moments, she crossed her arms.
“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
Guero looked at her coolly, then glanced away.
“Is there something you need?” she asked, toying with the rings on her fingers.
Guero smiled inwardly. It didn’t take much to destabilize a girl like Gia. Though outwardly confident, he knew there was a river of insecurity that ran through her. Lucky for him, he’d dealt with many—though none quite as beautiful.
He felt her interest in him keenly and knew he could use it to his advantage. He’d dated many women like Gia: outwardly gorgeous, inwardly vacant. In fact, he had spent much of his ill-begotten youth bedding them, only to find it was like inviting a snake into your home. Gorgeous, yes—but nothing you wanted to snuggle up with. And certainly nothing that would care for you, not in the long term.
He couldn’t help but compare Gia’s surgically enhanced figure to Leigh’s natural beauty. But it wasn’t just appearance. Leigh moved with confidence through the world. She didn’t fear life. Gia had none of these qualities. And yet, to look at her—she was the perfect doll. Beautiful on the outside.
He gave her a half-smile, watching the color rise to her cheeks.
“You’re very hospitable to me, seeing that you’re going to sacrifice me on top of a Mayan pyramid.”
Gia smirked at him, selecting a settee, she folded her legs beneath her.
“It really wasn’t about you, you know. This was all for Leigh. Maybe they’ll get her still,” she said, twisting her rings again. “You were just . . . ” She looked up at him. “Collateral damage.”
“So I’m understanding,” Guero said, smiling broadly now. Gia simpered in response as Guero pressed on. Might as well get more information, especially as he had so effortlessly buttered her up. “This was the whole time we were working for Cavanaugh?”
Gia shook her head.
“We had nothing to do with that. Everyone is in on the action these days. Once I realized where you were . . . ” She looked at him coyly, and Guero felt his pulse tick. It was unnerving, being so close to a woman with as much, if not more, ruthlessness than Carlos Beltran.
Oblivious to his reflections, Gia continued.
“Once I found you, all cozy in your little casita, with darling Leigh, no longer a cartel kingpin but just a lowly subcontractor.” She barked with laughter. “I couldn’t resist letting both of you know how far I’ve climbed. How I came up from where you intended to leave me.”
She offered a smile.
“It really was quite a turnaround,” Guero said genially—and this time, he meant it. He knew what cartel life was like for many of the women traded amongst them. Many didn’t live long. The fact that Gia had not only survived but gotten herself installed as a power player in Beltran’s world was impressive.
“Thank you,” Gia said, smiling at him. “I didn’t expect you to be so . . . ” She shrugged.
“Understanding?”
He knew he couldn’t come on too strong—she wouldn’t believe it. He had to play it slowly, carefully. Pulling back like a fishing line. It was the only way with women this beautiful. If you gave them too much attention, they began to feel powerful. But if you denied them just enough . . .
Guero had played this game many times before. And even though Gia was clearly aware of her charms, there was something about him that set her on edge. All the better. He needed every bit of bandwidth he could spare to figure out a way out of this mess.
“So, tell me . . . ” He stood, walking over to the balcony. “How do you like living in Mexico?”
“I love it,” Gia said, hopping up to join him outside.
She moved close, and Guero reflexively stepped away, keeping his eyes on the glittering blue pool below, sun blazing overhead.
“Do you want to go swimming?” she asked.
He turned to her.
“Maybe,” he said dismissively, watching her face fall with satisfaction.
“I like it here,” she said, leaning against the railing, her breasts heaving against the thin fabric of her sundress, and she made sure Guero could see every curve. It was clear she took full advantage of Beltran’s gifts—surgical and otherwise.
“Does your family know you’re down here?” he asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.
Gia shook her head.
“I have more here than they could give me anyway,” she said lazily. She smiled. “Besides, how would I explain what happened?”
He shrugged.
“You could say you were kidnapped and made the best of it. They wouldn’t think anything else.”
“Yeah, but that’s not what really happened, is it?” Gia said slowly, edging closer. “You have your story. I guess I have mine.”
Guero shifted away, intent on drawing her in.
“It’s hot,” he said, staring down at the pool, then back at her. “Let’s swim. I need trunks, though.”
“Aww, too bad,” Gia said, smiling, “I guess you’ll have to go au naturel. I’ll meet you down there.”
She twirled away, as Guero watched her go, his heart growing heavier as the door closed behind her. He looked down at the pool.
This felt ridiculous.
He knew Leigh was driving herself crazy, running herself into the ground trying to find him. And here he was, sunning himself with her enemy, going to the pool naked around Gia.
Leigh would never forgive him.
But he wouldn’t touch Gia—only lead her on. And besides, he knew what infidelity felt like. It had never been his style. He’d seen what it did to other people—how it wore them down.
He had no qualms about doing whatever it took to get out of here alive, but he couldn’t face Leigh if he touched another woman. Besides, the thought of Gia’s dagger-like fingers wrapped around him made his skin crawl. He wouldn’t be able to fake it.
But sunning himself in the pool au naturel? That, he would have to do. And if Leigh knew what he was doing—really doing—he hoped she would understand.
Would she?
A little voice in the back of his head said no.
He shook his head and moved toward the bathroom to grab a towel. He stared at himself in the mirror, wondering what would happen next—and if Leigh would ever forgive him.