Welcome to Paradise
“Welcome to paradise!” Beltran said.
Eyes adjusting to the sunlight, Guero looked around as Beltran’s goons formed a circle around him. From the looks of the lush foliage, he assumed they were miles inland—nearer to Merida. A large, walled gate surrounded the villa, which featured several marbled fountains and carefully manicured gardens.
“Nice place,” Guero quipped, as he followed Beltran to the main entrance of the hacienda.
They entered a stark, white foyer with a massive chandelier.
“Gia wants to see you in her room, don’t get any fucking ideas,” Beltran said sharply, pointing a finger at him.
“You aren’t worried,” Guero shot back, unable to help himself.
He wondered if Leigh wasn’t rubbing off on him as Beltran turned and clocked him in the jaw. The goons broke his fall, but not before blood from his mouth began dripping on the pristine while marble.
“Fucking cocksucker,” Beltron responded. “You know how long I’ve waited to do that? You think you can bed half of Cancun, protected by Rubén all these years, and think you can just walk away? We are all dead men, Guero.” Beltran chuckled, the interaction seemingly soothing him.
The men shoved Guero to his feet.
“Like I said,” Beltran continued, looking nostalgic now. “Dead men.” He nodded to his men before departing down a narrow hallway.
The guards pushed Guero forward, and he dutifully followed them up a winding set of stairs. After reaching the top, the guards led him towards a pair of elaborately carved wooden doors. Crossing the threshold, Guero anxiously surveyed the room. A vast, four-poster bed sat off to one side. Situated next to it, sat Gia, studying her face in an opulent vanity.
“Make sure those handcuffs are on tight,” Gia said, eyeing Guero in the mirror. “I don’t want any heroics.”
After the guards complied, she gestured to a chair positioned opposite hers.
“Put him there.”
Forced into the seat, Guero ran different scenarios of Gia’s intent through his mind—none were promising.
“Leave,” Gia snapped at the guards.
They exited slowly, eyeing Guero as they did.
“They think you’ll escape, but I don’t,” she said in a sing-songy voice. “Know why?” She took up an object in her hand. Guero recognized it—the obsidian blade from before.
“Si,” Guero said, his mind going reflexively to Leigh. If they had her, she would gloat about it, surely. But the threat was there, lingering under the surface.
Guero wasn’t holding many cards at present; perhaps it didn’t hurt to ask.
“Does Cavanaugh have Leigh?” he asked in Spanish.
Gia turned to face him, tossing the blade away.
“Not yet—but he will, and soon. I’m going to let you . . . ” She rose from the vanity, taking a step toward him, “ . . . decide how she dies.”
The garment she was wearing parted around her slim, tanned legs. Gia drew it up to her hip, exposing a glimpse of her lacy underthings. Guero held himself still, remembering Beltran’s threat from before. Surely, he would object to Gia throwing herself at their captive, wouldn’t he?
Guero expected ill treatment, but as Gia slid towards him, running her fingers along his thigh, he realized the situation was perhaps more complicated than he had first assumed.
“We’ll do it together—you and I,” she assured him, running her hands up his chest. Her touch felt like poison.
“This really is the perfect place for you,” Guero said, burying his disgust.
“You have no idea what I’ve been through to get here,” Gia replied, her expression hardening. Moving abruptly, she turned, the voluminous fabric from her gown forming a diaphanous cloud around her. “Years of fucking my way to the top—no thanks to you.”
“Seems like you made out ok.”
“Ha!” Gia turned to him, appraising him as a cat would a small bird. “You think I’d forget what Leigh did—what you both did to me? She should have shot me there in the desert. She’ll be begging for me to kill her.” Her eyes took on a faraway look, as if ruminating on this fantasy.
Guero didn’t respond, eager to shift the conversation away from Leigh. He knew they didn’t have her—his job was to escape before they did.
Gia continued staring off into the distance before shifting towards him abruptly.
“But it’s all worth it,” she cried, facing him with a twirl, her unnaturally blue eyes sparkling at this declaration.
Guero didn’t know what Gia had endured these last few years but it had certainly been unpleasant. What kind of creature would emerge from that kind of trauma? He was about to find out.
Staring at him for a moment, she frowned, seemingly at a loss for what to do. Guero stared back, feeling the cuffs bite into the flesh of his hands. Soft hands, not the hardened ones of a man of action. He felt his situation keenly. Those years with Leigh had been a blessing and a curse.
Moving towards the vanity, Gia drew a vial from along a neatly-lined row. Tapping out a line of white powder, she snorted it expertly.
“Want some?” she asked, not bothering to face him.
“No thanks,” Guero replied, clipping off the words.
Soft, he had grown soft. Now, he was no longer a threat to anyone, just part of the sick game of revenge Gia had plotted. How he yearned for his old status back, a hint of his former power. He felt the metal of the handcuffs, wanting the pain. In his youth, he could snap a pair in half—and now?
Oblivious to his inner dialogue, Gia threw her head back, adjusting her hair before turning around.
“I never understood why you picked Leigh. I feel like you and I are a much better match.”
Moving slowly, she knelt in front of him. Guero tensed instinctively. Whatever he expected, it hadn’t been this.
Her hands found his belt. Guero tried shifting backwards. Gia ignored his movements, sliding the leather from the buckle. Guero struggled to prevent his arousal, which only seemed to intrigue Gia more.
“Don’t fight it,” she said, her eyes glassy. “Your girlfriend is miles away. We’re going to have fun—I promise.”
***
“Why won’t he answer?” Leigh looked down at her phone before reflexively dialing the number.
She only had one number for Rubén, which led to a cryptic voice answering service. She left a message hours ago. Why hadn’t he called back?
Leigh needed to tell someone what was going on. Could she trust Rubén? Absolutely not. But she was running out of options. Guero seemed to think Rubén was scared of Cavanaugh. What did he have on Rubén to make him so skittish? It must be something big. Perhaps Leigh could convince him to tell her. Maybe they could help each other.
Walking over to the fridge Leigh settled on orange juice, needing the influx of sugar. Her stomach growled. Eyeing the room service menu, Leigh decided on a salad. But when it arrived, she could only force two bites down. She stared at the lettuce, feeling like she was going to vomit. Her taste buds felt off, nothing tasted like it should.
She pushed the dish aside, trying the number again. Only a few precious hours remained until the party at Cavanaugh’s place. She was desperate to talk to someone about the situation. Getting the same answering service, she hung up with an aggrieved sigh.
Leigh retreated to the patio. Flopping down on a lounge chair, she let her thoughts wander. What was Rachel doing at that very moment? Leigh felt both distraught over Guero and hopeful at the same time. The promise of meeting her sister was intoxicating—the only glimmer of light in an otherwise dismal situation.
Pondering this more, Leigh heard a ringing sound. Checking her cell, she realized it was coming from the hotel suite. Darting inside, she picked up the phone.
“You called?” Rubén purred into the phone.
“Thank God,” Leigh said, unable to mask her annoyance. “You know, I’ve been calling for over an hour.”
“I’m sending a car. We need to talk.”
“Okay,” Leigh said, “do you . . . ”
The line went dead—Leigh studied the receiver before setting it down. Grabbing her vape, she returned to the patio. She took a drag, feeling the nicotine calm her.
She had only met Rubén a handful of times since her dramatic standoff at the border. She judged him to be in his 60s by now. Rubén had a very close relationship with Guero—they were more like father and son than employer and employee. But ever since Cavanaugh moved into the picture, there had been a subtle chilling of relations.
Sighing, Leigh looked at the vape.
Maybe this is messing with me, she thought. Guero was on her to quit; she might as well follow through.
Setting the device down, Leigh rose, anxious to prepare for the night ahead. She took a long shower, taking full advantage of the selection of soaps and oils the hotel provided. Wrapping herself in a fluffy towel, she carefully applied her makeup.
Studying her face in the mirror, she frowned over some areas of dry skin. Maybe this was all a part of getting older? After fixing her complexion and curling her hair, she felt more in control. Putting on a navy dress that barely reached the bottom of her ass, she studied the results.
It was one of the outfits Guero went crazy for—Leigh hoped Rubén would be equally impressed.
The car came precisely at the appointed hour. As it pulled up, Leigh fretted over whether or not to bring a gun.
“Guero would never go unarmed,” she told herself, tucking it into her purse.
Exiting her suite, she walked confidently toward the car as the driver wordlessly opened the door. Leigh got inside, wondering at her actions. She was placing all her trust in Rubén. Hopefully, her instincts were right this time around.
Leigh stared out the tinted windows as they drove through the back roads of Cancun, making several twists and turns. If Rubén was concerned about security, he needn’t have troubled. Consumed with anxiety, Leigh made no attempt to follow their movements.
As the car ground to a halt, Leigh felt her tension reach a breaking point. When the chauffeur opened her door, she sat fixed on the spot. Taking a deep breath, she felt a rush of indecisiveness. What if Rubén was the one behind Guero’s kidnapping? What if she were traipsing into the lion’s den?
She took a deep breath, studying the unassuming house before her. It was a ranch-style hacienda, with terraced levels built into the mountainous landscape. The comparison to Cavanaugh’s home now felt frightening.
Leigh swallowed heavily, moving for her purse. Whatever the risk, this may be the only way to find her boyfriend. With this thought in mind, she exited the car, just as a tall man the color of café au lait strutted up to her. Leigh studied the gold tips of his cowboy boots to the obnoxious print of his silk shirt.
“You must be Leigh. Call me Juan,” he said, displaying several gold teeth.
“Pleasure,” she said.
“Man, you’re like the perfect woman,” he said, shaking her hand.
Leigh returned the smile.
“Are you going to take me to see Rubén?”
“This way,” he said, releasing her with a hint of reluctance.
He escorted her along a stone path, past the main entrance to a metal door framed by thick foliage.
Juan slid a keycard into a hidden aperture.
“He’s certainly got this place under lockdown,” Leigh said.
“Yeah, he upgraded a few things,” Juan replied.
He looked as if he wanted to say more, but stopped himself. Opening the door, he gestured for Leigh to enter. He left her little space to do so. As she squeezed past him into the dark corridor, Leigh knew it was a calculated move. He closed the door behind her—a huge smile on his face.
“Sorry, I’ve got to frisk you. Please don’t tell Guero, he’ll kill me,” Juan said, emitting a high-pitched giggle.
“He might not, actually, but I would,” Leigh said, offering a steely glare as she held her hands to the side.
She felt his hands move up her body, suppressing a shiver. Juan worked quickly, but with intent, his fingers providing gentle pressure on the curves of her body. Leigh felt her sense prick. No one other than Guero had touched her like that in the last five years. Juan gestured to her purse.
“I have to keep that too.”
“All right. Don’t worry, I left my machete at home.”
“Too bad, I hear you’re pretty good with one,” Juan said, taking her purse with another melting smile.
Leigh didn’t respond, staring down the low-lit hallway beyond, her nerves in knots.
“His office is at the very end of the hall,” Juan said, studying her hesitation.
Moving behind her, he secured a heavy metal grate with a clank. Leigh whirled around, her hands reflectively gripping the steel.
“Just in case,” he replied with a wink.
All this security didn’t bode well, but there was little Leigh could do about it now. Turning with what remained of her dignity, she began walking down the hall. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she noticed several artifacts placed decoratively in wall niches. Leigh paused to study them before continuing towards Rubén’s private office. Arriving at a large wooden door, she nervously pulled at her dress. Taking a deep breath, she knocked gently.