Chapter 3 #3
It’s a gorgeous day. Bright blue skies and not a cloud in sight. You’d never guess frozen boulders fell from the sky not even eight hours ago. Last night’s weather fit my mood much better than today’s. The issue with the poppies is only a fraction of what’s causing my irritation.
Being here fills me with bittersweet memories.
It reminds me of the role Humberto played in Tío Esteban’s death.
What he didn’t tell Florencia was that Humberto paid Domingo’s father—her abuelo—who paid the Hierro brothers to murder my tío.
Her abuelo—Ernesto—was only too happy to take the money to fund his revenge.
Ernesto begged for the cash and further indebted los Aguilar to Humberto.
We used to come here during winter in New York, escaping the snow, wind, and ice for the weather we have today.
Raúl—Tío Esteban and Fausto’s father—used to let me ride the horses.
He taught my brother, cousins, and me to ride.
Javier took to it as much as I did, but he wanted to learn to play polo.
He’d skip around with a polo mallet bigger than him, pretending to ride a horse as he swung it.
I learned to milk the cows and collect eggs from the coop. I learned what the term breed like rabbits means from first-hand observation. The animals just fascinated me. I wanted to be a vet until I realized that wasn’t realistic because of the position I would one day inherit.
It wasn’t until I was in my teens that it became obvious it was unlikely Tío Enrique would have a son.
His first marriage was an utter failure, so as the oldest nephew, I became his successor.
My compromise for giving up being a vet was still pursuing my love of science.
I double majored in undergrad then went straight to studying chem in grad school.
Recalling what I studied and why I became a trained chemist makes me think of Florencia all over again. It sours my memories once more.
“We’ll salvage what we can, but it may not be much. We can always visit los Aguilar.”
I smirk, cock an eyebrow, and shrug. That’s as close to an official agreement I give when Fausto suggests they steal from Ernesto. Fuck that family from now until eternity. It’s unfortunate Florencia is one of them, but just because I want to fuck her doesn’t mean I’ll forgive her family.
“Sí.”
“El Tigre, you need to get back here.”
It’s barely mid-morning, and I’m already on the way to the airfield when the call comes in.
It’s Tres J’s second cousin on Tío Esteban’s side.
He’s one of the guys I contacted to check out how much of a threat Humberto poses to Florencia.
Being greeted like this…Antonio is about to tell me something unpleasant.
I left the Cardenas farm after chatting with Raúl.
He made me laugh until my sides hurt, and it was like when I was a kid.
He slipped me the equivalent of twenty U.S.
dollars in Colombian pesos. It’s a tradition that started when I was eight and thought that was a fortune.
It’s continued every time I see him. The nostalgia moved me since I suspect that might’ve been my last visit with him.
I was happy to retreat to the relative privacy of my SUV’s back seat.
“What happened?”
“Humberto’s put out a quarter-million-dollar hit on Senorita Aguilar. At least six mercenaries have picked up the hit.”
?Joder el infierno! Fucking hell!
“Watch her, but do nothing unless someone makes a move. We’re about to take off.”
It’s a little less than an hour flight. It feels like an eternity.
Like I could’ve flown to at least Europe for how long it feels.
When we touch down, I’m waiting at the door for the single flight attendant to lower the steps.
There’s a town car already there for me. I’m across the tarmac at a full sprint.
My intuition tells me this isn’t something to downplay. Florencia pushed too hard, and now Humberto’s ego’s bruised. He might not know someone heard the entire conversation, but it was still enough to piss him off.
My driver slows as we approach the address the guy gave me over the phone. Anyone with an untrained eye wouldn’t notice the four men staked out around Florencia’s apartment. But I know what I’m looking for, and I spot all of them.
“Let me out here.”
My driver glances back at me, and I know he wants to disagree.
He’s not just a chauffeur; he’s also my guard.
He won’t contradict me, but he doesn’t approve.
I don’t give a shit. I don’t want these men scared away.
I want them eliminated. I don’t need a shootout, which is what will happen if any of them think they’re being cornered.
I turn away from Florencia’s building and go around the block to fully survey the scene.
When I’m satisfied there isn’t anyone else lying in wait, I circle back around.
The gun I carry has a silencer. I pick off one guy after another until the current threat is gone. It gives me stealth despite being a guy who stands over six feet tall and looks like a lean American football offensive lineman.
I enter Florencia’s building and creep up the stairs.
I want to be sure no one else is lurking.
I’m glad I do because I shoot a man through the back of his skull as I pass the mail room.
I recognize him as someone my family’s hired in the past. The only loyalty mercenaries have is to their bank accounts.
One day, they’re working for you. The next, they’re ready to kill you.
When I find her apartment, it tempts me to knock.
I decide against making any extra noise.
I’ve spied no one else, but that doesn’t mean the sound against the door wouldn’t draw someone out.
I pull the lock picking set from my pocket.
They’re illegal in New York, but I carry it anyway.
It’s laughable to think I wouldn’t carry it here.
I ease the door open.
“Get the fuck out.”