Abel
EPILOGUE
SIX MONTHS LATER
Mexico City is beautiful .
The culture, the people, the way they make fun of my broken Spanish and phrases that are only common to Puerto Ricans. We exist in color here, the flavors of the food and the rich music feeding us in a way neither of us have fully experienced before. This is a life being lived.
But the thing I love most about this place is the way they’ve embraced Rose. La Espinita is what most locals refer to her as now, having retired her previous gringa name.
I’ve watched her dance to their music, learn their language, eat their food, and shed blood for the people who’ve come to accept her as she is.
And now, here I am, handling the business that keeps us here, safe and free.
“Your shipment was late,” I start from my place at the end of the massive table. My linen shirt is loose, a few buttons fastened in the middle of my chest as a breeze skirts over us through the open terrace. The sun will set soon but business is conducted at all hours. “We understood. Your operation was at a standstill as you investigated, we understood. But what we don’t understand is hearing that you didn’t lose your shipment, Ruben. That you sold it to a Russian syndicate for a higher price.”
A terrible fate has been bestowed upon him, whether he knows it or not. Typically, I’m on the outskirts of conversations, only ever knowing the essential details like our cohorts’ identities.
They call me when it’s time to exterminate.
“You have no proof,” he exclaims, tossing his hand in the air as if that’s that. “ ?Donde esta El Jefe? Ya terminé de hablar contigo.”
The man in front of me, with his trimmed gray beard and white dress shirt, pisses me off with that smug look on his face. He thinks because El Jefe has granted him leniency in the past due to their familial connections that he’s untouchable.
He’s going to realize just how false that is today when he leaves the premises in pieces.
As if reading my mind, Rose walks into the room, gliding like some sort of goddess in a sundress that flows behind her like a train.
Just like the first time I ever saw her. Her bright blue eyes find me as she approaches, and I love that she doesn’t smile. At least, not with her lips.
The man before me glances over at her, his eyes widening a fraction as his gaze roves over her body. The urge to possess her unfurls inside of me but I refuse to be jealous of a dead man.
So I taunt him instead.
Que cabrón sucio.
“She’s stunning, isn’t she?” I ask, my eyes never leaving hers as I purse my lips at her, beckoning her when she’s already headed toward me. “Come here, amor .”
She doesn’t hesitate, her red dress billowing around her as she walks in our direction, her sandals slapping against the imported tile.
Her skin glows, the sun having favored her. She looks expensive, her upbringing giving her the perfect leverage to take people like this disloyal fuck by surprise.
El Jefe loves that about Rose; she’s the perfect element of surprise. I often worry he’ll try to take her from me but he’s aware of the repercussions if that were to happen.
No ? No Rose.
One day we’ll have to slow down and retire somewhere in this exquisite country, likely with Dr. Brown once he’s finished laundering money through Silverwing for the cartel. But until then, we’re enjoying ourselves.
When she reaches us, she places a hand on the shoulder of the man before me, and he smiles at her, as if she’s going to be some sort of gift to him. The underhanded pig.
“I’d introduce you but Rose doesn’t care to get to know her victims. ?Tú entiendes? ”
His eyes widen and before he can open his mouth, Rose grips him by his hair, bashing his head onto the marble table we’re seated at. I wince once as blood splatters on my shirt.
I’ll have to get a new one tomorrow.
Once, twice, three times until thick, dark blood pours from his cracked forehead, his pinkish brains peeking out from his skull.
I used to be terrified of the violence she’s capable of. But now?
Now I just want to lift her on top of this table and fuck her senseless. I want to lay her down right next to this dead body and remind ourselves just how alive we are.
She straightens, her lips twitching at her handiwork and I remember the days when she’d look lost after succumbing to her urges. The days when I’d barrage her with fear, trying to force her into a life she was never meant to live.
I open my arms and she moves to sit on my lap, my hands resting on her hips once her ass is seated on my crotch. I wish I could pull her panties to the side, pull out my dick, and give her long strokes until she’s begging for more.
But I don’t dare to disrespect this house when I’m merely a guest here.
“You look beautiful,” I murmur, running my hand over her hair that’s grown longer in our time here. I look into her eyes, loving how the sun brings out her freckles. “I can’t wait to fuck you later.”
Her cheeks bloom a pretty pink that reminds me of her pussy and I kiss her, infatuated with our happily ever after.