Chapter Twenty-One #3
I turned immediately, seeing Elio standing by the vault door. “Let’s go,” he said.
I frowned. “It’s empty, I can’t just—”
“You”—he gestured to Upper—“back up the vent you crawled in from. I bought your team some time—if you want to leave, now’s the chance.” Then he looked at me. “You, follow me,” he said, turning and walking out of the vault.
“What the fuck is he doing? You can’t leave without that painting,” Dog said.
Upper had his eyes on me, waiting for instruction.
I sighed. “Go, I’ll handle this.”
He nodded, shutting the laptop and going his own way.
I rushed out of the vault, shutting it behind me.
Elio was already walking down the hall to the elevator, his strides so long that I found myself walk-running after him. “I can’t leave without the painting,” I gritted.
He walked into the elevator, and I groaned, stepping in after him. He pushed a button for the underground parking lot when the doors closed, and we started going down.
“We cannot fuck this up; I will lose my shit if we fuck this up,” Dog said.
“Why are we leaving?”
“It’s almost ten, no?”
“Yes, but—” The elevator stopped after a short while and slid open again; he walked out, and I rushed out after him; he dug his hand into his pocket, bringing out a key and pressing a button.
A car beeped to life in the distance, and someone leaned away from it quickly; she was wearing a waitress uniform.
My eyes widened as I took in the ride. “Holy mother of fucking Lambor-huracán-ghini,” I whispered.
“You’re shitting me.” Upper’s voice reached my ear.
“I shit you not.”
“Please sneak a picture, please, Zahra, please.”
I pulled out my phone, took a quick picture, and sent it to him. His squeal of excitement almost made me deaf.
The car was matte black and smooth on the eyes. It was so low that it almost kissed the ground. I just knew I was looking at millions of dollars.
The waitress straightened, holding a painting in her hand. “Sir, as you wanted.”
“The painting…” I trailed off, watching him collect the medium-sized frame wrapped in secure transparent packaging.
The twisted chihuahua stared at me. Why the fuck would anyone want this? I’d scream Bloody fucking Mary if I had to wake up to this hanging on my wall.
The waitress shot a stiff nod to him and then to me before leaving.
Elio handed me the painting. “Come on; I have places to be,” he said, already walking around towards the driver’s side, none of his security in sight. I rushed to the passenger’s side of the car, entering what smelled and looked like leather heaven.
“Why did you tell me to go find the painting when you had already found it? Do you know the kind of risk we took?”
He started the engine, and the car roared to life.
He glanced my way. “Your presence was beginning to get insufferable,” he said before pulling the car out of the parking spot and driving towards the entrance.
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “You really are a shitty motherfucker.”
“That is an incestuous remark. I don’t think I appreciate you implying I had intimate relations with my late mother,” he responded, entering the main road.
“What—I—you weren’t supposed to respond to that—it’s one of those statements where you just don’t respond.”
“Whose law was that, querida?”
“No, we’re not doing that. Don’t call me that.”
Still driving, he looked my way. “What. You don’t like Sport; you don’t like Darling—”
“Darling is fucking cool; I’m all for it, but when you say it, it’s like you’re mocking me.”
“That is exactly what I’m doing. Mocking you.”
“Anyone ever told you you were an asshole?”
“No.”
“You’re an asshole.”
The car swerved suddenly, tires screeching. My heart jumped into my throat.
When the car settled again, I was heaving. “Motherfucker! Just because you have a death wish doesn’t mean I do too.”
He glanced my way, looking very calm as he said, “Seatbelt.”
I scoffed, securing my seatbelt. I was ready for this night to be over.
Elio drove like he had extra lives, and in order to swallow my fear and hold on to my pride, I didn’t utter a word because he got us to the meeting point at exactly 9:59 P.M.
I unhooked the seatbelt and wasted no time getting out of the car, a gag rising in my throat at how wobbly my legs felt.
I brought out the painting and dropped my bag on the seat, slamming the door.
The sight of the boats rocking atop the water by the docks, and the cold breeze, helped quell my urge to throw up.
Elio got out of the car, looking pointedly at the black SUV a few feet away from us. “Your client?”
“Should be,” I answered, looking around us.
It was dark, save for the dim lamplight around the boats and the small cabin a few feet away. An unsettling feeling came with the atmosphere, and it made the hair at the back of my neck stand at alert.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said, walking towards the SUV.
“Wait, something is not right … or just walk right into the pending danger.” He sighed. “Estúpida,” he muttered, but I heard his footsteps fall in right behind me.
I reached the SUV but stopped short when I saw the person inside the car. His head was on the headrest, eyes wide open, with a bullet wound between them.
“Shit, he’s dead,” I said.
“What the fuck?” Dog’s voice rang out in alarm.
Elio pushed me aside and approached the body, hand touching his skin. “It’s still warm. It just happened.”
“Guys, the mission has been compromised.”
“Are you bloody shitting me? Three times in a row? Somebody fucking jinxed us!” Upper exclaimed.
Elio’s gaze snapped to a spot behind me at a slight click sound, and he groaned in annoyance. “Great.”
He suddenly and forcefully pulled me down, and the next thing I heard was multiple shots firing directly at us.