| |
Regan Harris
Pulhapanzak Falls Parking Lot
Honduras
“I think I have a better idea,” I said, replying to el jefe’s threat that he didn’t leave witnesses. My only available weapon was my mind. And my mouth. I needed to use them wisely.
“A better idea? I will humor you. Continue.” He smiled at me.
“Do you know who those men are?” I asked as I pointed to Michael and Frank. El jefe turned to look at them.
“Yes, family members of the man Garcia lost,” he said.
“I meant, who they really are?” I emphasized the question.
“My humoring is over. What are you trying to say?” Gone was the nice, smiling man. In his place stood a cold-hearted killer. I could see it in his eyes as I stared back at him. He blinked and his eyes shifted. A flash of blue could be seen on the edge of the brown iris.
Contact lenses!
“Those men could help your business. They are the heads of the two largest mob families in the Southwest United States. They also own two of the largest casinos in Las Vegas,” I explained.
I had him. More money and more power were always great motivators. El jefe released me. I stayed in place, my bound hands still between us. His right hand moved to his chin as he absorbed what I told him.
“Continue.”
“With their help, you could double, or even triple your business. Vegas is a den of sin. Drugs, sex, alcohol. It’s a gold mine in your business. And you’d have an inside track.”
“Is this true?” El jefe asked Guy. The tone in his voice left no room for Guy to lie or evade.
“Yes, it’s true,” Guy admitted.
El jefe turned back to me. “And what do you have to do with this? Who are you?”
“I’m his daughter-in-law.” I pointed to Michael. “I just came here to find my husband so we could go on our honeymoon.”
Michael nodded when el jefe turned to look at him. I should’ve kept my mouth shut while I was ahead. I should’ve let the rest play out while thoughts of greed and fortune floated through his head. The tension was already dissipating as Michael and Frank’s value soared. El jefe wouldn’t have hurt his chances to form a new partnership by killing Michael’s daughter-in-law.
But I didn’t. I opened my mouth and kept going, euphoric on the thought that I may actually live.
“And the woman I’m with is Guy—Garcia’s—long-lost wife. How romantic is that?” I jabbered on, not realizing that Gracie was gone. The mood switched instantly as all heads swiveled in Gracie’s direction. El jefe pulled a gun and pointed it at Guy.
I expected Gracie to cry out, and when she didn’t, I looked over my shoulder. The car was in the exact same spot. The dead man lying beside it. But no Gracie. And no guard.
“Where is she? Who else is with you? Who else is here?” El jefe shouted the questions. His arm extended, the gun focused on Guy.