Attraction, desire, and sinfully beautiful, Mika Santana is a devil with the face of an angel. Despite her tragic past, she's never given up her ruthless pursuits for success and vengeance which leaves little to no room for matters of the heart. But...
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Broken concrete slabs and leaves crackle under our feet. Leafy-green weeds line from the ceiling to the floor. The living room of the deserted building looks like a werewolf crawled its way through it. Bullet holes trim the pillows on the mangled couch. The lack of light causes the pigment of the building to turn muted, dark, and soulless. Chills cascade down my back when an abrupt noise shatters the quiet.
My breathing halts, holding the burst of air to keep from being caught. Craning my neck slowly, I warily observe every perimeter in the room before following the leader. As a group, we re-evaluated for Gato to conduct the charge with his freshly repaired arm. Behind him is Limon, Pacho, Mateo, and lastly myself. Julian and Santiago guard the exits with their earpieces to communicate with us.
Diaz thought he was achieving something by purchasing a large order of narcotics from us to resell for double. The only thing he's getting is a brutal attack from my crew as I collect our remaining goods. My capos collectively agreed to give me the simplest task in order to prevent last time results. However, choosing a member to protect me was like searching in a haystack.
Sadly, the loser of rock, paper, and scissors was Gato.
So, I had an abundance of doubts about trusting my fate in his grimy, revengeful hands.
The Diaz familia maintains their organization in a deserted house on the outskirts of the city. It might've been challenging to find if I didn't have a branch of exclusive spies. On Wednesdays, usually, only Marc, Raul, and Iker stay overnight to maximize the shipments of our products. Unless they know about our ambush, we're in for an easy treat, and I could run into Mika's arms.
Being with my girl is the only thing keeping me from collapsing on the floor.
When panic erupts in my veins, I paint the image of Mika in my brain and subconsciously smell a wave of strawberries. I'm not sure if this tactic will work once the war breaks, but I have to try. There's no way in hell I'm going to die tonight and say goodbye to Mika before even standing a chance.
We squat, keeping our bodies camouflaged against the items in the hall as the voices grow stronger, louder, and vibrant. Gato pulls his pistol out first, and the rest follow his lead while I leave mine untouched. Taking a life changes people, and I'd gone through enough changes to last a lifetime. Boxes grind on the floor as if someone was pushing them to the other side with a loud, struggle groan.
Iker's black mohawk is tall enough to view while squatting behind the boxes, and Marc's oval face is coated in shaving cream. They appear clueless about the havoc dallying over their heads. Raul strolls in with huge white-like powder packages resting on his shoulders. A residue of the powder loiters under his nose before he cleans it with his sleeve.
My chances of surviving are getting better and better.
As Mateo shifts onto his knees, he accidentally knocks a box onto the ground. Time stops as I watch the box fumble on the floor before landing on its side. My pulse explodes, pounding in my ears as I cover my mouth to muffle my shaky breaths. Gato whips his head around and signals for us to remain silent.
