Sun in the South |• Southern Horror Series

19. Here Lies Your Trouble

Vasquez stood in front of the window and looked down the terrifying height. He stared for so long his vision blurred.

There was trouble. He was here.

The room door banged, jerking him out of his thoughts and away from that spot that seemed magnetic.

"Who's there?" Vasquez asked, marching to get the door. He was alone in the exquisite lodge, yet he feared even his shadow.

"Me, Boss."

He knew the voice. It was Scarface's voice. Getting just 'boss' wasn't safe. He had to be sure the person wasn't playing games.

Vasquez pulled the door open and stood in the way. "Where's Roulette now?"

"Scanning the premises with Creed for He."

Stumbling past him at the door was Yvonne. For certain, she was furious as hell.

Vasquez regarded her as she flung her shoes off her feet and paced the cream center rug. He then turned his back at her and discreetly pushed Scarface out of the threshold. "Reinforce security in this hotel, and find me Monica."

"Sure."

"Oh, wait." Glancing in, Vasquez made sure Yvonne wasn't paying attention. She wasn't. Furious people thought of a good confrontation before they went straight to it, they didn't care for gossip. "Sam is in 600, make sure she's not alone. I can't leave Yvonne here to do that."

As Scarface nodded and left, Vasquez slammed the door shut. He used the deadbolt and the latch together. But could those really withstand what was coming if it wanted to come? Shaking the shameful thought off, he found his way to the table that held his drink.

He took one shot of the vodka, two, three. As he was about taking the forth, Yvonne cleared her throat. That gesture brought his attention to her. He was losing his goddamn mind.

He leaned against the huge chestnut table after turning and pinning Yvonne an authoritative look.

With the swirl of a finger, he ordered her to turn and move closer. She surprisingly obeyed, and Vasquez dug his left hand in her coat pocket. He brought it out — the fucking green button.

He did this. This was the only message he sent. A fucking big, green button that was certainly worse than a death note.

"What the...what is that, and how did it get into my pocket?" She asked with a troubled tone, eyeballing it.

There was a very sinister look on Vasquez's face as he fumbled with his hand and the button. "He was so close to you, fuck," Vasquez simply said to himself.

"Who's he?" Yvonne muttered to herself too. "Hold a fucking second, Esteban," she finally yelled, throwing her finest temper tantrum. She was a fireball now after attempting and failing to put the pieces together. "I'm not gonna ask you twice. Who. Are. You? And if you do not tell me, I'll walk out that door and you'll never see me again."

From a worried frown to a confusing frown, and finally to a head shake of disapproval, Vasquez's expression travelled. "What do you mean who am I? The mayor of Monterrey if you need to know again."

"Argh. Yes, you're the mayor, I know that." She took two quick steps towards him and said, "I met a governor's cousin today, and no, he didn't have armed men following him, fetching him from the crowd and leading him to a hotel without an explanation, without his authorization. So, no, I'm not asking if you the mayor or not, I want to know what type you are!"

"Governor's cousin? Which?"

"You can't be answering my questions with yours," she fired, but to no avail, Vasquez didn't give a rat's ass about her own worries, his were multiplied by a hundred of that.