Mission Complete
**ROMANY**
“What the fuck are you *doing,* Ruiz?” Santos' dark deadly voice rumbles beyond Ruiz and in my addled little brain I’m down on my knees in the Catholic Church lighting candles and praising the Virgin Mary for big strong Spanish madmen with anger issues and crazy hair.
Ruiz reluctantly relinquishes his hold on me, releasing my chest and removing his hand from my hip, but he doesn't back away. Instead, he turns his face to look at his cousin, but locks his hands on the rail, keeping me caged within. “We were discussing modesty,” Ruiz practically snarls. “And how little some people tend to have of it.”
Santos’ eyes meet mine, his expression is grim. “Step away from her, Ruiz. Before I take you by your dick and swing you off this pier.”
Ruiz’s face hardens and to my utter confusion, he begins to take off his shirt.
“Ruiz,” Santos says calmly. “I am not going to tell you again. Step. Away. From. Her.”
Ruiz snickers, stepping back for only a second so that he can wrap me in his shirt and I swear my jaw almost taps against the railing in shock. He whispers in my ear so low I almost wonder if he spoke inside my head, “You will keep yourself covered from now on.” Then he steps away, smiling his lizard’s grin as he saunters toward Santos and says, “Jealousy does not look good on you, cousin. What kind of man allows his woman to provoke his guests, eh?”
Santos turns with him, keeping his eyes on the serpent the entire time. “You’re not a guest, Ruiz. You are a trespassing circus *clown* that has outgrown his nose and overstayed his welcome. You should worry less about *my* woman and more about finding your own. Whatever business you want to discuss can be handled when I return home.”
Ruiz freezes in his steps, the accentuated lines of his lean muscled back shifting with tension before he turns back around. “I’m afraid that simply will not do. You see,” he gold eyes glitter in my direction, “the spell has already been cast, primo. That witch knows *exactly* what she is doing.” He smiles so wickedly I almost expect to see his teeth have been sharpened for biting. “And fortunately for me, *I* know exactly what she is doing as well.”
“Am I supposed to decipher that little riddle, Ruiz? Or are you still center stage under the big top?”
“You know… *cousin,”* he spits the word like disease from his lips, “there are people in our family who have grown extremely bored with your false loyalties.” His eyes float in my direction then back again. “You really ought to spend a little more time considering your actions… and your females.”
“And you ought to spend a little more time waxing your chest,” Santos suggests. “You look like a goddamn bear for fuck’s sake.”
I bite my lip, turning away so that Sharptooth doesn’t see me swallow my laughter.
“Fuck you cousin. You fucking peacock,” he spits before turning away and heading for the the house.
I walk toward Santos on shaky legs, keeping my eyes on the patio and Jaime playing DJ in a pair of yellow speedos while Anna lines the bar with fresh cocktails. “Is it true what he said, about jumping off the dock?”
Santos sighs, his eyes scanning the road beyond the house and the hills that stand like two forts on opposite sides of a battlefield. “Probably,”
“So he actually saved me,” I say, dazedly. “I would have pinned him for one that would have wanted to watch me bleed out on the water while he blew his load onto the top of my head.”
“He likes to get to know you first,” Santos says absently. “He likes to watch all your hopes and dreams die with you.”
“Yikes.”
**RUBY**
I’m seated in the most comfortable chair in the room when Ruiz walks in talking a mountain of shit in Spanish about Antonio being on the losing end of a three legged race. And something else about Antonio being the orphaned child of goats who ought to better appreciate the men that took a chance on him.
He doesn’t even notice me until he’s poured an entire glass of Scotch and guzzled half of it down. It’s with his lips still on the glass that he finally sees me in the reflection of the mirror above the bar and realizes that I’m sitting about fifteen feet behind him in the master’s chair with two miniature canons pointed in his direction.
His back tenses and I smile nice and bright. “Hello Ruiz. Drink up now. I hear it makes the transition into hell much more pleasant if you’re wasted.”
“Then I should be pouring you a drink as well, Devil. What would you prefer… gasoline? Or the blood of a small infant?” Ruiz grins, tossing back the remainder of his whiskey before he turns around and sneers at my weapons. “What are you even doing here, Puta? Didn’t my cousin ship you to the right address?” He waltzes forward slowly, scanning the rest of the space with a wary eye.
“Speaking of goats-” I say with a smile and Ruiz snickers “-why don’t you be a good billy and ring the dinner bell for me.”
He chuckles, ignoring my request and attempting to take a seat in the fluffy navy colored love seat closest to the side table.
I raise my gun. “I don’t think so, Ruiz. You can remain just as you are. Wouldn’t want you having access to anything you might have stashed around the house. Keep your hands out of your pockets as well, or I might get spooked and put an extra hole in your dick.””
Ruiz releases a slow breath, just as the slap of sandaled feet closes in on the large glass doorway.
I am seated in the shadows behind a long navy curtain and when the door swings open I steel myself and slide up onto my feet, bringing my right arm up just as Antonio steps into the house.
He frowns, his eyes locking on the mirror above the bar. Then his body seizes, every beautifully sculpted muscle at his disposal rocking up as he catches sight of me in the reflection and he realizes that I am one tiny squeeze away from completing my very last job for Alex fucking DeMarco. And that he, himself, turned out to be the key that I needed in the end. He helped me escape capture, he helped me isolate my mark, and he helped me neutralize the threat.
“I told you… I always find a way.” I have to force myself not to meet his crystalline gaze when I see his fists clench in disappointment. “Mission complete.”
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