Vice(46)

“I am sure you’ve had a chance to speak to your employer by now, Kechu,” Fernando snaps. “When can we expect his royal highness to arrive?” Fernando grins, baring his teeth, and it’s not a happy grin. It’s a death mask, and I want to smash my fist right f*cking through it.

“He’s dealing with a private matter at home,” I say. “He should be here in no more than a week or so.” A week should be enough time for me to get my shit together and make this man dead. A part of me doesn’t know why I’m stretching this out so ridiculously. I could slip into his room at night, one way or another, and put him down the same way I did to Julio. I could wrap the cord from the light pull around his throat right now and strangle the bastard to death; the struggle probably wouldn’t even alert the guys standing guard outside his office. There are a million ways I could get what I want and get the f*ck out of here, but I’m dragging my heels. I know I am.

It boils down to the fact that I’m a pleasure delayer. The wait, knowing what’s about to go down, knowing that he won’t see it coming, is almost too sweet and satisfying to turn away from. And now, there’s also Natalia. I f*cked her. I shouldn’t have, but I did, and what stands between us isn’t as simple as a casual hookup. I look at her and I feel bottomless. I feel like I’m falling. I feel responsible, and protective, and violently angry all at once. It’s f*cking scary.

I’ve avoided feeling this way about a woman since before I was deployed. I don’t want or need to be feeling this way now, but I have no choice in the matter. She’s under my skin, now. I try not to think about what will happen to her when I leave here, because the truth is I just can’t see it. I can’t see me leaving her, period, and I have no idea how the f*ck I’m going to make that work.

So f*cking dumb.

“A week is too long, Kechu. I’m beginning to think your boss does not respect my time.”

“He does. He’s also a loyal man, though, and he won’t leave his family when they need him. Like you, I imagine. If Natalia was sick, or in some sort of trouble, you wouldn’t leave her side, would you?” I know this is a tricky hand to play as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Fernando’s expression is thunderous.

“You would be wise to leave Natalia out of this, Kechu. Don’t think to use my love for my daughter to excuse your Louis James’s behavior.”

I hold my hands up—I surrender. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to use Natalia. Mr. Aubertin will be here as soon as he can, you have my word.” I don’t give him Jamie’s word, though. He hasn’t given it, and I don’t want to sully his reputation as an honest man. I’m more than happy to give him my word, though. I’ll make promises all day long, and I won’t give a shit about breaking them. Later, when I’m killing the son of a bitch, how will any of it matter anyway?

“All right. You may leave now. Perhaps you ought to get out of the house today, Kechu. We are expecting guests who might not be happy to see you. Word of what happened to William has spread among even more of my clients. These are volatile men with volatile habits. I cannot ensure your safety while they are here.”

“Understood. I’m happy to make myself scarce.”

I am, too. Jamie might have pissed me off, but in fairness he has a point. I should probably have some sort of contingency plan in place, for when the time comes and I need to make a quick exit.

Natalia is nowhere to be found as I leave the mansion. Not that I can go looking for her. With the bi-polar mood Fernando is in today, if anyone suspects I’m purposefully seeking her out, especially Ocho, then I’m in big trouble. I leave the grounds of the Villalobos estate on foot. There are gardeners everywhere, trimming and clipping at bushes, edging the lawn, working tirelessly to make the place look beautiful. I see Ocho meandering along the workers along the perimeter of the grounds, walking parallel to me as I head toward the long, wide wood chipped pathway that cuts into the forest.

Obviously he didn’t fall into one of Fernando’s game traps and get killed yesterday when he wandered off alone, more’s the pity. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s bad f*cking news. He’s always there. Always lurking, always watching. He sees everything, and he probably hears everything, too. I don’t believe for a second that he doesn’t speak English. Or at least understand it. I keep a steady, even pace. I’d love to break into a run and lose the f*cker, but running around places like this generally makes you look guilty. I don’t need a slug to the back just because I want to shake Ocho.

So, walking. I walk into the forest, and I continue to walk. I don’t deviate from the track the cars use to travel to the estate. Without anyone here to guide me, I’m all too aware that I could put a foot wrong and get blown up by one of Fernando’s booby traps. And wouldn’t that just be f*cking perfect?

I know where I left the scrambler. I need to make sure it’s got gas and that it’s still running okay. I head south when the track splits. The journey from the bunker to the Villalobos estate didn’t seem all that long when I was in the car with Ocho the first day I arrived in Orellana, but now, on foot, it feels like miles and miles. The sun is high in the sky by the time I reach the bunker. Natalia told me the old ruined outbuildings here, decayed and standing in ruin, were rigged with traps, too, so I don’t go inside. I skirt around the small settlement, heading to the west, to where I stowed the scrambler.