4. Four

Another day, another kill. The money's good, but I never do it for the money. I don"t need it. Not anymore. My brothers and I managed to dig ourselves out of the hole Miguel Juventino left us in. It took years of sleeping in the streets, going hungry for days, and doing things we were ashamed of. Things his precious son never had to experience. He was always kept safe in his small bubble, but not for long. I saw the recklessness burning inside him a few nights ago and I'm ready to help him bring it to the surface.

I sit up straighter in my seat each time the door I have my eyes on opens. The right person hasn"t come out yet. If I have to, I"ll sit out here all fucking day until he does. Luke Masterson isn"t returning home alive today either way. I hope he enjoys the last haircut he"ll ever get.

The streets are mostly quiet except for the sounds of vehicles moving in the distance. Not too many people are out on the sidewalks and there"s only one other business nearby. The door opens again and a tall, older man dressed in a blue suit steps onto the sidewalk, laughing and waving a hand behind him. I take out my binoculars and zoom in on him to get a better look at his face. I"m satisfied once his description matches the photo I was given. I toss a handful of peppermints in my mouth as I wait for him to slip inside his car. He takes his sweet time too. Only delaying the inevitable. Taking a phone call outside won"t save his life. Neither will returning to the barbershop to get something.

Once he"s finally where I need him to be, I drive away, watching in the rearview mirror as he starts the car, triggering the explosive attached to the bottom. I don't normally like causing scenes, but it was per the client's request. Today"s mark started a fire a few months ago, killing many women and children, including my client's wife and kid. I sympathized with the guy, and this man deserved to burn more than once. Once here, and a second time in hell.

Not only for what he did that day, but for all the other fucked up shit he"s done over the years. The list is long too. The explosion is loud, busting a few car windows nearby. Metal and glass flies everywhere. I drive faster, watching the fire rise behind me as I turn off the street.

I pull over into a gas station, only long enough to send my brother a message.

Me:It's done.

Carlos:Good. Want to grab lunch?

Me: No time today. Raincheck?

Carlos:Sure thing, hermano.

I can"t meet my brother for lunch, because I already have plans to eat elsewhere. I pull up my phone and watch the tracking device I planted under Mateo's car this morning. He was running errands, checking on one of his father's many businesses, and I"m curious to see where else he"ll be going–if I got his schedule figured out as much as I think I do. Sure enough, he meets his mother for lunch at some bistro downtown. I park across the street and don"t let either of them notice me walk in, keeping a safe distance behind them the whole time.

Mateo sits at a table in the front of the restaurant and I keep low in a booth in the back, eating my sandwich slowly. His mother and him are deep in conversation and he barely touches his food, his expression unreadable the whole time but his eyes giving his misery away. He stares off somewhere else as if he"s pretending to be anywhere but where he is. I don"t take my eyes off him the whole time, noting every time he moves his hands or opens his mouth. Studying every blink and fake smile.

I always follow my targets weeks ahead, getting to know them better. I know Mateo's day-to-day activities by now. It helps that he is very predictable. I scarf down my potato chips while I watch him head for the bathroom. His mother is too busy on her phone to see me walk in behind him. I leave a rose by one of the sinks in a place it"ll stand out before walking out. Exiting the restaurant, I return to my car and don"t drive off until they do. Maybe today will be the day he goes somewhere different for a change. Somewhere alone.

Every time I watch him, he never wears the face of a man who is happy. There is light missing in his eyes. He looks trapped and lost. I am ready to be that light so I can slowly rip it away and send him straight into darkness. He will become mine, and he will beg for my touches like a needy whore. He will learn to love it and then he will learn to hate me. By the time that happens, it will be too late. I will already have what I want. There will be no marriage, no alliance, and no one to take the place of Miguel Juventino.

The Moraleses will no longer be in his corner, and he will be left weak and vulnerable after losing his son and the support of one of the largest crime bosses. He doesn't have another kid he could marry into the Morales family. This wedding is his last hope. His enemies are multiplying and his wall of security is slowly falling. He doesn"t know I"ve been behind a lot of it.

I drive around for what feels like forever, watching Mateo go to place after place with his mother. Him storming out of a cake shop catches my interest. Knowing I could use his anger to my benefit, I continue to follow him back to his house. Why would he come back here if he felt trapped and angry? Wouldn't he run off somewhere else? Maybe I was just hoping he would. But he never does. Why would today be any different?

Bringing him more into focus in my binoculars, I watch as he rushes inside after signaling the driver to keep the car running. Maybe my little princesa is getting away for a bit after all. Exactly like Rapunzel, curious to have a taste of the outside world and ready to break free from his tower.

That's it, little princesa. Run away from your prison and away from the safety of your father's guards. Do something reckless.

The sky goes dark as I follow Mateo's car down a backroad heading into town. I perk up when his driver stops in front of a brand new club with bright blue and purple lights that make the front entrance blinding. There is a long line pouring out the door, but someone like Mateo would never have to wait in one. All he has to do is tell them who he is.

I park the car and walk to the front of the line. I am friends with the owner and will have no trouble getting in either, but I"ll wait until he goes inside first. He stands on the sidewalk staring up at the lights, shoving his hands in his pockets.

That"s it.Go inside.

He turns around, searching for the car that's already gone. Knowing it's too late to change his mind, he gestures for his guard to wait on the other side of the entrance and walks to the front of the line.

Good boy.