Tijuana Nights (The Nights Series Book 1) (7 page)

"You all right there, Mack?" Gabe coughed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I shrugged as River said, "Ghost hunting, more like it." I shrugged again, and put the sculpture down on the floor beside the door. "Actually, Mack," he added, "you did pick a good weapon. That thing would totally knock someone out if you got your aim right."

Gabe nodded. "Yep. Head crushing even." Then he burst out laughing again, but I ignored him.

"What the hell are you two up to anyway? Isn’t it too early for this sort of thing?"

River shook his head. “It’s dawn.” He released Gabriel from his hold on the floor, and pointed up at the high windows. He was right. The sky was pink from the approaching dawn. “We train most mornings starting at six. You’re more than welcome to join us if you want to. God knows you need it.”

I couldn't argue there, but gave him a pointed glare anyway.

"Think of it this way, Mack," Gabe started as he got up and stretched. "If you're prepared for a bitch fight now, then you won't hesitate as much when it comes to engaging with Carmen."

Carmen. It all came back to her, didn't it? I sighed. They had a point. As always.

I crossed the room towards them, and put my hands on my hips. "Okay. You've convinced me. When do we start then?"

River smiled coyly at me. "Right now." And with that, he dropped into a crouch, and swept my legs out from under me with one quick sweep of his foot.

I landed hard on the mat, and felt all of my breath escape me. I was sharply reminded that I had a bit of a hangover, and this was definitely not one of my brightest decisions.

"Lesson number one: Keep moving. If you stand still you're going to get taken out."

"Noted. Keep moving."

River helped me up, and brushed some imaginary dust off my shoulder. "Lesson number two: Hand to hand fighting is dirty. Some people thrive on it, others use weapons. But always keep moving, and learn to get down and dirty too."

“Well, if you two are going to be training this morning, I’m going to shower, and check what Chase is up to.” Gabe smiled at me and winked. “Best of luck.”

Oh boy.

* * *

When I hobbled into the kitchen a couple of hours later, I felt bruised, battered, yet somehow invigorated. The hangover seemed like a distant memory, and I was buzzed. River had put a set of boxing mitts on my hands, and had me sparring with him, and forcing me to do all sorts of unsightly things like crunches, press-ups, and stretches.

I had never really been fanatical about exercise, but I could now understand the thrill behind it. Right now, I felt relaxed and focused, and I was starving. Gabe was sitting at the dining table with a hot cup of coffee and his headphones on as he stared intently at his laptop screen. I walked up behind him, and lightly placed my hand on his shoulder. He jumped about a million miles into the air, and ripped his headphones off.

“Jesus Christ,” he snapped as he glared at me. “You gave me a hell of a fright.” He patted the seat next to him. “But now that you’re here, sit. I have something to show you.” He handed me the headphones, fiddled with the computer mouse for a second, and moved the laptop to in front of me. “Watch.” He pressed play on a video.

I raised my eyebrows in question when I saw the clip was of a beauty pageant. “What the hell, Gabe?”

“Watch.” He grinned as he disappeared into the kitchen. I turned my focus back to the screen, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. It was footage of Carmen Amaro, back when she was about eighteen. Well… Carmen Quintero, as displayed on the screen. The name Quintero was familiar, but I had no idea where from.

‘And what’s one thing you would like to do with your life, Carmen?’

I snorted. The questions they asked were ridiculous, but I continued watching, thanking Gabe as he passed me a freshly made cup of coffee.

She paused before she answered and smiled shyly at the audience. ‘I would like to study medicine and work in countries that need medical assistance.’

I practically spat out the coffee I had just taken a sip of. “Medicine?” I muttered, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Gabe smiled. “Keep watching.”

‘And what draws you to that profession?’

‘I want to help people in need. There is so much suffering out there… I feel that I could contribute a lot to helping those who can’t help themselves.’ She sighed, ‘I think being a doctor is a very noble profession.’ When she finished her sentence, she smiled brightly at the host. ‘It may not achieve the ultimate outcome of world peace, but it will certainly contribute to peace in some people’s lives.’

I snorted with mirth and pressed pause on the clip. “Is this for real?” I asked Gabe.

He grinned. “One hundred percent. You know…some people believe that was her winning statement – about not achieving world peace, but helping people with their peace.”

I shook my head in disbelief and looked back at the frozen image on the screen. The girl in the video clip seemed so young and innocent and nice. I was having a hard time comparing her to the same woman who blew up a freaking plane all because I was supposed to be on it.

'So tell me, Carmen,' the host continued. 'What is your definition of success?'

She looked thoughtful for a moment as she considered the question. 'A job well done," she answered smiling. 'I'm one of those people that when I set my mind to doing something, I like to make sure it's done properly and done well.'

My smirk froze on my features. This was some serious insight into the woman that was hunting me - unless all of this pageant rubbish was bullshit. A job well done... At the moment, I was just a job to her. And she was willing to pay through the teeth to kill me.

'Who or what inspires you the most, Carmen?'

'Mother Teresa. She is a truly selfless soul who helps all those that she can. One day, should I ever reach the same level of achievement as her, I would like to be recognised for it just as she has been. She is an inspiration to all of the women of this world in terms of strength, dedication, and love.'

Mother Teresa, I snorted. But then as I contained myself I thought about what else she'd said. A woman of strength, dedication, and love. If Carmen was anything, I guess I had to admit that she had all of those qualities ingrained in her. Love for Javier, strength... well, maybe just strength. Strength to be a cartel wife, perhaps? And dedication? I wasn't sure about that one, but she was certainly dedicated to killing me, so I guess she had that too. As for being recognised and likened to Mother Teresa - well... I doubt that would ever happen.

The YouTube clip ended with a load of audience clapping and the host thanking Carmen for 'the lovely social chat'. Social, my ass.

I took the headphones off, and turned to Gabe. "She really knows how to turn it on, doesn't she?"

Gabe laughed as he slid the laptop back to him. "That she does. She won that pageant, and within weeks, she married Javier Amaro. Didn't take her long to become a cartel mother, that's for sure."

I blew out the breath I was holding. "But she must have been so young."

Gabe nodded and slurped on his coffee. "She was. I think she was eighteen when they married. Javier was second in command of the El Diablo Cartel back then, and twelve years older than her. Not too much of an age gap, but Carmen must have seen something in him. Or... he offered her the world."

My mind thought to the millions of horribly ugly men out there with trophy wives, and I shuddered. At least Javier wasn’t one of those men – she’d done well in that department. I drained the rest of my coffee, and sat in comfortable silence at the table with my head relaxed on my arms as Gabe typed away on his computer. Then he let out a low whistle that caught my attention.

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know if you want to know, actually."

Immediately I was curious. He yelled out to River, who came to the dining table moments later.

"What's up?"

"Take a look at this," Gabe said as he turned the screen towards River. River bent down to read the screen more closely, and then he straightened as his eyes cut directly to mine. I got that damn awful sinking feeling of dread again, the same feeling I got when he found out that Carmen was hunting me.

"What?" I said, but it came out more like a hoarse whisper.

He shook his head, sighed, and turned the screen to face me. It was the headline that really caught my attention: Twelve Caucasian Women Decapitated in Tijuana - and Counting.

My hand flew to my mouth, bile instantly rising to greet my throat. "Oh my god," I whispered. I looked up at River, who was staring out of the window behind me. "They're just killing anyone, aren't they?"

River shook his head. "No. They're not. Gabe, pull up the police files on the dead women." Gabe started typing away again on his laptop, and River turned to me. "I guess we'll find out shortly, but I think Carmen and whoever else saw you with Javier has probably put out Rachel White's profile to their contacts. There is a hell of a lot of money banking on your beheading, Mack. A lot of people are going to die in the process."

"Got it," Gabe said a few moments later. He blew out another whistle, and turned the laptop around. I was completely mesmerised by the group of images on the screen. The women varied in their ages, but they did have two similarities. They all had long blonde hair and blue eyes. My hands ran through my own hair, and I winced. As part of the job, both Chase and River had convinced me to cut off my long hair to a close crop, in order to make wearing wigs and disguises easier. I always wore a long blonde wig whenever I was with Javier, as Gabe said from Javier's internet surfing history, being a blonde would be most attractive to him.

I felt sick. I had to make sure I kept a wig on at all times from now on, and not a blonde one. Bile was no longer just starting to rise to my mouth; I could now taste the coffee I had just swallowed, mixed with stomach acid. My jaw stiffened, and my mouth started watering.  I was going to be sick. I leapt up from the table, hand over mouth, and ran to the bathroom. I collapsed at the toilet, stuck my head over the rim, and heaved.

When I finished throwing up, I leaned back to rest my head on the edge of the bath. Tears streamed down my face as I thought about all those innocent women caught up in the middle of this. They all had lives, people who loved them, had their own families. Now because of me, they were dead.

This was a mess.

River knocked on the bathroom door, and let himself in. He paused when he saw me sitting on the floor, and then made his way over and sat down beside me. "It's not your fault," he said quietly. "This is Carmen's doing. Had she said something like 'bring her alive so I can confirm' then they wouldn't be dead. But she didn’t, she said 'bring me her head'. Carmen is a ruthless killer, Mack, never forget that. The Cartel do not care about human life. Humans are a means to an end, and they will use people however they see fit until they are no longer useful."

I sniffed, and wiped the tears away from my eyes with the palms of my hands. "But they all died because of me." My breathing was erratic from crying, and I tried to steady it. "They died because I didn't."

After River coerced me out of the bathroom, I decided that I needed to get extremely clued up as to what the El Diablo Cartel was really about, and who they were, starting with Alicio Mendoza. Gabe had pulled up all sorts of information for me, and I sat on the couch with River’s iPad, scanning through it.

I knew that those in the cartels were bad news, but I never really understood just how bad they were until all those women were beheaded because they looked like me.

They were hunting me out, and just the thought of it made me shiver.

River said that border control would probably start turning away women coming into Mexico if they resembled 'Rachel White', for their own protection. And then he told me that the El Diablo Cartel also basically owned the police and border security anyway. I'd figured that if they had an ulterior motive, it was to stop flooding the area with blue-eyed blondes, and narrow the killing field down.

I pushed my thoughts back to Alicio's profile photo. Alicio was dark, greasy looking, and very close to balding. He had bad taste in clothing, and if I didn’t know any better, judging by the shiny sweat-sheen in his photos, he had a bad body odour problem. Photos of his three children, all young, and clutching at their mother’s skirts, came up on the screen. I peered at the mother, Alicio’s wife, more closely. She was a gentle looking woman, but there was something sad and forlorn in her dark eyes. I couldn't imagine what on earth would have possessed her to marry a man like Alicio.