Page 4 of Reckless Woman
How the hell did she find out about this?
My hand reaches for the gun tucked into the back of my jeans, but Viviana’s quicker. She’s already on her feet. The room then watches, rapt, as she sinks her shoes into the seat of her vacant leather chair and steps gracefully onto the table.
She saunters down the center toward Gomez Junior, her slim legs working her tight black jeans like a catwalk model, her brown cowboy boots making a pretty sound on the polished mahogany. Glancing across at Dante again, I find he’s already staring at me. The corners of his mouth are creasing in provocation, like he’s in on another secret and he’s itching to share.
Is this display part of a pre-approved plan, or is he guessing at her intentions?Viviana’s a Santiago, after all. Fucked up shit runs through their veins, the same way hope and strength flows through others.
Gomez isn’t such a slouching sack of scorn anymore.
“There is no deal with the Mexicans, señorita,” he splutters, choking on his own lie.
“Ah, so youhavenoticed that there’s a pair of tits in this room?”
She crouches down in front of him, something cold and calculated in her stance. It’s fucking hypnotic. If Dante is slipping back into old habits, then Viviana’s following after. There’s nothing left of the scared, young girl who was on the run fromLos Cinco Grandeswith Anna last year.
“I was, ah, waiting for a moreformalintroduction, señorita,” he argues weakly.
“I see…Tell me, is this formal enough for you?” She gestures to the closeness between them. “Or would you prefer me to shake your fucking hand?”
He shrugs. “I suppose this is a business meeting.” He extends it slowly, hesitantly.
Wrong answer, asshole.
Viviana stares down at it for a moment—she roughs up the back of her throat and covers his knuckles in spit and contempt.
“Carajo puta!”Gomez Junior recoils in shock, and that’s when she shows her true Santiago colors. A moment later, his severed hand is thumping across the table and onto the floor in a trail of red, and she’s standing over his crumpled body with a bleeding Billhook machete in her hand.
What thefuck?
Gomez Junior’s screams and curses are fogging up the room as he slips from his seat and onto his knees, crawling through static chair legs to reach his severed appendage. No one helps him. No one says a word.
“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” snarls Viviana, spinning one-eighty in her cowboy heels to tick off each cartel associate with the outstretched tip of her blade. “Colombia belongs to the Santiagos now. You work forus. You steal, and you lose everything. You cheat, and we’ll shove our fucking rulebook so far down your throat you’ll be shitting out apologies for the rest of your life! But if you pay your dues? If you’reloyal…?” She holds her arms out like she’s embracing the whole room. “Then you’ll be rewarded…Any questions?”
There’s another round of silence before Dante starts clapping, redirecting all the shockwaves back to him. “Best show I’ve seen in ages,” he says, rising to his feet. “Pity we didn’t film it. I could have sent a copy to Carrera.”
“Señor!” gasps out Gomez Junior from somewhere on the floor. “They’re lies. All lies…your niece—”
“Just earned the respect of the entire Colombian cartel trade,” Dante finishes smoothly. “Shut the cunt up, Viviana.”
“My pleasure.” She springs, cat-like, from the table, landing smoothly next to a gibbering Gomez Junior. She kicks him onto his back, I see a flash of the twisted rose tattoo on her shoulder, and then Gomez Junior’s screams turn to ghosts as she slits his throat from ear to ear.
The meeting is over after that.
The message was received, loud and clear.
Ten men file out of the room, talking in hushed undertones. The story of what happened in this room today will filter down through the tributaries of theRio Grande de la Magdalena. By nightfall, everyone from the borders of Venezuela right down to Brazil will fear the new Santiago order.
Once everyone’s out, Viviana saunters over to join me by the door—cleaning her machete as she walks—her dark eyes raking over my face with a lingering trace of contempt. She’s seeking holes in my façade, but my expression is a blank fortress. “Can you keep up with us, Grayson?” she taunts in perfect, accented English—softly though, so only I can hear. “You should have been onto those New York shipments. It’s lucky for you the Santiago scorpion has a new sting in her tail.And eyes in every port.Fall behind again, and we’ll leave you in the fucking wilderness.”
Fury explodes in my veins as her gaze drops to the two gold rings I wear around my neck. Her mocking smile falters.Don’t go there, bitch.Anna may be blinded by their history, but I’m not so easily duped. Trust has to be earned, and Viviana’s bank is empty with me. If she gets up in my face again, she’ll know about it.
“How’s the shoulder?” she asks slyly.
“It’d be even better if you hadn’t shot me six weeks ago,” I say, sounding bored.
“You shouldn’t have gotten in my way.”
“I should have returned the favor.” This shuts her up. “I’ve seen them all come before, Viviana,”—I lean in, ice-cool—“and I’ve pissed on all of their steaming corpses afterward. You’re a new plaything. Nothing more. Enjoy your time in the sun, because one false move and you’ll fall out of favor so fast, you’ll lose more than a fucking hand.”