Page 53 of Reckless Woman
Circumstances bent our way today. The doctors didn’t need to die, but who am I to pass up a chance to make Santiago suffer? They were an integral part of his team, and we’re picking them off, one by one. He’ll see the pattern soon enough.
His house is a maze of twisting passages, but I know exactly where I’m headed. I’ve dreamed of being on this island for years, and here I am.
I’ve beaten the odds and cheated my way into the devil’s lair, and, as such, I’m deriving a stupid amount of pleasure from being able to wander unchecked.
I let my fingertips trail along the smooth white walls as I walk, speculating on his color choice. It hasn’t escaped me that most things in this house are white, including his wife’s clothes. I was taught to expose and exploit weaknesses, and I believe I’ve just found one of Santiago’s:
He longs for light, even when he can’t escape the dark.
When I think about it, it’s not such a stretch of the imagination. The devil was an angel once. Why wouldn’t he yearn to climb back up Jacob’s Ladder, given half the chance?
After checking that the maid is busy with the daughter in the kitchen—and collecting myself a sandwich on the way—I pause outside Santiago’s office. I already have the security passcode so gaining entry is easy. All the cameras are out. We’ve had a contact on this island for the last six weeks. What we didn’t have was complete access to his inner sanctum...
And now we do.
Stepping inside, I let the door slam carelessly behind me. No one will notice. Santiago’s wife is still screaming the place down.
I was only in here a few minutes ago discussing product embargoes for those still resisting our cartel’s new stranglehold, but the room looks different. The huge, circular space with the black leather couches and the glass desk seems even bigger without his soul-sucking presence around. It’s darker too, despite the floor to ceiling windows spanning one wall. The sun has disappeared behind a rare dark cloud on an otherwise spotless horizon.
Do you play chess, Santiago?
He set this board. We made the first move. Now, the king is about to be checkmated, and I’ll be the black knight responsible.
I work quickly to plant the listening devices, in between casual bites of my sandwich. Chicken mayo isn’t my favorite, but it’s better than all the health food crap I’ve had to endure over the last two days. When I’ve finished, I can’t resist leaning back in his chair and throwing my cowboy boots up on the desk. Pulling the phone system toward me, I dial out a number I know by heart.
He answers on the first ring.
“Viviana,” he croaks, sounding even more robotic and inhuman today. The latest surgery didn’t work. His body is slowly failing him. Only adrenaline spikes of revenge are keeping him alive. “Is it done?”
“It’s done.”
He cackles slowly. “And where are you now,mi vida? Drinking his expensive liquor in celebration? Fucking his men?”
“Sitting on his throne, surveying a kingdom that will fall in days.”
Alcohol doesn’t interest me. Men, even less so. My desires revolve around one thing, and one thing only:
Power.
More specifically:to never feel the loss of power again.
He cackles again, but it soon turns into a hacking cough. There’s a pause as his nurse adjusts his oxygen levels and makes him more comfortable. “My daughter, The Queen of Duplicity. Once he is gone, you will have your kingdom. I swear it.”
“I want the island and the house in Leticia, too.”
“You shall have all of that, and more. Tell me, why did you linger in Miami for so long?”
“To ensure that the fiancée stayed in the rehab facility.”
It’s a poor excuse, and we both know it.
“False friendships are a distraction,mi vida,” he warns.“She will hate you most of all after she discovers what you’ve done. She’s been a pawn in this from the very start.”
“Hate can be overturned,” I say smoothly. “Vengeance cannot.”
“Just remember that.” There’s another round of coughing. “I hear the doctors suffered an in-flight malaise?”
“We wired the plane to explode ten minutes after take-off.”