Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Sí. You’re protected,” Cristiano said and turned back to Gabriel. “Do you know where she is?”
“These forests are small, and may be designated reserves, but Belmonte-Ruiz’s tunnel system runs right underneath that area with an entrance at the nearby Acapulco port.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, talking to himself, as if working through it. “It would make sense they’d managed to build an operational facility there.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Under the cover of the Sierra Madre del Sur mountain range.” Gabriel met my eyes and nodded. “I know where you are.”
* * *
One moment, Cristiano’s beautiful but drawn face looked back at me, and the next, I was alone. Cristiano was on his way. The TV monitors went dark, the warehouse office deafeningly silent. Diego’s blood covered my shaking hands. He’d lost, but what had I won? Wanting him dead wasn’t the same as committing the act. He was only the second person I’d ever killed, and at one point in time, I’d loved him more than anyone.
I made the sign of the cross, part of me hoping Diego found peace in the afterlife while I also damned him to hell.
He was dead, and to make damn sure of it, I would cut his throat. And then I would take down a troop of armed men.
I went to the desk, grabbed the computer mouse, and clicked on the CCTV program. A minimized window opened with a grid view of surveillance from different cameras. This time, it didn’t broadcast to the overhead monitors. I squinted and quickly re-counted the guards. The two in the warehouse were the greatest threat, but I only spotted one now as he leaned against a metal shelving unit, scrolling through his phone. I leaned forward, searching each display. Where was the other one? And where in relation to the office were—
My forehead slammed against the computer screen, blurring my vision. A fist in the back of my hair yanked me onto the ground.
I turned over. Diego’s legs shook so hard, he sank to his knees, his skull bashed in and bloody—then fell on the ground next to me.
My head pounded, my eyes crossing as I gagged. Don’t lose consciousness. Stay here.
Something pinched my arm. I struggled to lift my head. A syringe. In my shoulder. Diego grimaced, his thumb pushing down on the plunger. Emptying it into me.
Feeling like I was moving in slow motion, I reached over. We wrestled with the syringe, but I could see him losing consciousness. With all my strength, I yanked it out. “Wh-what is that?”
His eyes drifted to the ceiling. “Escalera al Cielo.”
He wheezed in such a painful sounding way that I felt it in my own chest and throat. Hairline slick with sweat, he started to convulse.
His gaze went distant—as my mother’s had her final moments.
My lips tingled so strongly that I had to suck in a breath. A strange but not unpleasant prickling sensation moved down my jaw. Arms. Fingers.
Numbing me.
“What . . . what’s happening?” My movements became lethargic as I looked back at him.
I looked over at Diego’s pale and clammy face. His chest sank. As life drained from his eyes, he said, “You’re coming with me.”
And then he was gone.
Stairway to Heaven. The memory came back in pieces. Diego humming Led Zeppelin. His casual reference over Coca Light that Juan Pablo Perez, the chemist from Nogales, was developing a new drug. Puffer fish toxins . . . sedative . . . a slowed heart rate . . .
I picked up the syringe with some effort and tried to focus my blurring vision. Almost empty?
A round-trip ticket to heaven. The most elusive and euphoric high.
But with the wrong dosage, the stairway home vanished. Heaven became the final destination.
If he’d overdosed me, I’d die right here on this floor.
My chin wobbled. “What have you done?”
He didn’t answer.
I needed to turn over. Get up. Crawl if I had to. But my body betrayed me. Exhilaration and satisfaction mingled in my stomach like a groundswell, rolling through each of my limbs, warming my face in a way that made me want to smile.
Hide, Cristiano had told me. I couldn’t lift a limb. I tried sliding on my back toward the desk. My arms and legs became noodles, loose and droopy, fatiguing with the effort.
My nerves vibrated. A pleasant hum took over.
I had to keep going. Escape. Hide. Fight.
But I could only sink into the ground, as the sky pulled me up, up, up—and away.
26
Cristiano
Max took the forest’s rough terrain as rapidly as he could, but every minute that passed felt like an hour, and we might as well have been moving in slow motion. As dusk began to fall, we crawled up an embankment of boulders. I braced myself against the roof of the Humvee to keep from smacking my head.