His body falls on the ground with a thud.
Without any ounce of remorse, Santos tosses the gun on one of the tables, just barely missing one of the packer’s heads.
With his lip curled in satisfaction, he turns back to face his daughter.
I've made a mental note of where all weapons are at this point, but I highly doubt he would toss a loaded gun so callously like that.
Which means that gun was loaded with exactly one bullet.
This reeks of premeditation.
He planned to dispose of CJ in front of Ria all along.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot CJ's discarded weapon under the sink where he dropped it in his haste to untie Ria.
Behind Santos, three of his men haul CJ's lifeless body up to the far right corner of the dingy basement where the wall curves and disappears. Another pair picks up the thug who manhandled Ria and follow suit.
I hear a door open a few clicks later, then another shortly after that, leading me to believe this place has more doorways and halls. More points of exit.
My eyes track the room.
Ten people are left in the room: five armed men, including Santos and Villegas, three unarmed female packers, Ria and myself.
The odds of disarming all five on my own are high, but not without bloodshed or the possibility of people getting hurt.
"Now that we've gotten rid of the trash,let's move on to the ‘getting to know each other’ part of this reunion, shall we?" Santos stares at Ria like a lion hunting a lamb. "You must have something to say to your dear old daddy."
Ria tenses beside me, as she actively avoids looking at her father. Her body language screams discomfort, and I know she’s trying to scrub the image of CJ from her brain.
"I have nothing to say to you."
Tension sparks across the room, radiating from everyone who is anxiously listening to this back and forth.
Santos’ guards take an offensive stance, like they’re waiting for a command.
My eyes stray to my former boss.
He’s paler than I’ve ever seen him, not even bothering to hide the terror written all over his face. It’s like he’s anticipating Santos training a gun at his face for failing to accomplish what he was paid to do.
I turn my attention back to Santos, who has gone eerily silent.
I watch as he rakes his eyes up and down Ria before his gaze finally lands back on me. A shadow crosses his face, and I watch in satisfaction as his expression turns almost lethal when he sees the protective way Ria is holding onto me.
If she's in the way, he won't dare hurt me.
The fact that she's willing to risk her life for me pisses him off.
I have no idea if the tracker Ben put on me is still on, but I hope these amateurs didn't find it so Ben can track us and alert the DEA. We've already mapped out a secondary plan, should we get ambushed. Ben should have been actively tracking us this entire time. If we even slightly veered off track, he wouldn't hesitate to call in the cavalry.
I need to remain calm and buy us enough time.
And I need to do that without provoking Santos, who clearly wants me dead.
He’s pissed.
My father is beyond livid, judging by the tic in his jaw and the way his eyes, the ones that look exactly like mine, blaze as they zero in on my hand gripping Noah’s waist.
It’s been close to thirty years since the photo of him and my mom was taken, but the years have been kind to him. Maybe his money plays a part in that, because aside from the slight wrinkles on his forehead, he does not appear to have aged much.