10.

Charles

Mack kicked my foot, waking me from my combat nap. Which was turning into a very good dream that involved Victoria and a can of whipped cream, with a black thong, and matching thigh high stiletto boots.

"Guess who is flying the President of Columbia here?"

How the hell was I supposed to know? I sat up and looked around the hotel for a coffee maker. No coffee maker. God I needed something strong. And something to kill my hard-on. "Your mother?"

Mack threw his sweaty t-shirt onto his bed. It was soaked. "The local Sarah was flirting with. Armando."

Ok, he had my attention.

"Neither sister has exited their condo. Which leads me to believe they are closed for today. Go over there and make sure the plane is still coming."

The surprise I felt didn't even register on my face.

Sure, it surprised me a little. But my mind was so far in left field I was no good to Mack. I rubbed my forehead. I was still blown away at how scared the mother of my child was. How could Ryan do that to her? Why would he let her handle all of it on her own, alone? How could Mack not notice the terror on her face? Mack had a wife and family.

"There is a hurricane coming. Are the representatives still coming?"

Mack's gaze narrowed.

Apparently he was not familiar with that little fact. Too bad we didn't have a TV. He walked to our phone and lifted the massive thing up, flipped up the antenna and started dialing. No more radio silence from us.

I got up.

Didn't bother to check how I looked, I was pretending to be a local. I strolled out the door as Mack hissed at me. I stood in the doorway of our crappy little motel room and saw something so out of place I almost laughed.

Three white men in khaki pants, dress shoes, and black turtlenecks.

They might as well have been wearing neon signs. They walked up to locals and tourists on the beach with pictures, asking in heavily accented voices for information on the people in the pictures.

My heart turned to stone.

One came over my way, closer and closer. I heard Mack drop the phone and kick some items out of sight. Then he ducked into the bathroom and the sound of a weapon being cocked was clear as day.

The man held up a piece of paper with two pictures. One of Sarah and one of Victoria, they were old pictures from their drivers license, years old, but still good. In an Eastern European accent that could very well have been Ukrainian the man asked me, "You see these women here? Anywhere?"

I took the picture and looked closely.

A calmness claimed me.

That calmness that cleared my head and got me into trouble as a child. I nodded, faking an accent, faking an eager smile, I nodded and stepped back, "Yes! Yes! Miss. Stone! Yes, yes!"

He stepped closer, over the threshold. The other two men weren't looking my way. I grabbed him by his throat and spun him around, he never had a chance to think, or react. I pulled him out of the doorway and into the room. Grabbed his neck in one hand, his chin in the other, and twisted. Effectively snapping his neck before he could react.

I shoved him on the floor and grabbed the paper.

I closed the door and drug the body into the bathroom. No blood, a perk of neck snapping. At the sight of the body Mack pulled back the plastic sheet that passed as the shower curtain. "Two more out there that I can see. Dressed the same too."

"You go check on them. Hide them somewhere, I'll get rid of the two others."

I looked at him, "Why don't I go after them?"

Mack gave me a look, "Cause you're not thinking with your head right now. When you don't think with your brain you screw up."

How I wanted to argue.

But he had a point.

A little later…

When I was positive I wasn't followed and there was no one watching the condo, I climbed the stairs and tested the doorknob.

Locked.

Thank you Ryan.

So I knocked. I pounded on the door until it was opened, Sarah was there and I pushed my way in, closed the door, and locked it once again.

"Hey hey hey! What is your problem! Do you mind? We are trying to…"

I didn't care.

"There are Ukrainians here…where's Victoria and Charlie?" the condo was quiet except for the weather channel. Sarah paled three shades and pointed, "Down at Bill's getting bacon…" I didn't hear the rest. I ordered her to stay put and hauled ass out the door, down the stairs, and across the one lane dirt road into the shack that was the local market and gathering place.

No heat or air.

Screen door and banana leaves for the walls and ceiling.

Though there were meat coolers and shelves with severely overpriced food. I checked around, no men stood out as hired killers. So I went towards the coolers. Charlie was mere feet away from Victoria admiring a bottle of purple ketchup. I scoop him up and marched over to her. Bumped her with my hip and murmured, "They're here. Take Charlie and get back to your apartment."

She looked at me with such fear. Fear and submission to the fact she'd have to go, flee again. As if she had given up.

"Now," I told her and she listened.

Years ago she would have sassed me.

Now she took Charlie from me and hurried down the small aisle of the shop, but when she got to the end she wheeled back. I never got to ask, I heard the heavy accent, heard the big boots upon the soft worn wooden floor. She ran past me like a lamb fleeing from a wolf and hid at the end of the aisle.

I stayed put.

Another one dressed pretty much the same, but with a ponytail approached the teenage boy at the counter, having the same sheet with pictures. "You see these girls?"

I caught the kid's eye and shook my head. He better get the picture. I'd have no problem killing the man in front of the kid. It wouldn't be the first time.

In his Mario Brothers t-shirt he shook his head, "They moved."

"Where?"

The kid shrugged, "Away. A while ago, a month maybe."

The man seemed to notice me. He turned and asked me, "You know them?" He shoved the picture in my face. There was a row of canned fruit by my hand. I could smash his skull before he had a chance to yell. Or crush his windpipe. Kick his thigh and shock his femoral artery. There were so many ways I could kill him.

"Went to Columbia," I told him, using the same fake accent from earlier.

Another one came in and shouted, "Johan and Petar are gone! Liam too!" Both men hurried out, never knowing how close they came to dying.