Disclaimer: I'm sick of writing disclaimers!
A/N: I'm sorry the update took so long; I've been suffering from Severe Writers' Block. Still, thanks for all of the positive feedback!
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"You can close your eyes to reality, but not to memory" -Stainslaw J. Lee
Hotel Delfino
Cancun, Mexico
El Primero stood on the 18th floor balconey of his resort Hotel Delfino. He watched the sun rise over the Gulf, and knew that his wife, Monica, wouldn't be up for another 5 hours or so, nor would their young children, Rafael and Ana. Good, he thought. I can't even hear myself think with them around.
He missed Ricardo and Josefina, his first wife, so much that it hurt to think about them. I am probably the only gangster that gets teary eyed looking through old photo albums. That is why I will do anything to prove that my son was not the monster the Americans say he was.
Felipe Cerrata, El Primero's personal assistant/ second-in-command, cleared his throat. The druglord jumped slightly and turned around, scowling. "Buenos dias, Jefe," Cerrata said nervously.
"Buenos dias. What do you want?"
Cerrata swallowed. "You see, I have some good news and bad news." Give him the good news first, he thought. Maybe it will distract him. "Avarro and Guitan have the files of the two New York City police detectives safely in their possession."
El Primero half-smiled. Before he went to Boston, Ricardo spent several months in New York City, seeing the sights. Then, he was accused of rape and murder, and harassed by two detectives, Stabler and Benson. Due to a technicality (inadmissable evidence), Ricardo was able to avoid indictment and, ultimately, Rikers prison. However, he left the city with a dislocated collarbone, courtesy of Stabler's rough treatment. Ricardo never got justice for that mistreatment, for their lawsuit failed. All of the Americans that made my son suffer will pay. "Did you send them the free vacation packages?"
"Si. They should arrive at their precinct some time today." That wasn't so hard.
"And the bad news?"
Shit! "Er, uh, well... Santos is dead." God I hope I'm not next!
"Oh." El Primero didn't appear to be the slightest bit perturbed.
"Oh?"
The crime boss nodded. "It's the Americans. And I know who's next: the lawyers, Avarro and Guitan."
"Should I warn them?" Cerrata asked. How does he know?
"No. Instead, I want two of our men at the offices to meet them. Guitan and Avarro are to know nothing about the Americans or Santos. Understood?"
"Yes, Jefe."
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Second Floor
Law Offices of Javier Avarro and Carlos Guitan
Suburb of Mexico City, Mexico
"Okay, so we managed to get inside the building without being detected," said Woody as Jordan picked the lock on the door to Avarro and Guitan's records room. "But don't you think that there'll be tighter security in the records room? You know, like cameras?"
"That's why you're going to stand watch while I break in and find the files." She pointed at the stairs. "Stand over there."
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said snidely, as he did what she said.
Jordan heard a satisfying click as the door finally unlocked. Making sure that her latex gloves were securely in place- to avoid leaving fingerprints-, she twisted the knob and stepped inside.
The small room was filled with row after row of file cabinets. This is just perfect! How the hell am I going to find anything?
She twisted the moonstone ring from her father around her finger. The stone was illuminated by light coming through a single window. For a moment, the moonstone appeared to be red. Like blood. Dad's blood. She shivered. Don't go there. These visions or whatever they're called won't stop until this nightmare is over, which can't happen unless I find those files.
In the far right corner of the room, a lone file cabinet caught Jordan's eye. 'American Interests', it was labeled in English. Huh. What do they mean by interests?
Using the screwdriver she'd used on the door, she forced her way in. Neatly organized by name were seven beige colored files, three of which had a large red X slashed across the front. "'Melvin Brooks,'" she read. "'Terminated March of last year.'" Then, she found Max Cavanaugh and Garrett Macy's files, both with large X's on the front. Well, that was easy enough. A little too easy if you ask me.
She flipped open two other files. "'Elliot Stabler, NYPD' and 'Olivia Benson, also NYPD'". What do these people have against American cops?
She opened the other two, and their contents made her gasp out loud. Oh my God! Have they been...
Two gunshots rang out. She heard Woody shout something unrecognizable. "Woody!" She picked up all seven American files and ran to the door.
An unknown man stood in the doorway, holding a gun. Jordan felt her insides constrict with fear. The man smiled. "What have we here?" he said.
Jordan felt cold as she realized that, for the first time during their vendetta, she and Woody weren't the ones in control.
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A/N: I love cliffhangers, don't you?