Free Gringa - in the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug Lord - 2 by Eve Rabi Page B

deserved to die.
    Christa – God I hate her – what she did to Diablo. But she is smart enough know how to handle Diablo; keeping him angry, guarded and paranoid.
    As for Santana – now I really feel sorry for her. Christa must have put so much pressure on her to help control Diablo – keep him on a leash to ensure he never strays, yet he has – he wants me now. Santana must hate me because I came between her and Diablo and now she’s almost obsolete. Knowing what I know now, I would like to reach out to her and tell her that I have no intention of taking her place. But would she believe me?
     
    *
    The FBI – gotta keep my eyes opened, peeled, so I can report to them, remember?
    I see a man frequenting the ranch – spending umpteen hours locked away with Diablo. Senor Vito. He’s dapper, sixtyish and seems to be giving Christa a peptic ulcer as she’s always threatening to kill the poor bastard.
    Who is he? Why’s he stressing Christa? How come he’s Diablo’s new best friend? Diablo seems to lose interest in me these days – has Senor Vito anything to do with it? Imagine me reporting back to the FBI – the conversation would go something like this: ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but Diablo is no longer interested in me and spends all his time with an older man these days.’
    ‘You mean he’s gay? Big scary brute prefers older men, Payton?’
    ‘Eh…I don’t think …’
    ‘Maybe you need more hi-lites. Some teeth whitening? A boob-job?’
    ‘If it’ll help. If you’re prepared to pay for…’
    ‘Maybe, it’s time to send someone pretty in place of you. Like Paris.’
    This is the part where I tell them to get fucked, grab one of their weapons and open fire on all of them.
    In my dreams.
    Anyway, Maria and Rosa appear to know what role Senor Vito plays but are mum about it, piquing my curiosity further.
    I make mental notes about Senor Vito for the FBI – white hair, shiny shoes, gleaming buttons, a mole on his chin ... probably a big drug dealer – cocaine, crystal meth, crack – who knows?
    *
    About two weeks later, Maria accosts me. ‘Diablo, he want you to get dressed nicely. He taking you somewhere tonight, Senorita.’
    ‘Taking me whe…? Maria, listen to your English. You finally got it!’
    She beams. ‘Of course Senorita. I teach you English all the time.’
    Premature celebration on my part. Still progress, if you know what I mean.
    ‘Finally, I get to go somewhere, huh?’ I’m really bored most days and boring , I suppose. Diablo hasn’t been at the ranch for the last three days – gone with Senor Vito somewhere. Frankly, I’m wondering why he bothers to even have me here. I’m just sitting on his shelf like a trophy. (I prefer to liken myself to an Oscar or a Golden Globe, though.) ‘Where’s he taking me?’
    ‘I don’ know Senorita, but you will see, eh?’ She opens my closet and scans it. ‘He say you must look veeerrry nice.’
    ‘Oh, he did, did he?’
    She’s doing it again – she’s getting it right.
    Remembering my mission, (because I chose to accept it) I start to stress over my dress and make-up. Tonight, I want to look breathtaking, fantastic, jaw-dropping. I want him to just stare and be at a loss for words the moment his bloodshot eyes rests on me.
    Me – I’ll be cool, nonchalant, appear not to notice his ... his enthrallment. The more I think about it, the more I like the idea and the tighter my sweater becomes. My top is snug and sexy, my skirt is short, flared, allowing glimpses of thigh as I move.
    I spend hours doing my hair and make-up and when I feel everything is almost perfect, I back away from the mirror and listen out for Diablo.
    At around six, the men, as usual gather in my villa for dinner. But tonight they are edgy and keep looking out the window. They hover in the entrance instead of making their way to the dining-room, arousing my curiosity further.
    Even Maria and Rosa are behaving oddly – giggling and talking in whispers. What