Chapter 43 Chapter 43

The next morning, we drove back to Venezuela and I soon found myself

back in the first house, Andrea had taken me to.

I shuddered as I entered the bedroom, the memories seizing me. The

sheets had been changed and were fresh and neat, hiding evidence of

my struggle but it was still alive and well in my mind.

“It won't be long before the effect of those pills have set in," Andrea

said, "Then we will celebrate our marriage.”

His words sickened my stomach. Four days had passed since he last

forced himself upon me and I'm not sure I could survive it again.

"Anyway," he began taking his shirt off. "I'm going into Caracas to deal

with the last of Richardo Gonzalez's cockroaches that avoided my little

birthday gift to him. I will be back late this evening.”

By “birthday gift’ of course, Andrea meant the bomb that blew up

Gonzalez's entire house, all his friends and his body which had been

strangled only two minutes before.

"Chico will be here,” he added putting on a new shirt. "And I have told

him to make sure you take that pill this evening. Don't you dare cause

any trouble, okay?"

I nodded.

"Adios, Sefora," he said, kissing my cheek.

"Bye," I replied quietly as he left the room, "..hope you get shot..." I

added when I was sure he was out of earshot.

When I heard the front door close, I instantly ripped the ring off my

finger and threw it onto the nightstand unable to look at it for any

longer. It felt good to be rid of it but I was still in this room which his

scent overwhelmed so strongly.

So I made my way down the hall in search of a fresh room to sit. One

Andrea clearly hadn't spent much time in.

My first thought was a library. He was clearly an intelligent man but he

didn't strike me as much of a reader. But surely a man as rich as him

would have a book or two?

And he did. A whole room full. And in a room that was free of his scent.

I ran my finger along the spines of the books, scanning for something

to read. Sure enough, they were all in Spanish but there was also a

Spanish-English dictionary and that combined with my pre-existing

Latin and Italian knowledge, I was able to sit down and slowly decipher

a Latino thriller. Although continually having to pause and refer to the

dictionary which somewhat destroyed the suspense, I found myself

getting completely engrossed in the book. I also considered how much

I hoped Andrea hadn't read it. The main character was a serial killer

with some fairly creative habits and the last thing Andrea needed was

any inspiration.

At about 7 o clock in the evening, a knock on the door sounded.

"Yes?" I asked and the door opened to reveal Chico.

A warm, spicy smell also floated in through the air.

“I made chilli con carne. You should come eat and take your pill," he

said.

I nodded and followed him down to the kitchen.

"So you're bodyguard, driver, cook and babysitter now?" I asked as he

handed me a plate of food.

"I do anything the boss desires,” he replied. "Tonight, that is making

sure you swallow this," he added handing me a plate with just one of

the singular pink pills on it and a glass of water.

"Anything he desires?" I asked with a wink.

He almost smiled before turning back to the pot of chili.

"Eat with me," I said.

"No, gringa. I don't fraternise with the prisoners,” he replied.

"Please. And I'm not his prisoner. I'm his wife," I said patting the table

opposite him

"Really?" he asked. "I don't see no ring."

I smiled awkwardly and put my hand under the table.

"Fine," he said. "I will eat with you but you better put that ring back on

before he gets home.”

He then sat down opposite me and didn't say another word as we ate.

Just as I had finished, a car pulled up outside, it's wheels screeching on

the drive.

The car door then promptly slammed and multiple sets of fast

footsteps came to the door before if flung open and five or six men

flooded in.

Andrea was at the front with his arm around a man who's head hung

low and was being dragged, his feet scraping on the floor by him and

another man on the other side. The others followed quickly behind as

blood poured onto the floor.

"Shit," I cursed.

Andrea began barking orders to the men in fast, deep Spanish as they

brought the casualty who I could now see has a gaping wound on his

side to the kitchen table. Blood gushed out and had instantly covered

the table the floor and I could see that Andrea's shirt was already

entirely red.

"Move the plates, Blanca," he said to me and I only had a few seconds

to get mine and Chico's plates out of the way before the man was laid

down on his back on the table.

He let out a deep groan as people rushed around him.

A bucket of water was brought over and a pile of rags which Andrea

held on the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

I watched dumbstruck as his shirt was cut off him and his head lolled

backwards.

"What happened?” I asked.

"He was shot," Andrea replied lifting up the rag to look.

"Don't do that,” I said quickly. "You need to keep the pressure on it or

he'll bleed out in minutes.”

He looked up at me briefly before nodding and putting the rags back

down.

"Push down hard to stop the bleeding,” I said. "But try not to crush the

ribs because they're right there,” I added pointing to just above the

wound. "And that could cause internal bleeding.”

He nodded again and did exactly what I said.

"The woman is in charge," he told his men. "La Mujer esta a cargo, si?"

They all looked from Andrea to me hesitantly but nodded, knowing

better than to question him.

"I need a clean cloth,” I added looking at the man's paled face. "And

somebody put some antiseptic or salt in that water.”

Andrea repeated in Spanish and his men began scrambling around and

soon enough I had a new cloth in my hand and the water was being

sterilised.

I brought my ear to his chest and listened to his heart and then his

breathing.

"Fuck," I cursed.

His head was flopped to the side and his eyes half closed as he let out a

hoarse croak.

"What?!" Andrea said.

"He's stopped breathing,” I replied tilted his head back.

"Then do something-" he began stepping forward.

"You just keep the pressure on the wound and let me deal with it, I

know what to do," I shouted.

He immediately shut up and just held the rags on the man's side as I

glanced down his throat. As far as I could see, there was nothing so I

brought my mouth to his and began to breathe for us both.

Andrea watched as I inflated his lungs three times before listening to

his chest again and repeating.

"Is he conscious?" he asked.

I shook my head, "He's lost a lot of blood and has been starved of

oxygen."

"Will he live?" he questioned.

"I don't know yet," I replied.

The fourth time I gave him mouth to mouth, his chest finally contracted

and he took a huge breath of air.

I allowed my self to let out a sigh of relief for a few seconds but my

work wasn't done yet.

"How much blood did he lose?" I asked.

"The back of the car is drowning in it, the kitchen looks like a massacre

scene,” he replied. "He's lost gallons.”

"You've got to take him to a hospital,” I said. "He's gonna need a

transfusion and stitches.”

"And sentence him to the rest of his life in prison?!" Andrea asked. "He

stays here.”

"And dies on your kitchen table?" I asked. "What's worse?!"

"Do everything you can to save him," he replied.

The next hour was terrible. I could practically feel this man's life fading

in my hands. Only the faintest heartbeat and weakest breaths reassured

me he was still alive as I worked tirelessly to keep him that way.

He still lay entirely still but the wound had atleast begun to clot and

when I ordered Andrea to slowly remove the pressure, we were met

with only a slight oozing of blood.

"Chico, get the surgical thread and needle,” Andrea ordered

Chico nodded and disappeared and opened a drawer in the kitchen

and pulled a box out which he then handed to me, inside was a real of

blue sterile tape and a needle still in its clinical wrapper.

"Did you steal this from a hospital?” I joked.

Andrea looked at me blankly and then I remembered who he was and

how obvious the answer was.

I then dipped the cloth in the water and cleaned the wound.

"The bullet is still in there?" I asked.

He nodded.

I turned to the medical kit beside me and dug around for a pair of

tweezers.

"There might be two,” Andrea added as I brought the tweezers to the

wound.

"If he wakes up now, somebody knock him out, okay?” I said looking up

to the men. "I need him completely still."

They all nodded and I began to search through the blood and tissue for

the bullet.

It wasn't long before I felt something that definitely wasn't human body

and pulled it out revealing a huge metal bullet. Right next to it, was

another.

"Will you thread the needle, please Chico," I said. "But disinfect your

hands with the gel first."

He obeyed as I retrieved the final bullet before handing it to me.

I took a deep breath and pulled the bright lamp one of the men had set

up on the table closer to the wound.

"Have you done this be-" Andrea began.

"Ssh," I snapped.

He stopped and stayed quiet the whole time that I sewed the flesh of

the man back together. I did a neat job and not a drop of blood

escaped once I was done.

I then wiped the entire area with the antiseptic and soaked up the

blood from around him.

"That's all I can do," I said to Andrea. "Now we just wait.”

He nodded and stepped away into the kitchen running a hand through

his hair.

He then flicked his wrist to his men. "Go to your stations, I will keep you

updated.”

A few minutes later, it was just Andrea and I in the kitchen..well and the

half-dead man.

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Jaime," he replied.

I looked at his face as he lay there unconscious. He was young. Not a

kid but his stubbly beard wasn't quite complete enough to belong to a

man.

"Will you care if he dies?" I asked

"What sort of question is that?" he questioned.

"You didn't seem to have a problem killing your own men before," I said

thinking back to when he shot four of his men in the warehouse in

Mexico after I gave their names to Leo.

"Did I shoot those bullets, Blanca?" he asked pointing to the two still in

on the table that had been in Jaime. "No. So I don’t want him to die. If

he does, that's life and I won't dwell on it."

I nodded and went to wash the blood off my hands in the sink.

He then poured a glass of tequila and looked back to me, "Where's

your ring?"

I looked down to my hand, realising that due to Andrea's abrupt and

chaotic arrival, I had never put it back on as Chico had advised.

"Oh-" I began. "I didn't want to get blood on it."

He nodded and took a swig of the tequila.

"Get some sleep, Blanca," he said. "I'll watch him and wake you if

anything changes."

I nodded, "We'll take it in turns,” I said sitting down on a nearby sofa.

"And good job," he added. "I was certain he'd be dead within the hour.”

I smiled briefly before laying my head down on the sofa and falling

dead asleep. I woke at 3 am and took over watch from Andrea but

there was no movement until 5 am when Jaime slowly began to stir.

At first, there was just a low groan and then the twitch of his hand.

Soon enough he opened his eyes and looked around the room before a

whole wave of confusion and panic began to set in.

I quickly approached him and put my hands on his shoulders to try and

stop him sitting up and disrupting the stitches, "Stay still.”

This only made him more restless and he pushed against.

I didn't speak a word of Spanish, how was I supposed to reassure him?

"Andrea!" I shouted. He was asleep on the sofa but quickly woke up.

"Andrea?" Jaime asked. "Donde estoy!?"

"Ughh...Casa...casa de Martinez," I stuttered.

He just looked at me even more confused. Fortunately, he was weak

from his injuries and with every movement he winced in agony so my

attempts to keep him down lasted long enough for Andrea to take

over.

He put a single hand on Jaime's shoulder and looked into his eyes,

causing him to instantly calm and stay still.

"Jaime, Jaime, Jaime," he said putting a hand on his shoulder before

speaking to him in Spanish.

I watched as Andrea explained everything, pointing to the stitches, the

removed bullets and then me.

"Gracias, Sefora,” he said to me in a weak whisper. "Thank you," he

added in his best English.

I nodded and smiled before I helped Andrea move him upstairs to a

spare bed where he spent what was left of the night.

"Your skills impressed me, Blanca,” Andrea said as we lay in our bed, the

light of dawn already filling the room. "I've had men with injuries

nowhere near as bad as that die on me before.”

"Well, I had plenty of practice in my mate's army," I replied. "First

patient I've treated on a kitchen table though.”

"Hmm," he said. "He's your responsibility until he is well enough to go

home."

I nodded, "Okay."

I suppose it gives me something to do.