Chapter 43

ELLA

Half an hour later, I was sitting on the wall outside Andrea’s house.

The driveway had filled with trucks and dozens of men, walking back and forth all with machine guns strapped over their chests and determined looks in their eyes.

In between making orders, Andrea glanced over to me and looked me up and down before thrusting the clipboard he was holding to the man next to him and coming over to me.

“What’s going on?” I asked as he sat beside me on the wall.

“You’ll see,” he said. “All in good time.”

Of course, that was the answer. It usually was.

“Come,” he announced, standing up and holding out his hand. “I want to show you something.”

I looked up but didn’t move. He raised an impatient eyebrow, maintaining cold eye contact, and I eventually stood up. Instead of taking his hand, I walked past him, which of course only amused him.

“By all means, lead the way, Blanca,” he said. “To the garden.”

I walked through the house to the back garden with Andrea following me.

Luciano was sitting on the patio, sharpening a stick with a knife. He looked up at me and smiled before lifting the stick up to his face and examining the sharp point.

There were three empty beer bottles on the table, which Andrea then grabbed before balancing them on the wall at the edge of the patio.

“You ever shot a gun, Blanca?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

He smiled before taking the gun that had been strapped around his chest off and holding it out to me.

“Take it,” he said.

He held it in both hands, the black metal gleaming in the sun and the weight of it tensing his forearms.

After a little more encouragement, I finally took it from him and stood motionless, completely unsure of what to do.

“This should be good…,” Luciano remarked from behind us.

He let out a short laugh before stepping behind me and reaching around to guide my hands to the correct position.

“If you’re gonna be in this cartel, Blanca, you’ve got to learn to shoot,” he said.

“You trust me?” I asked. “What if I shoot you?”

“You won’t,” he replied confidently as he kissed my neck. “Now shut up and lemme show you what to do.”

He brought one hand underneath, toward the front, and the other to the trigger and kept both of his on top of mine.

“Got it?” he asked once I was steadily holding it.

I nodded, and keeping one hand still on top of mine on the gun, he brought the other to my waist and turned my body to the side.

“Keep both eyes on the middle bottle and pull the trigger,” he said.

I did as he said, but I was not greeted with the sound of breaking glass. Only the loud bang of a shot.

“Hold it steady, Blanca,” he said, gripping my arms. “Use your strength and try again.”

This time I locked my eyes on the bottle and took a deep breath, keeping myself as still as possible. Andrea slowly let go of me and stepped to the side.

The bottle was brown glass and small, probably only a pint. From what I could tell, the label, although written in Spanish, read something about a tiger, and it was 7 percent alcohol.

I shot.

The glass shattered and crumbled to the floor in pieces.

“Good job, Blanca,” Andrea said, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Impressive.”

He then walked over to the wall and crouched to pick up the broken glass.

His back was turned, and I still had the gun.

Slowly, I raised it and focused again. This time not on a glass bottle, but on Andrea’s head.

I momentarily glanced over to Luciano, who had noticed my advancement.

His eyes glistened as if they were encouraging me, begging me for the drama, while he sat relaxed in his chair, making no movement toward stopping me.

I could feel the courage bubbling inside me. He was turned, and there was still glass on the floor.

This was it. My chance.

My finger played at the trigger, feeling the simple piece of metal with so much potential.

Hands? Steady. Target? Close and stationary. Chance of missing? Low.

All I had to do was pull the trigger.

My target then got to his feet and turned to face me. Unsurprised by my position (aiming a huge gun right at him), he gave a dark glare.

“Go ahead, Blanca. I’m unarmed. You have the control,” he urged, holding his hands up in a relaxed manner.

I kept it pointed at him as he stepped closer, a menacing grin creeping onto his face.

~Do it, Ella. Do it now.~

I lowered the gun, and he laughed shortly.

“As I said, you won’t shoot me,” he said. “Now shoot those last two bottles and don’t miss.”