Killing Sarai Read Online Free PDF Page B

trouble getting the other half of my money.” It was a statement, but at the same time, a question.
    Izel grins. “Of course.” She tilts her head to one side. “She’s gotten to you already.”
    No answer. I know Izel is referring to me.
    “The girl wasn’t bought or sold, just so you know,” she adds.
    “I didn’t ask.”
    “You didn’t need to.”
    Izel looks toward the mirror again, without moving her head.
    “Going to be the hero?” she says this with sarcasm lacing her voice.
    “Hardly,” the American says. “I’m going to use her as leverage.”
    I swallow hard.
    Should’ve kept my mouth shut….
    “That won’t sit well with Javier. She wasn’t part of the deal. You keep the girl and Javier will not be happy.” A strand of black hair falls away from her face. She reaches up as if to move the rest of her hair away, but her hand stops halfway and she places it back down beside her. Anger helps to hide the fear in her face somewhat. She knows that he’ll blow her brains out the back of her head.
    “The girl stays with me until I kill Guzmán and then we will make the trade: her for the rest of my money.”
    “And what if Javier doesn’t give a shit?”
    “You wouldn’t be here now if he didn’t.”

CHAPTER FOUR
     
     
     
     
     
    Izel rounds her chin defiantly, the skin around her dark eyes peppered with tiny flecks of blood-splatter.
    “You’re making a mistake,” she spats, defeat in her voice. “If you want a girl, Javier will give you one. Just not that one. You’ll only make him your enemy by doing this.”
    I know that worry in her voice all too well. When Javier is unhappy, he tends to blame it on Izel. If she doesn’t return to the compound with me, he’ll beat her senseless. As much as I hate her for the things she’s done to me, I can’t help but pity her sometimes, too.
    “Your offer offends my intelligence,” the American says. “She is the one I want because she is the one he treasures the most. If Javier has no ill intentions then he should have nothing to worry about.” Izel glances toward the bathroom door quickly while he speaks. “I keep the girl until I kill Guzmán. Javier pays me the remainder of my money. I give the girl back. We all leave with what we want.”
    I want to dash out of the bathroom and try for one of the cars outside, but I know I won’t make it. My palms are sweating and stinging. I cut my left hand somewhere at some point. I can’t remember when it happened.
    Izel curses him in Spanish and presses the palms of her hands on the seat beneath her and begins to rise into a stand.
    The American very casually raises his gun and she freezes, anger and resistance in her face.
    “Fold your hands together behind the chair,” the American says.
    “Go fuck yourself.”
    Thwap! Izel’s body jerks sideways, almost knocking the chair over with her in it. “Mother fucker !” she cries out, holding her hand over a fresh bullet wound on the opposite thigh to match the other one.
    The American never moves, his expression and posture always casual and controlled.
    “Fold your hands together behind the chair,” he says once more with the exact amount of calm as before.
    This time, Izel is compliant. Reluctant and defiant as always, but compliant.
    “Come out of the bathroom,” I hear the American say.
    I don’t want to. I quietly push my back against the wall, thrusting my bound hands over my chest and lock my fingers together nervously in front of me. I sniffle back the tears, the taste of salt draining down the back of my throat. What should I do? If I just stand here like this it’ll only prolong the inevitable. There’s no way out of this bathroom except through that door.
    Finally, I do as he says.
    Trying to push the door open the rest of the way, I have to shoulder it hard because of the body lying on the floor on the other side. I try not to look when I step around the man’s left arm, contorted unnaturally behind him, but I glimpse