Out of all the clubs and venues in the area, I went with the newest, shiniest one in sight, figuring that was where someone with Rio’s tastes would be. And, of course, my instincts were right. Inside the club, I spotted the two goons pretty quickly as they tried unsuccessfully to blend in with the gay crowd. With no time to canvass the whole place, I had no idea how many more might be around, so I prepared to do some reconnaissance work.
Figuring I’d play the role of a lipstick lesbian, I found a nearby butch chick and approached her. From my vantage point at the bar, I could watch the goons while they watched my brother. I made some small talk with the lesbian and got her worked up over my boobies, which were peering over the top of my dress. Then I convinced her to show me around, taking a route past one of the thugs.
Dude was so out of place in a gay bar, and unlike me, he couldn’t play gay, even for a minute. As I walked by with my fake date, he took notice. Bold motherfucker actually reached out to caress my free hand as I moved past him. It was just what I was hoping he’d do. The touch was just long enough for me to stick the prick with a prick of my own—a tiny needle to his wrist that I’d concealed in my hand. Probably felt like a static shock to him, or the electricity that existed between us in his deluded mind.
It was going to take a minute or two for the poison to make its way to his heart. So, after only a few more steps with my impromptu companion, I suddenly declined my “tour,” leaving her to curse me out as a fickle bitch.
I was moving into position to take out the other goon when his partner keeled over, grasping his chest. Rio suddenly bolting threw a monkey wrench into my plans. When I got caught in the stampede of bodies fleeing the building, I was unable to move, swept up in the sea of people rushing for the front door. I watched my remaining target take off in the direction of Rio and the soon-to-be dead dude from the hotel. I waited outside the club with the rest of the confused and curious, but neither Rio nor the Mexican exited my way.
By the time I made it around to the alley, no one was in sight, so I hopped in my rental and went driving in circles, trying to find that Suburban again. I got the lucky break I needed in the form of Orlando’s call telling me to go to the hotel. As I left there now, I hoped I’d catch another lucky break, because I had no idea where Rio had gone.
On Santa Monica Boulevard, I decided to head back toward Alejandro’s place as fast as I could. That was when I spotted the Suburban, just as it was about to enter the 405. Too many cars separated us to do anything, so I had to follow it onto the freeway. The closer I let the SUV get to Alejandro’s turf south of here, the stickier the situation would be. I had to think fast. I had to think of something that would get my brother out of there without getting both of us killed.
As I shifted the Mustang GT and picked up speed, my mind went to a bad place. What if Rio was already dead? If anything happened to my brother, I would damn sure release my anger on more than just the guy driving the SUV. Shit, I’d take down the whole population of Mexicans in L.A. if I had to.
C’mon, girl. Stay focused, I reminded myself. Negativity wasn’t helpful at the moment. I had to remember my training and keep my eyes on the prize.
Thinking on the fly, I switched lanes to the right and accelerated to overtake them. I stayed within the flow of traffic, gradually easing alongside so as to get a look, but the damn tint didn’t yield much info for me. The only person I could see was the driver. I was pretty sure it was the one from the club that I didn’t get to. I was resolved to rectify that like a mutha now.