Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug Lord by Eve Rabi Read Free Book Online

killing while his hombres dance around me.
                  Good God ! D oes he think I’m a virgin? Well, if he is, I’m not going to correct the fucker.
                      A burst of loud music startles me . I spring to me feet. Omigod! It’s happening the way I imagined - loud music, the beating of the drums ...
                  Wait a minute - the music is modern, hip-hop - the kind I listen to on my iPod. Definitely not sacrificial music – however that sounds.  
                       I tiptoe to the window and peep through the blinds. The place is now lit up with strings of coloured lights and people are drinking and dancing - a carnival atmosphere prevails. The place is no longer eerie.
                  An hour passes and from the looks of it, I’m not going to be sacrificed tonight. I relax and watch the partying through my blinds.
                  Christa is dancing with a young man – rotating her hips slowly, suggestively - her version of dirty dancing , I suppose . She uses a scarf to lasso him, then bumps and grinds against him. Eeeewww! Considering her age and the fact that her sons are present - I call that inappropriate.
                  Then I feel someone watching me. I look to my right - someone’s in the shadows smoking a cigarette.
                  Diablo .
                  I see the whites of his eyes – has to be him.
                  I jerk back, lose my balance and land on my ass. Quickly, I get up, grab a chair and w edge it under the door handle. As if that’s gonna keep the psycho out. 
                      For a while, I stand and just stare at the door, waiting to see if the handle rattles, expecting someone to turn the handle anytime now. When noth ing happens, I slowly back away - b ack to the edge of the bed where I sit and gnaw at my nails. 
                  Weary from my eventful and exhausting day, I eventually crawl under the covers and lie in the dark and wait. 
                  Around midnight, the music dies and place is ghostly -quiet again. People seem to have retired for the night. I toss around in the dark, desperately wanting to sleep but sleep evades me . Must be the adrenalin. I’m still on tenterhooks and jump each time I hear a sound.
                       The mountain climb was harsh and gruelling, so I should be sleeping soundly, but I’m not. I’m waiting for the Devil to come and claim me.    
     
    *               *               *
     
    I awaken to the sounds of birds chirping. Sunlight streams into my room through the blinds. I fight the cobwebs of sleep and peer around, events of the previous night flooding my fatigued brain – Diablo !
                  My fear returns and nestles in the pit of my stomach. The clock on the wall says 6 AM . I lie really still and listen for sounds, voices. Nothing.
                  Finally, I slide out of bed and poke around, opening draws and looking for, well, stuff . 
                  I tiptoe to the window and adjust the blinds and sunlight floods the room. In the natural light, my room is nicer – light, airy with beautiful views of the valley. I look out of my window and listen to the sounds of the ocean and I think of Juan and Enfermera and a feeling of sadness washes over me - I miss Enfermera so much.
                  I hear a voice and look to my left. It’s Santana on the balcony of another r oom, talking to someone. I drop out of sight but still p eep through the blinds . She has a sheet draped around her and her hair looks dishevelled, like she just woke up. I can’t see the other person’s face as yet. When she moves, the sheet dislodges and I get a glimpse of her bare breasts. She laughs, picks up the sheet and drapes it around her again. V oyeuristic , yet I