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Franco stood in the shadows of the alleyway, taking comfort from Carlos and Alejandro, who flanked him. Their size and efficiency in fighting made them perfect choices for tonight's meeting.
Where was Josue? Franco, and the rest of the neighborhood, had heard through several contacts that they were to meet here, in this alley, at midnight. It was already five past, and Franco was getting edgy. He was always on the alert for an attack, and this had all the makings of an ambush.
He fingered the gun in his belt once more, caressing it as tenderly as he might touch Valeria if the girl ever responded to him anymore. Since having Ramon and going back to school, she hadn't shown much interest in him. And she'd caught him off guard tonight when she begged him to ignore his pride and quest for justice. Maybe they didn't have anything in common anymore.
His thoughts were interrupted by a black SUV as it turned down the alley. Loud rap pulsed from the base speakers, and the frame of the vehicle rocked precariously on the small tires. When the doors opened, Franco tensed, his hand automatically going to the butt of his pistol.
Three boys piled out of the SUV. Josue wasn't among them, and Franco whipped his head around, eyeing the other end of the alley, half expecting Josue to appear.
When the left rear door opened, Franco's attention returned to the SUV. He frowned as he saw Josue getting out, struggling with something. His nerves were stretched thin, and absurd possibilities ran through his mind. Did Josue bring a bomb...?
Suddenly the form in Josue's arms became clear under the halogen lamp of the lightpost. Franco squinted to make out the identity of the person Josue held, but they were wrapped in a length of canvas. When Josue tossed the bundle to the ground, the person grunted. The sound was distinctly feminine, and fear slithered up Franco's throat.
He stepped forward brashly. "You're late."
"Sorry, I had to stop by and collect a...package." Josue's voice was mocking, and his dark eyes were dead, all emotion murdered by the things he'd seen and done during his life on the streets.
He kicked the bundle at his feet with the toe of his heavy boot, eliciting a pained whimper. Franco held his breath as Josue knelt down and unwrapped the tarp. He cried out in protest when he recognized Valeria.
Her face was badly battered, and blood trickled from a cut on her forehead. Her mouth was taped shut. Her stricken eyes, filled with pain and shame, met his and slid away. Upon seeing her expression, Franco wasn't surprised to see she was naked when the rest of the tarp was stripped away. Her body was covered in bruises and cuts, and her hands were bound with black electrical tape.
"I can see why you like her," Josue commented softly, before waving a hand at his backup. "So can my boys. We all got a taste of her."
Rage exploded through Franco, and he snatched the handgun from his belt. His hands shook as he lined Josue up in his sights. His finger hovered on the trigger, but he froze when Josue brought his own gun up to Valeria's temple. "We're going for a ride, Franco."
Alejandro and Carlos stepped up beside Franco, holding their guns trained on two of the men behind Josue. Franco wanted to take comfort from their presence, but there was nothing they could do for him. "I'd be a fool to go with you."
Josue's mocking expression left no doubt of his opinion on Franco's intelligence. "We get in the Isuzu, and I'll leave your whore here with your two goons. Otherwise, she's the first to die."
Franco didn't even have to think about it. He dropped his pistol on the ground and slowly approached Josue, kneeling down beside Valeria. She still refused to meet his eyes as he gently pulled the tape from her swollen lips. "I'm sorry, baby."
"Touching." Josue's eyes narrowed. "Get in the truck."
Ignoring him, Franco gently picked up Valeria and carried her a few feet closer to Carlos and Alejandro. He was aware of Josue's gun aimed at his back the entire time. After laying Valeria near them, he said, "Don't interfere unless they break the deal."
He walked back to Josue, making no attempt to hide his loathing. "You're a cabrone!"
"Sticks and stones..." As Franco neared him, Josue slapped him across the face. Then he pulled Franco's arms behind his back as one of his boys bound them together with the black tape. "Turn around."
With dread, Franco turned around, swallowing the blood that filled his mouth from the cut on his lip where Josue's big ruby ring had left its mark. From the corner of his eye, he saw Josue raise his gun as he heard two of the boys behind them do the same. Carlos and Alejandro fell to the pavement before having a chance to fire a shot, taken out by Josue's men.
"Watch this." Josue lowered his gun to Valeria, who was sprawled on the pavement.
"No," Franco struggled to free his arms. He tried throwing himself at Josue, but the man who'd taped his wrists pulled him back. "We had a deal."
Josue ignored him as he slowly aimed, prolonging the torture. The sound of the gun wasn't as loud as Franco had expected, considering he stood less than three feet from Josue.
In shock, he watched as Josue dropped the gun and fell to his knees on the sidewalk, futilely trying to staunch the red flow of his life as it streamed from his heart. He fell forward, hiding his surprised face against the cracked cement. He gurgled once, then twitched and stopped moving.
Franco looked around, searching for the person who'd shot Josue. Josue's boys didn't bother to stick around to find out who'd shot their leader. They ran for the Isuzu and pulled away with a screech of tires.
After they'd left, a shadowy form slowly detached itself from the black shroud of night to reveal the form of Father Jerome. He was holding a revolver in a trembling hand, and his dark complexion looked gray. He looked at Franco, then down at the gun. "I couldn't let you make my mistake."
"Padre?" Franco blinked, trying to assimilate what he'd seen.
"Is he dead?"
Franco kicked Josue's body in the side, eliciting no response. "Yeah." He watched as Father Jerome put on his stole and removed a small bible from the pocket of his overcoat. He knelt on the bloody ground and administered Last Rites to the boy he'd killed to save Valeria and Franco. Gradually the prayers became more personal as the father asked God for forgiveness. The sounds of sirens soon filled the night, but even as the first car arrived at the scene of the strange tableau, Father Jerome did not move from his knees, and did not cease his prayers. "Give me absolution, God."
The End
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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