"How long are you going to go on this tirade?" Claudia places her hand on mine. I didn't even realize she parked until I returned to reality.
I turn my head to face her. "Until they're all dead. Or I am. Whichever comes first."
"You're not going anywhere. I'll resurrect you from the damn grave. Hear me?"
I grin because I know she's serious. She'd probably have her witchy great-grandmother chanting incantations over my headstone until I crossed back over.
"Why do you put up with me?" I sigh.
"Because you're my chiquitina. And if I ever need to collect a debt, I know who to call." She smiles cheekily.
"I am good for one thing."
"Better than good for nothing." She digs around in her little Louis Vuitton purse and pulls out the lipstick tube. "Put some of this on. Look hot for Valentino."
"Do you think red is my color?" I swipe the bold color across my lips.
Claudia raises one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. "Red is your fucking bitch."
Habana has the hottest salsa night in three counties. At least that's what Claudia boasts. I really just go for the booze and to ogle the eye candy. Latin men can seriously move.
We walk into the medium-sized room that is primarily a dance floor and wall-length bar. Purple and pink strobe lights bounce off the ceiling as a parade of couples swivel their hips, engage in two-step warfare, and spin around the room to poppy, fast-paced beats. The atmosphere is always lively, I'll give it that.
"Go get laid," Claudia tosses out as she spies her first victim-I mean, dance partner. A cutie in a pinstriped button-up sipping a Corona at the bar. "I'll be busy on the dance floor." I watch her flutter away, her beaded mini skirt wagging across her hips as she seeks out her prey. Poor guy, he has no idea Hurricane Claudia is about to hit him.
Go get laid. Good idea. My blood is still simmering from the fresh kill, and I need a release. A very loud, orgasmic release.
I head to the back of the club. I gave very explicit instructions to Claudia's aunt. Have him be waiting by the bathrooms with a red drink so I can identify him.
Although Claudia has her life together now, that wasn't always the case. Before going to nursing school and getting away from her abusive father, she was heavily into drugs and ran with a bad crowd. A really bad crowd. Her family is very unique. Sort of like mine. Her aunt runs a successful "dating" service in the city and is the reason Claudia got clean. Although it's a very legit business, she does have some underground contacts. Which is how she found Valentino and the string of other men I've gotten acquainted with in a bathroom stall.
As for the rest of Claudia's family? Her scumbag father is in jail. Lucky for him. Because if he wasn't, I'd make him wish for the grave.
She also has four brothers who are the perfect split between good and evil. Two run with a gang, engage in criminal activities, and are complete pieces of shit. I would gladly put them both six feet under. The other two are stand-up citizens. Have jobs and families, and love and support Claudia unconditionally. They can live.
Claudia is the only real thing in my life. Her friendship is tangible. She makes me feel normal when it's clear I'm anything but. For Claudia, I would do so much more than just collect a debt. If there's one thing Benny drilled into my head, it's loyalty. And my loyalty is stronger than war or peace or even death.
I spot a tall, shadowy figure in the corner outside the bathroom doors. As I get closer, I spy the red drink he's holding in his hand. A crimson highball glass of something.
I approach him casually, and his handsome face lights up with a smile. Claudia wasn't kidding, he is gorgeous.
"Ghost, I presume?" He gives me a once-over.
"In the flesh." I ogle him right back. I've used the cover Ghost ever since Benny was killed. Ever since it became my personal vendetta to pick off every single one of Gianni Velona's foot soldiers and then Gianni himself-the man responsible for taking Benny's life and taking him from me.
My nickname on the street is Ghostface Killer, because they don't know who I am or that I'm coming until I strike. They don't even know I'm a woman. Although that might all change after tonight.
I'm not one for small talk or wasting time, so I take Valentino's hand and lead him into the women's room. We stride by two women chattering in front of the mirror, and I feel their judgmental eyes on me. One whispers, "Slut," just as Valentino and I lock ourselves in the handicap stall.
"You're just jealous you have no one to fuck you!" I call out as I unzip my hoodie.
I hear their gasps and I smile. Prude bitches.
Moments later, the two women are vapor as Valentino and I get down to business. His eyes are like two shiny green pieces of glass as he scans my slutty lace bra. Like a perfectly provisioned craftsman, he pushes me against the wall and kisses me like the pro he is. I match every one of his fevered tongue strokes as he massages my breasts and grinds his hips against mine. After a few rapid minutes, we're both breathing like beasts and clawing at each other's clothes. I can tell already, this guy is going to be worth every penny.