Chapter 2 - The Flower Truck
Marisol snatched the photograph off the wet concrete.
Her hands shook violently as she looked up at the heavily armed men.
"Why do you have a picture of my brother?" she demanded.
The lead rescuer ignored her question and hoisted the injured boss onto his shoulder.
"Move," he commanded, gesturing toward the stairs with the barrel of his rifle.
Marisol refused to budge, planting her feet firmly on the ground.
"I am not going anywhere until you tell me why you are watching Mateo," she yelled.
The injured stranger lifted his head heavily from his man’s shoulder.
"If you stay here, the people who sent that shooter will kill you," he rasped.
Marisol looked at the dead body bleeding out on her freshly cleaned floor.
She knew calling the police would only make her the prime suspect in a mob execution.
She swallowed her panic and followed the men up the stairs and out the front door.
A massive white delivery truck with painted daisies on the side was idling on the curb.
They shoved her into the dark, windowless back of the truck alongside the injured boss.
The doors slammed shut, plunging them into near total darkness as the vehicle sped away.
The lead rescuer immediately began packing the stranger’s stab wound with gauze.
Marisol clutched the photograph to her chest, her mind racing with terrifying possibilities.
"My name is Julian," the injured man whispered from the floor of the truck.
"I don't care what your name is," Marisol snapped.
"I want to know how you know my brother."
Julian closed his eyes as the medic tightened a tourniquet around his bleeding thigh.
"I know him because the cleaning company didn't send you to that house by accident," Julian explained.
"They used your schedule to lure me there, knowing I would try to protect you."
Marisol stared at him in complete disbelief, having no idea what he was talking about.
Before she could demand more answers, her cell phone began to vibrate violently in her pocket.
She pulled it out and saw her landlord’s number flashing on the screen.
She answered the call with trembling fingers.
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"Marisol, you need to come home right now," the landlord shouted through the phone.
"Five men just kicked your apartment door down and dragged Mateo into a black van."
