TWENTY-SEVEN

Three years earlier

All Sierra Rico could see stretched out before him now was a path of endless darkness, lined on either side by shelters of scrap. Where was he even heading now? He didn’t have an answer to that question; the night road seemed to go on forever. All he knew was that he was somewhere in the San Lorenzo slums, and that he had to get himself as far away from the battle as possible.

The echoes of gunshots were like that of distant thunder as Sierra forced his ravaged body further and further away from the battle that was still raging on in the clustered streets behind him. With every step his strides were becoming slower, his vision getting blurrier. He knew there wasn’t much time left for him now as he clutched tightly at the bullet wound in his right upper-back. The wound was already severely restricting his movement, but without proper medical attention there would soon be nothing in his body left moving at all.

Soon Sierra’s legs could take no more, buckling beneath him. He fell to one knee, panting, his whole world starting to spin. He could feel the nausea brewing in the pit of his belly and then, before he even realised it, he was face down on the street kissing the dirt. Somewhere, far off behind him but closing, Sierra could hear his pursuers coming for him, their shouts echoing in the night. Two Guerreros out to finish their job; to end Sierra’s life.

As he lay there, Sierra’s thoughts turned blissfully vacant. He could feel himself letting go, giving up, as though he was just waiting for Death’s train to pull into the station and take him away on his final journey.

But then something unexpected happened. The sound of a nearby door opening caught Sierra’s attention, snapping him back into focus. He rolled over onto his side to see who it was, all but certain he was about to catch sight of one of his Guerrero pursuers.

But instead of death, he saw her. The woman was standing there in an open doorway right across the street from him, her face illuminated by the dim glow of the candle in her hands.

His eyes widened as they caught hers and latched onto them like a magnet to metal. Those eyes were mesmerising, and they held on firmly to his. There was no judgement in them. There was not even a hint of fear or uncertainty as one might expect given the circumstances. Sierra felt his heartbeat begin to quicken. It was a feeling that that had never experienced before, and for a moment all his pain was gone entirely; she was the single most beautiful thing Sierra had ever seen.

Without even realising it, Sierra was suddenly clawing his way across the street towards her, like a starving dog following the scent of food. The woman’s eyes seemed to give him new-found strength, belief in himself. Suddenly Sierra didn’t want to die anymore, he wanted to live.

The woman didn’t even make an effort to try and run or close the door as he got closer. She simply let him come to her, even kneeling down to help pull him inside as he reached her.

The door closed behind Sierra, consuming his world in darkness. No sooner had it shut Sierra heard the sound of his pursuers running past outside, their feet pounding tirelessly down the lonely, rain-drenched street. And then they were gone and the danger had passed, leaving Sierra and the woman all alone in the dark. Now the only sound Sierra could hear was the woman’s steady breathing as she knelt down over him.

“Don’t worry, they’ve gone; they won’t find you here,” she whispered to him. Her voice was calm in a way Sierra found contagious. “You’re hurt badly, try not to move.”

Sierra tried to say something, to thank her, but he was too weak.

“Sssh, just rest now” the woman said. “You’re safe. Relax.”

Then, blissfully, Sierra felt himself slipping unconscious. For a moment he could have sworn he saw a shadow move somewhere further back in the darkness behind the woman, but in his weary state he could easily have just been imagining it. In any case, he was out completely before he could register a second thought.

***

Sierra awoke to daylight, the sun streaming in from an open window nearby. He was in some kind of scrap-metal shack, lying on a soft straw mattress which was covered partially by a thin layer of white bedsheets. Looking down at himself, Sierra realised that all his wounds were now bandaged up.

Suddenly Sierra heard a soft musical tune start to play. It was not instrumental, it was a woman humming, and from the sounds of it she was getting closer. He rolled over onto his side, catching sight of her just as she approached his bed. It was her; the woman who had saved him. Straight away memories of the previous night came roaring back.

“You have a very high fever this morning,” the woman said. “That’s your body’s way of telling you to get some rest.” She knelt down beside Sierra and gently pressed a damp piece of washcloth to his forehead.

Sierra felt his lungs emptying the longer his eyes lingered on her. He had to close his hands into fists just to stop them from trembling. Even now, up close and in the daylight the woman was just as amazingly gorgeous as she had seemed in the chaos of the previous night. Her eyes were warm and friendly, and she had a face that radiated natural energy, always seemingly happy. Perhaps that was what drew Sierra to her so. In the forlorn hell of San Lorenzo, he had never seen anyone quite like her.

“I don’t understand,” his voice was weak and the words caught on the end of his tongue as he tried to speak. “Why did you help me?”

The woman smiled, removing the damp cloth from Sierra’s forehead. “You were hurt. Those men would have killed you otherwise.”

“You would risk your life to save a stranger?”

The woman turned away for a moment, dampening Sierra’s cloth in a small pot of water. “I couldn’t just let you die, could I?”

“Why not?”

The woman put the damp cloth back to Sierra’s head, humming again. “I’m just not that sort of person.”

That sort of person? Sierra wasn’t quite sure he understood. He wanted desperately to find some way to express his gratitude to the woman, but he didn’t even know where to begin.

“Thank you,” Sierra said at last. “I don’t know what else to say.”

She smiled again. “You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to.”

“What’s your name?” Sierra asked her, gradually working up a bit more confidence.

“Lana.”

Sierra smiled, or tried to anyway, but his face muscles were frozen. “Thank you for saving my life, Lana.”

“You’re welcome.” Lana reached out and felt around Sierra’s wound, checking to make sure the bleeding had not seeped through any of his bandages. For the first time that Sierra could remember he felt the gentle hand of a woman on his bare chest, and suddenly his skin felt like it was alive with currents of electricity. His flesh tingled under her touch; every nerve and every sense was on alert and at her mercy.

Lana looked up into his face, finding his eyes. It was as though she could sense exactly what he was feeling. “So,” she said with a flirting smile, “does the handsome Guerrero have a name?”

Sierra’s eyes widened for a second, surprised to find that she knew he was a Guerrero. But then he quickly remembered he had been wearing his gun belt the previous night when she had found him. A Guerrero’s identity was not exactly a secret.

“Sierra,” he said at last, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs with much some needed oxygen. “Sierra Rico.”

“Well, Sierra,” Lana said warmly, extending her hand to him, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you… too.” Sierra felt like an idiot, a baby fumbling his words, but he shook her hand anyway.

“Oh, you’re bleeding again,” Lana said, glancing down at the bandages around his chest

Sierra looked down. Sure enough, a small crimson stain had begun spreading across the white. He had been so caught up in Lana’s eyes that he hadn’t even noticed tearing it open.

“I’m going to need to take those bandages off for just a second,” Lana said, her hands reached tentatively for the bandages. “I need to take another look at the wound. Sorry, it’s not often I come across gunshot victims, and I’m not exactly a doctor. I had a little brother once, used to take care of him, but he never came home all shot up.”

Sierra just lay back in silence and watched her hands go to work. She undid the first coil of bandages slowly, carefully. She was so close to him that he could hear her breathing, and the natural scent of her hair filled his nostrils. Sierra just wanted to reach out and hold her, but somehow his instincts told him to restrain himself. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her.

Lana glanced up from the bandages and gave Sierra a slight smile as she uncoiled the last of his bandages.

Sierra’s pulse was racing. His muscles tensed involuntarily as he felt her open up the fabric, revealing the rippling muscles of his chest and abdominals. He felt hot all over. The blood rushed to his thumping heart, and down between his legs. He felt himself becoming hard and he shifted his legs to hide it.

Lana’s eyes glanced over his chest once, lingering there for just a second, before coming to a rest on his leaking bullet wound. Her breathing had seemed to quicken too. It was as though she could feel Sierra’s sexual emanations trying to intoxicate her senses. Her fingers felt gently around the wound, then moved along, brushing ticklishly over his muscles. Then she went back to work and plugged the bullet wound with her tweezers and a thin ball of fabric.

Sierra could not feel pain in the slightest. His body had completely forgotten about it, craving more of her touch.

After Lana finished fixing up his wound she told Sierra to try and get some more rest. Although he didn’t want to, his body definitely needed it, so he did as he was asked and let himself drift off to sleep.

***

It was several hours later when Sierra finally awoke from his slumber to find that Lana was gone. Evidently she had left while Sierra was sleeping.

After waiting for another half-hour or so, Sierra figured it would probably be for the best to leave before he overstayed his welcome. Especially before Chilavert noticed he was missing and sent some people out looking for him. The last thing he wanted now was to get Lana mixed up with the cartel; there was no telling what Hector Chilavert and his beasts might do to such a sweet girl like her.

After Sierra had regained enough of his strength to get up and walk again, he quietly collected his clothes and gun belt and then let himself out. He needed to get back to the compound quickly to report in to Chilavert.

As he left, Sierra wondered if he would get the chance to see Lana again. His heart ached at the possibility that he might not.

***

Outside the front gates of Hector Chilavert’s compound, Sierra’s friend Vincent was waiting for him as he returned.

“Vincent,” Sierra said with a relieved smile. “Nice to see you’re still in one piece.”

“Close call. Luckily it was dark, so the bastardos couldn’t see me,” Vincent joked, stroking his dark skinned face. “What the hell happened to you anyway? Esteban and I have been out looking for you all morning. We were just praying those Bolivian bastardos didn’t grab you.”

Sierra shook his head. “I took a hit and had to take cover under some scrap, out in the slums. I must have passed out after that,” he shrugged then quickly switched topics before Vincent had the chance to poke any holes in his story. “Did you get all the guys who attacked us?”

“Nah, those two Guerreros who ambushed you must have got away. But it was definitely the Mountain Boys who were behind it; I recognised several of their shooters. Those motherfuckers made shish kebabs out of Luis, Gordez and…” Vincent paused, distracted by the bandages around Sierra’s torso. “Hey, nice job with those bandages. You do all that by yourself while you were passing out?”

Sierra glanced down at his torso, at Lana’s handiwork. “Umm…”

“Good job, Dr Rico,” Vincent winked. “Next time I’m hit and bleeding out all over the place, I’ll know who to come to for help.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sierra shrugged and smiled. “By the way, how’s Chilavert? Has he been asking for me?”

“Not so far. He’s going completely nuts in his gambling den at the moment, so you might want to steer clear of him for a while. You know how it is; out of sight, out of mind.”

“Is something wrong?”

“You know how he is. He wants to send some heads rolling after what happened last night. He’s embarrassed; the cartel getting attacked on its own turf like this. And what Chilavert wants, Chilavert usually gets.”

Sierra nodded. “I’d sure hate to be those Mountain Boys right about now.”

After saying his goodbyes to Vincent as the compound gates opened for him to enter, Sierra walked inside and passed the main villa, entering Chilavert’s gambling den.

It was there inside the gambling den, as Sierra was walking down the central hallway, that a door suddenly swung open in front of him and a familiar face emerged.

Lana. She noticed Sierra at the same time he noticed her, the corners of her lips moulding into a smile of surprise that matched his own as their eyes connected.

“Lana,” Sierra whispered her name without really thinking. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Her voice was awkward in a way that mirrored his own. “I’m sorry I had to leave you this morning. Actually, I thought you’d still be asleep when I got back home.”

“I would have liked to stay and wait for you, but I didn’t want anyone to start worrying about me.” He was about to go on say something else when suddenly another man stepped out into the hallway between them and took Lana aside by her arm.

It was Sammy Snidez. Slippery Sammy; the cartel’s arrogant new gunman whose only real skill was luck.

Sierra half turned away as Sammy grabbed her, more out of surprise than anything else. But he watched on closely through the corner of his eye, burning up with fury as the snake of a man pulled Lana in close and hissed something which was no doubt vulgar into her ear.

Lana recoiled from Sammy, pulling her arm free, and tried to run away. But Sammy grabbed her again, harder this time.

Sierra felt his blood reach boiling point, explosions of anger going off in his head.

“What’s the hurry, babe?” Sammy asked her. “Still playing hard to get?”

Finally, Lana broke away again and ran off down the hallway as Sammy howled insults after her.

No sooner had she disappeared from view, Sierra launched himself at Sammy, pushing the frail gunman against the wall and holding him there firmly in place.

“Back the fuck off, Sammy!” he snarled.

“Jesus, Sierra, what the hell is your problem?!” Sammy laughed.

“That girl,” Sierra said, “last night she pulled me in off the street and saved my arse while the rest of you cowards were busy running away! I owe her my life, so if you ever touch her like that again, I’ll kill you. And that’s not a threat, Sammy, that’s a fucking promise!”

“What the fuck, hombre? You got a thing for her or something?”

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear enough,” Sierra’s eyes narrowed. “If you ever want to find out what the difference is between a Guerrero like me and a scrawny little piece of shit like you, I fucking dare you to touch her again!”

“Okay, hombre, relax, it’s cool.” Sammy waited for Sierra to release him, then he straightened up his collar and walked away with a shake of the head. “Damn. Why bother getting so worked up over a piece of fucking meat?”

Just as Sierra was about continue on his way, he paused and noticed a man standing there down the very end of the corridor, watching him with unblinking eyes.

Mickey Toma.

“Everything okay, Sierra?” the Guerrero asked him. “What was all that about?”

“None of your fucking business, Mickey,” Sierra growled.

Toma shrugged. “Anyway, you’re just in time. Chilavert has been asking to see us both. I think it’s customary for pussies to go in first.”

“Then you better lead the way!”

***

Later that same afternoon Sierra made his way back into the San Lorenzo slums. He was careful to ensure nobody from the cartel was following him as he retraced his steps from the previous night. So many thoughts were rushing through his head by the time he reached the front door of Lana’s home.

Just as Vincent had warned him, Hector Chilavert had not been happy. Not one bit. The tyrant had been so blinded by rage that he had not even bothered asking Sierra where he had been all morning. The reasons for Chilavert’s anger were not difficult to guess. The previous night, a rival drug cartel from Bolivia, who called themselves the Mountain Boys, had sent a small army of gunmen to launch an attack on Chilavert’s compound in San Lorenzo. It had been an all-out warzone in the streets. Sierra had fought alongside his comrades in heated combat to protect Chilavert’s compound from being overran. Eventually they had staved off the initial attack and driven all of the Mountain Boys back across town, out into the slums. But it had been there, leading the counter-attack, that Sierra and several others had walked straight into an ambush led by a pair of Guerreros. The other cartel gunmen with Sierra had all been killed, and he himself had taken a bullet. He had gone stumbling off in search of a refuge, before eventually running into Lana.

Hector Chilavert had exploded in a fit of rage during his meeting with Sierra and Toma, sprouting rage-fuelled promises of swift and bloody retribution. The tyrant had then gone on to declare that he would be sending both of them into Boliva after the Mountain Boys. The two of them were to be given the responsibility of bringing him back the heads of all those behind the attack.

But Sierra put all that aside for now, his thoughts returning to the more urgent task at hand, which was to see Lana again. He was just about to knock on Lana’s door when suddenly he froze, halted by his nerves and his hand paused mid-action. Feelings of self-doubt began to plague him.

He thought for a second about just turning around and walking away, knowing full well that it would have been much easier for him to do than stay. But no, he refused to let his nerves get the better of him. What was he even doing here? What did he hope to achieve? Sierra didn’t have the answers. All he knew was that he had to see Lana again, even if it was only this once. For now, nothing else mattered.

After taking a moment to calm down and work up some confidence again, Sierra finally forced himself to knock on the door.

“Just a second,” came the voice from within. Sierra heard the sound of footsteps approaching and then the doorway opened.

Lana’s eyes widened slightly as she saw it was Sierra who was standing there. “Oh, Sierra…”

“I’m sorry if this is a bad time,” Sierra said as calmly as he could manage, which was no easy task given how hard his heart was hammering inside his chest. “I can always come back later.”

“No, no, of course not,” Lana said. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

Sierra nodded, still feeling a little self-conscious standing there in front of her door. “Are you alright? I saw what happened earlier, with Sammy…”

“It’s okay, really, I’m fine,” Lana looked down shyly, clearly embarrassed Sierra had witnessed the whole ordeal. “Dealing with men like Sammy is just one of the many perks that come with my job.”

“I had no idea you worked for Chilavert. I’m just surprised you didn’t mention anything while you were treating me. I haven’t seen you around the compound before.”

Lana looked back up at him. “I only started a few weeks ago. Jobs in this city aren’t exactly easy to come by. Especially for a woman…”

“I can only imagine,” Sierra said. “I’m sure you have your reasons. But that’s not why I’m here. I just… well, I wanted to see you again. To thank you again, actually.” He put on a smile that felt about as natural as a slice of processed cheese.

Lana raised an eyebrow and rested her arm against the door frame, apparently somewhat amused by his discomfort. Her eyes shifted down from Sierra’s, to the bandages around his bullet wound. “And how are your bandages holding up? Did I do it properly?”

Sierra looked down his chest. He had almost forgotten about his injuries in the moment. “I think so. I’m no expert, but at least the bleeding has stopped.” He felt himself relax a little, more comfortable now that they had a mutual topic to discuss. “Maybe you should consider becoming a doctor.”

Lana laughed at that. “Now you’re just teasing.” Sierra watched her closely as she opened up her door the rest of the way. “So, now that you have said what you came here to say, did you want to come in and stay for a while?” she asked him.

Her question caught Sierra off guard. Somehow he had not expected Lana to be quite so open. “Oh… uh, no, I should probably get going. I’m due back at the compound any time now. I just wanted to drop by.”

“Oh,” Lana smiled. “Well, when you’re free again you should come for another visit. I could always have another look at that wound for you, seeing as how you think I’m such a good doctor.”

Sierra forced another smile. “Sure, that would be nice. I’d like that.” He imagined what he must have looked like in that very moment, and the image in his mind was far from flattering.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later, Sierra,” Lana winked to him and walked back inside. But as she did, she deliberately left the door open for him to follow.

Sierra was caught in two minds. Stay or go? He wanted to walk inside more than anything, but he was afraid he didn’t know what he was really doing. He had never done anything like this before. He had never felt this way before. It was all such unfamiliar territory. He would have felt more at ease unarmed and under heavy enemy fire.

After contemplating his options for a long while, Sierra fought off his lingering inhibitions and followed Lana inside.

***

Their naked bodies lay entwined on Lana’s bed. It was Sierra who awoke first. His heartrate started pounding out of control, startled to find that he had actually fallen asleep. But then he looked down at Lana sleeping there right beside him and his breathing slowed. Somehow her presence calmed him.

He studied her body, which was so petite and slender compared to his own. Her flesh was surprisingly pale in areas usually covered by clothing, especially when compared to her deeply tanned face, arms and lower legs.

His eyes returned to her face and he saw that she was awake now too, watching him closely with those smiling eyes of hers. Without saying anything, she moved forward and kissed him gently on the lips.

...

Sierra awoke and looked around, finding himself lying on a mattress in the centre of a polished wood floor, surrounded on all four sides by Japanese-style paper walls. The entire room was aglow with morning sunlight. It took a minute or two for Sierra to work out exactly where he was as his sleep-deprived brain lazily recalled the events of the previous night.

But then it came back to him.

After the massacre at the Marino Club, Sierra and his friends had left together with Kenji in his limousine. They had driven north across town for around twenty minutes before arriving at a tall, lavish and modern apartment building in one of the city’s newer residential districts.

Kenji’s apartment, or condo as he referred to it, took up the entire 31st floor of the building. It was a top-floor penthouse. The interior was like a small oriental mansion. The twenty or so rooms were divided by paper walls and doors, and the place housed all the luxuries of a small resort, complete with its own massive hot tub, spa area and sauna.

The view out over Panama City from the condo was quite spectacular, particularly now in the early morning light. Looking out from the massive east-facing scenic windows, Sierra could see out past the city skyline, all the way over to the sparkling waters of the beachfront beyond.

After blinking away the sleep from his eyes, Sierra got up and walked down the hallway to look for his friends. He found them all still fast asleep and sprawled out comfortably on their beds, which were no doubt the most comfortable and cloud-like they had ever slept on before.

Vincent was curled up in a little ball, like a puppy dog trying to keep warm.

Esteban was face-down, his arm crushed awkwardly beneath his pillow in a way that could only be comfortable for a man like Esteban.

As for Marco, his loud snoring was the only thing breaking the peaceful quiet of the morning. The big man had a problem with his nostrils. His nose had been broken multiple times in bar room brawls he himself had started, which was hardly a surprise, given what a moody and annoying prick Marco could be on the drink; he was bad enough sober.

Sierra lay back down on his mattress and closed his eyes. His thoughts returned then to Lana, and to that first magical time they had stayed together, just like he had remembered it in his dream. Back then, life had seemed so much more simple, lost as he was in a whirlwind of new love. Sierra was certain that they would always be together. But alas, Fate, it seemed, had had other plans for them and the sins of his past had ripped apart any hopes and dreams for the future he ever had.

Now Sierra was little more than a kite in the breeze, left flowing through life wherever the winds decided to take him. He had put his faith in Vincent to lead him into a new life, but in all he did not really care where he ended up. Even now, after two long years on the road to freedom with Vincent, all Sierra really wanted was a chance to be with Lana one more time. To hold onto her one last time and tell her how much she really meant to him. She had been his whole world. And without her, he had nothing and he was nothing.