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She hops into the black van and takes off. Aurelio waits for her to drive a suitable distance before starting the car. When we exit the warehouse, I breathe a sigh of relief that my faith in her wasn’t misplaced. She has nothing to do with the warehouse theft. By the same logic, she has nothing to do with the brothel either.
We keep on her for another two hours, driving without headlights. When she slows her vehicle outside a seedy motel, we stop and wait.
Zakiya exits, swinging a duffel bag over her shoulder.
Aurelio and I exchange glances before we get out and collect a few of the automatic rifles in the trunk, staying low and out of sight. We follow behind Zakiya, keeping quiet as we maneuver through the quiet parking lot. With so few cars, we risk exposure, but neither of us draws attention to ourselves.
There is a crowd on the other side of the motel. Loud music and conversation filter out of many of the windows and doors. Scantily clad women hanging on men of varying backgrounds is a sign the motel doubles as a blue-collar brothel. The noise will provide an excellent cover if things go to shit. And the kind of people here won’t remember seeing anything even if it happens in front of them. Whoever Zakiya is after must be using this to their advantage. Lucky for us, we can exploit the perks of this place for the same reason.
Zakiya pauses below the window of unit 119. She peeks through the window before resting on the floor again.
Aurelio and I exchange curious glances, wondering what she’s thinking and what she intends to do.
Zakiya takes a deep breath, then fishes out a synthetic rope from her duffel. She winds the rope around the door handle and stretches it taught before winding it around the neighboring room’s handle. She retrieves another length of cord and repeats the process with the door on the opposite side. Whoever is inside will have a difficult time opening the door.
She dons a mask and removes a gun from her bag, then points it at the window and reloads. Before she gets a second shot, a slight gap appears between the door and the frame. She aims at the crack and reloads again.
“What the hell is she doing why she only gets one shot off at a time?” I whisper to Aurelio.
He shrugs as in the dark as I am.
Zakiya takes a third shot through the window and discards the gun for a pair of black brass knuckles.
Whoever she shot at rams the door. From the dust falling around the frame, the person inside is mad as hell and will take the door down soon. A foot emerges from the rack. Zakiya flicks her wrist and a blade pops out of her knuckles before she stabs the foot.
A shout resounds all the way to me and Aurelio.
“Does she have a thing for blades?” Aurelio asks.
I touch the spot on my neck that no longer bears her mark. “You could say that.”
The person inside leaves the door and a few seconds of silence ensues before the window glass crashes over Zakiya’s crouched body. She scoots out of the way while the person on the other side clears the pane and exits the room.
Zakiya stands and raises her fists in a fighting stance worthy of a prized fighter. The man she’s facing has a good six inches on her and another fifty pounds of pure muscle.
“Fuck no.” I begin to rise from my crouch.
“Don’t.” Aurelio grabs my elbow. “If she needs help, you can step in. Until then, she’s handling herself.” Admiration fills Aurelio’s voice, but I’m not in agreement.
I shrug him off and rise to rush to join Zakiya. I get a few steps in before Aurelio tackles me to the ground and covers my mouth.
“Look!” he hisses and removes his hand.
Zakiya has her attacker in a triangle hold. Her thick thighs hold him steady in a headlock while he tries to thrash and free himself. His energy wanes quickly, and Zakiya removes the ropes to tie the man up. She then drags him into the room.
“Release me,” I demand and roll into a bend when he does. “You do some shit like that again, and we’re going to have some problems.”
“We still don’t know why she’s here. Since she was handling herself, it made little sense to interrupt her.”
I cast him a quick glare before returning my attention to the closed door of 119.
“I thought she was full of shit when she warned me off. Who knew you and your brother had so much in common? You both chose women who can kick your ass and not break a sweat. I mean, she was hot?—”
“Shut up, she’s leaving. Hide.” We duck and circle the nearest car to remain out of sight.
“She’s going toward the van. Thinks she’s leaving?”
If so, she’s left evidence behind. I can’t have my wife implicated in anything. I take my phone, ready to call my people.
