[1] Midnight Lips | Ghost

𝐂𝐇. 02

VALENTINA
༻❁༺

The first thing I did when I got off the plane was take a huge breath of the lovely Mexican air. My lungs  filled up with a smell of wet grass and sunshine, like it had just stopped raining and the sun had just come out from hiding behind the gray clouds. Why, I couldn't understand. Mexico in October was warm, yet there were still hints of rain.

I wasn't going to complain, though. This was my favorite type of weather.

The more we drove into Las Almas, the more Mexico's weather warmed up. The clouds spread out and then over the sun. It was shining with a beautiful smile, right before she was set to go down the horizon and smile at a different city.

I didn't realize we had arrived until the truck came to an abrupt stop, thrusting my body forward. The driver, whose name I already knew was Vicente Riquelme, jumped out first.

I followed.

When we passed by the entrance, Riquelme turned to the security guard and nodded. "She's clear," he said in Spanish. The man grunted and let us in.

My temporary new home looked dirty but warm, with glimpses of green and beige across the walls, and a small scent of tires and dirt. The roughness of this place reminded me of those years back in the military service. I wasn't complaining, I think I liked it a little too much.

Alejandro Vargas was waiting inside the warehouse with a grin and open arms, and standing next to him was Rodolfo Parra, both part of Los Vaqueros.

I'd worked with Los Vaqueros twice in the past and became good friends with them, especially Ale and Rudy. We met a couple of times after the job, had a few drinks, had a great time, and promised to stay in contact.

I was the one who broke it.

Ale pulled me into his arms for a hug, lifting me off the ground a little. "Mierda, ¿cuánto tiempo ha pasado?" Shit, how long has it been? he asked, settling me back on my feet. "¿Como siete años?" Like seven years?

I nodded with a smile, pretending my stomach wasn't trying to swallow itself. "¿Cómo andas? ¿Qué tal la vida?" How are you doing? How's life?

With a shrug, he said, "Shit's been better."

"You stopped writing," Rodolfo said as he hugged me, and I tensed.

"Yeah, I know. Something went down–don't ask, I'm fine."

When he pulled back, he gave me a warm smile, almost as if he knew what went down and how bad it was. "It's good to finally hear you again."

I pushed away. Fuck, who even says that? I thought I learned how to control my feelings, but hell if I wasn't getting emotional already. "Yep, can't say the same," I teased, gaining some chuckles and a punch from Ale. "Just kidding. I did miss you guys."

As we walked inside, Los Vaqueros filled me up with their journey, which was full of explosions and bullets and possible deaths. It made me realize how every outcome of their missions ended up with the Mexican army troops intervening. That clearly meant that someone was letting them know about the missions–aka, the traitor among us.

I was sent here to find them. Luckily by the end of this week I was already out of here and the United States wasn't under a terrorist threat anymore.

I just hope I don't get too distracted.

*ೃ༄

I didn't have time to look around because as soon as we hit the main hallway, Alejandro shoved towards a doorway that led into a meeting room. "You can wait in there. I'll go find Price and the rest," he told me and strolled away.