Alpha Loren

Chapter 197

The next morning, we drove back to Venezuela and I soon found myself back in the first house, Andrea

had taken me to.

I shuddered as I entered the bedroom, the memories seizing me. The sheets had been changed and

were fresh and neat, hiding evidence of my struggle but it was still alive and well in my mind.

"It won't be long before the effect of those pills have set in," Andrea said, "Then we will celebrate our

marriage."

His words sickened my stomach. Four days had passed since he last forced himself upon me and I'm

not sure I could survive it again.

"Anyway," he began taking his shirt off. "I'm going into Caracas to deal with the last of Richardo

Gonzalez's cockroaches that avoided my little birthday gift to him. I will be back late this evening."

By 'birthday gift' of course, Andrea meant the bomb that blew up Gonzalez's entire house, all his

friends and his body which had been strangled only two minutes before.

"Chico will be here," he added putting on a new shirt. "And I have told him to make sure you take that

pill this evening. Don't you dare cause any trouble, okay?"

I nodded.

"Adios, Señora," he said, kissing my cheek.

"Bye," I replied quietly as he left the room, "...hope you get shot..." I added when I was sure he was out

of earshot.

When I heard the front door close, I instantly ripped the ring off my finger and threw it onto the

nightstand unable to look at it for any longer. It felt good to be rid of it but I was still in this room which

his scent overwhelmed so strongly.

So I made my way down the hall in search of a fresh room to sit. One Andrea clearly hadn't spent much

time in.

My first thought was a library. He was clearly an intelligent man but he didn't strike me as much of a

reader. But surely a man as rich as him would have a book or two?

And he did. A whole room full. And in a room that was free of his scent. I ran my finger along the spines

of the books, scanning for something to read. Sure enough, they were all in Spanish but there was also

a Spanish-English dictionary and that combined with my pre-existing Latin and Italian knowledge, I was

able to sit down and slowly decipher a Latino thriller. Although continually having to pause and refer to

the dictionary which somewhat destroyed the suspense, I found myself getting completely engrossed in

the book. I also considered how much I hoped Andrea hadn't read it. The main character was a serial

killer with some fairly creative habits and the last thing Andrea needed was any inspiration.

At about 7 o clock in the evening, a knock on the door sounded.

"Yes?" I asked and the door opened to reveal Chico.

A warm, spicy smell also floated in through the air.

"I made chilli con carne. You should come eat and take your pill," he said.

I nodded and followed him down to the kitchen.

"So you're bodyguard, driver, cook and babysitter now?" I asked as he handed me a plate of food.

"I do anything the boss desires," he replied. "Tonight, that is making sure you swallow this," he added

handing me a plate with just one of the singular pink pills on it and a glass of water.

"Anything he desires?" I asked with a wink.

He almost smiled before turning back to the pot of chili.

"Eat with me," I said.

"No, gringa. I don't fraternise with the prisoners," he replied.

"Please. And I'm not his prisoner. I'm his wife," I said patting the table opposite him.

"Really?" he asked. "I don't see no ring."

I smiled awkwardly and put my hand under the table.

"Fine," he said. "I will eat with you but you better put that ring back on before he gets home."

He then sat down opposite me and didn't say another word as we ate.

Just as I had finished, a car pulled up outside, it's wheels screeching on the drive.

The car door then promptly slammed and multiple sets of fast footsteps came to the door before if flung

open and five or six men flooded in.

Andrea was at the front with his arm around a man who's head hung low and was being dragged, his

feet scraping on the floor by him and another man on the other side. The others followed quickly behind

as blood poured onto the floor.

"Shit," I cursed.

Andrea began barking orders to the men in fast, deep Spanish as they brought the casualty who I could

now see has a gaping wound on his side to the kitchen table. Blood gushed out and had instantly

covered the table the floor and I could see that Andrea's shirt was already entirely red.

"Move the plates, Blanca," he said to me and I only had a few seconds to get mine and Chico's plates

out of the way before the man was laid down on his back on the table.

He let out a deep groan as people rushed around him.

A bucket of water was brought over and a pile of rags which Andrea held on the wound in an attempt to

stop the bleeding.

I watched dumbstruck as his shirt was cut off him and his head lolled backwards.

"What happened?" I asked.

"He was shot," Andrea replied lifting up the rag to look.

"Don't do that," I said quickly. "You need to keep the pressure on it or he'll bleed out in minutes."

He looked up at me briefly before nodding and putting the rags back down.

"Push down hard to stop the bleeding," I said. "But try not to crush the ribs because they're right there,"

I added pointing to just above the wound. "And that could cause internal bleeding."

He nodded again and did exactly what I said.

"The woman is in charge," he told his men. "La Mujer esta a cargo, si?"

They all looked from Andrea to me hesitantly but nodded, knowing better than to question him.

"I need a clean cloth," I added looking at the man's paled face. "And somebody put some antiseptic or

salt in that water."

Andrea repeated in Spanish and his men began scrambling around and soon enough I had a new cloth

in my hand and the water was being sterilised.

I brought my ear to his chest and listened to his heart and then his breathing.

"Fuck," I cursed.

His head was flopped to the side and his eyes half closed as he let out a hoarse croak.

"What?!" Andrea said.

"He's stopped breathing," I replied tilted his head back.

"Then do something-" he began stepping forward.

"You just keep the pressure on the wound and let me deal with it, I know what to do," I shouted.

He immediately shut up and just held the rags on the man's side as I glanced down his throat. As far as

I could see, there was nothing so I brought my mouth to his and began to breathe for us both.

Andrea watched as I inflated his lungs three times before listening to his chest again and repeating.

"Is he conscious?" he asked.

I shook my head, "He's lost a lot of blood and has been starved of oxygen." Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

"Will he live?" he questioned.

"I don't know yet," I replied.

The fourth time I gave him mouth to mouth, his chest finally contracted and he took a huge breath of

air.

I allowed my self to let out a sigh of relief for a few seconds but my work wasn't done yet.

"How much blood did he lose?" I asked.

"The back of the car is drowning in it, the kitchen looks like a massacre scene," he replied. "He's lost

gallons."

"You've got to take him to a hospital," I said. "He's gonna need a transfusion and stitches."

"And sentence him to the rest of his life in prison?!" Andrea asked. "He stays here."

"And dies on your kitchen table?" I asked. "What's worse?!"

"Do everything you can to save him," he replied.

The next hour was terrible. I could practically feel this man's life fading in my hands. Only the faintest

heartbeat and weakest breaths reassured me he was still alive as I worked tirelessly to keep him that

way.

He still lay entirely still but the wound had atleast begun to clot and when I ordered Andrea to slowly

remove the pressure, we were met with only a slight oozing of blood.

"Chico, get the surgical thread and needle," Andrea ordered

Chico nodded and disappeared and opened a drawer in the kitchen and pulled a box out which he then

handed to me, inside was a real of blue sterile tape and a needle still in its clinical wrapper.

"Did you steal this from a hospital?" I joked.

Andrea looked at me blankly and then I remembered who he was and how obvious the answer was.

I then dipped the cloth in the water and cleaned the wound.

"The bullet is still in there?" I asked.

He nodded.

I turned to the medical kit beside me and dug around for a pair of tweezers.

"There might be two," Andrea added as I brought the tweezers to the wound.

"If he wakes up now, somebody knock him out, okay?" I said looking up to the men. "I need him

completely still."

They all nodded and I began to search through the blood and tissue for the bullet.

It wasn't long before I felt something that definitely wasn't human body and pulled it out revealing a

huge metal bullet. Right next to it, was another.

"Will you thread the needle, please Chico," I said. "But disinfect your hands with the gel first."

He obeyed as I retrieved the final bullet before handing it to me.

I took a deep breath and pulled the bright lamp one of the men had set up on the table closer to the

wound.

"Have you done this be-" Andrea began.

"Ssh," I snapped.

He stopped and stayed quiet the whole time that I sewed the flesh of the man back together. I did a

neat job and not a drop of blood escaped once I was done.

I then wiped the entire area with the antiseptic and soaked up the blood from around him.

"That's all I can do," I said to Andrea. "Now we just wait."

He nodded and stepped away into the kitchen running a hand through his hair.

He then flicked his wrist to his men. "Go to your stations, I will keep you updated."

A few minutes later, it was just Andrea and I in the kitchen...well and the half-dead man.

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Jaime," he replied.

I looked at his face as he lay there unconscious. He was young. Not a kid but his stubbly beard wasn't

quite complete enough to belong to a man.

"Will you care if he dies?" I asked.

"What sort of question is that?" he questioned.

"You didn't seem to have a problem killing your own men before," I said thinking back to when he shot

four of his men in the warehouse in Mexico after I gave their names to Leo.

"Did I shoot those bullets, Blanca?" he asked pointing to the two still in on the table that had been in

Jaime. "No. So I don't want him to die. If he does, that's life and I won't dwell on it."

I nodded and went to wash the blood off my hands in the sink.

He then poured a glass of tequila and looked back to me, "Where's your ring?"

I looked down to my hand, realising that due to Andrea's abrupt and chaotic arrival, I had never put it

back on as Chico had advised.

"Oh-" I began. "I didn't want to get blood on it."

He nodded and took a swig of the tequila.

"Get some sleep, Blanca," he said. "I'll watch him and wake you if anything changes."

I nodded, "We'll take it in turns," I said sitting down on a nearby sofa.

"And good job," he added. "I was certain he'd be dead within the hour."

I smiled briefly before laying my head down on the sofa and falling dead asleep. I woke at 3 am and

took over watch from Andrea but there was no movement until 5 am when Jaime slowly began to stir.

At first, there was just a low groan and then the twitch of his hand. Soon enough he opened his eyes

and looked around the room before a whole wave of confusion and panic began to set in.

I quickly approached him and put my hands on his shoulders to try and stop him sitting up and

disrupting the stitches, "Stay still."

This only made him more restless and he pushed against.

I didn't speak a word of Spanish, how was I supposed to reassure him?

"Andrea!" I shouted. He was asleep on the sofa but quickly woke up.

"Andrea?" Jaime asked. "Dónde estoy!?"

"Ughh...Casa...casa de Martinez," I stuttered.

He just looked at me even more confused. Fortunately, he was weak from his injuries and with every

movement he winced in agony so my attempts to keep him down lasted long enough for Andrea to take

over.

He put a single hand on Jaime's shoulder and looked into his eyes, causing him to instantly calm and

stay still.

"Jaime, Jaime, Jaime," he said putting a hand on his shoulder before speaking to him in Spanish.

I watched as Andrea explained everything, pointing to the stitches, the removed bullets and then me.

"Gracias, Señora," he said to me in a weak whisper. "Thank you," he added in his best English.

I nodded and smiled before I helped Andrea move him upstairs to a spare bed where he spent what

was left of the night.

"Your skills impressed me, Blanca," Andrea said as we lay in our bed, the light of dawn already filling

the room. "I've had men with injuries nowhere near as bad as that die on me before."

"Well, I had plenty of practice in my mate's army," I replied. "First patient I've treated on a kitchen table

though."

"Hmm," he said. "He's your responsibility until he is well enough to go home."

I nodded, "Okay."

I suppose it gives me something to do.