Sunday, January 24, 2010

Excerpt -- Havana: Killing Castro


In three days, Marcela had been able to locate the suspected killers. And like the experienced predator that she was, she had selected her first target, the weakest link: the stocky man named Mauricio. He came to the Versailles

for coffee every afternoon at around three p.m.

Today she would make contact.

Mauricio was there when she sashayed around the corner. She skipped past the cars cramming the Versailles’s parking lot and took a place standing next to him at the counter of the crowded coffee bar. The dark-haired waitress looked at her and posed a silent question with her arched eyebrows. She held a steaming pot in each hand, one filled with coffee and the other with boiled milk.

“Un cafesito,” Marcela said. “And a guava pastry.”

“Con leche?”


“Coming right up.”

Marcela felt Mauricio giving her the eye, but she pretended not to notice. She had stuffed herself into tight yellow latex pants and a white sleeveless cotton blouse with a plunging neckline that left little to the imagination. She wore minimalist dental-floss panties, so her buttocks showed nice and round, and no brassiere. To bring out the color of her eyes, she had combed her hair back and tied it with a bright yellow band. Marcela knew she looked good.

She was dressed to kill.

The waitress put coffee and pastry on the counter, and Marcela, smiling, turned to Mauricio and caught him staring at her. “Pass the sugar, please?”

“Sure.” Blushing, he placed the glass sugar container in front of her.

“Never seen you around here before.”

Marcela poured sugar into the small cup and stirred it with a teaspoon before answering. “Never seen you here either, so that makes two of us.”

“I come here every day.”

“Good for you.”

Marcela took a bite of her guava pastry and chewed. For effect, she breathed in deeply and kept her back straight. God, she looked good, and she knew it. She had a terrific and fit body, with large, pointed breasts, long legs and a muscular ass. Cuban men liked nice asses, and she had one of the best.

Mauricio was looking at it right now.

Marcela let him ogle a little longer, build up expectations, before talking to him again. “I was living in New York. I just moved down to Miami. Too cold for me there.”

“How do you like it here?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ve been here a week, and I haven’t been anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have a car, and I don’t know anybody here.”

“You know me now.” Marcela noticed how Mauricio puffed his chest when he said that and knew the fish had taken the bait and was on the hook. “And I have a car.”

Marcela cocked her head and inspected him up and down. “You married?”


“Let me check your hands.”

Marcela took Mauricio’s hands, one at a time, and checked the fingers for evidence of wedding rings. Oh, the human touch! She let her fingers linger a while before removing them. Mauricio had goose bumps.

“I guess not.”

“How about you?” Mauricio coughed.

Marcela put her arms on her hips. “Do I look married to you?”

Mauricio cleared his throat. “No boyfriend, either?”

“That’s the reason I left New York. I broke up with him. He used to get drunk and beat me.”

Mauricio scrunched up his face sympathetically. “Sorry to hear that.”

Marcela gave him her alarmed face, squinting eyes and all. “Say, you’re not one of these men who like to beat up women, are you?”

“No, no,” Mauricio mumbled. “Of course not.”

“Or one of these sexual predators from Miami I hear about all the time. My girlfriend Elisa warned me. She told me there’s a rapist on Calle Ocho who has killed dozens of women. Is that true?”

“It is, but the police caught him already.”

Marcela looked directly into Mauricio’s eyes while Mauricio tried hard not to look at her breasts. Men are so predictable.

“No, you don’t look like a sexual predator.”

“You have beautiful eyes.” Mauricio fidgeted. “Yellow. I’ve never seen eyes that color before. They’re odd.”

You haven’t seen anyone like me before. “Is that the best pickup line you have?”

“No,” Mauricio blurted out. “I mean, it’s no line.”

“You’re not trying to pick me up then? I thought you were going to offer to show me Miami?”

“No, I mean yes.”

Marcela placed a hand on Mauricio’s arm, resting on the counter. “I was just teasing. When?”


“When are you going to take me out and show me Miami? I’m so tired of seeing only the four walls of my room.”

Mauricio hit his cup with his elbow, sending a small wave of coffee splashing to the counter. “Whenever you want.”

Marcela was getting excited, imagining what was coming. Her nipples became erect. She leaned forward so Mauricio could glance inside her blouse and feast his eyes on her breasts. Time to yank the line and reel the fish in. She batted her eyelashes.

“You have anything planned for tonight?”

Havana: Killing Castro is a 2009 Readers Favorite Awards winner, and is now available as an eBook from Eternal Press, and also in print and most eBook formats from and selected booksellers.

No comments:

Post a Comment