Chapter 1: Dakota's POV

Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!

The sound of a machine gun echoes through the compound, and it's not even been up to ten minutes since I got here.

Marco, the chubby man sitting across the table from me smirks, revealing a gold tooth. "You didn't even budge. Impressive."

I force a smile. "It's going to take more than a machine gun going off to surprise me."

He nods and then taps my resume again. "You're aware that this isn't just about running our accounts?"

"I applied for the position of financial manager. What else does a finical manager do?"

"Well, for one, you count the money down to every last cent."

"I know that."

"And if as little as a dollar is missing, you will lose your pretty head if your reasons aren't strong enough to save you. El Jefe doesn't joke with his money."

El Jefe...the boss.

"I will be managing hundreds of millions of dollars. I think no one would care if a dollar is missing."

He chuckles swaying his chair from side to side. "Every single dollar down to a cent is worth more than your life here, Miss Allison–"

"It's Alister–"

"And if you can't account for all the money in your care, then you're as good as dead." He pauses. "Allison."

He cocks his head, daring me to correct his deliberate error but I don't even crack. Intimidation never works on me, because what's the worst you can do? Kill me? Please. Besides, it's not my actual name anyway, so I couldn't care less if he got it right or not.

"My commitment to keeping the funds depends on–"

Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!

"¡Tu madre es una puta, cerdo asqueroso! ¿Te crees que puedes engañarme? ¿Quién te crees que eres? ¡Hijo de puta!"

*(Your mother is a fucking whore, you dirty pig! You think you can play me? The fuck do you think you are? Mother fucker!)

Rat-tat-tat!

Marco and I both turn to the window just in time to see a body fall limp to the ground. Another man walks up to the corpse and kicks the head.

"Puta!" He curses again.

If I was really just Dakota Alister, an A+ accountant from London, maybe I would be stunned and possibly terrified.

But Lilith Hayes?

I have more blood on my hands than the average FBI field agent in my branch. And that's possibly how I'm going to look at the end of my stay here.

Me cursing at a dead Javier and kicking his corpse.

"You were saying?" Marco's voice pulls my attention back to the room.

"Yes, I was saying..."

Wait... what was I saying again?

Marco opens his mouth and nods his head, likes it's going to help me remember what I was saying before the blunt interruption.

I laugh feigning nervousness and rub my hands together. "Sorry, I kinda...must have been distracted by that."

"That's a regular occurrence you have to get used to. And it just might be you too, someday." He shrugs. "But back to the interview, we were talking about how you would handle fraud cases?"

I clear my throat, ready to reply but the door burst open behind me before I can get a word out.

Marco immediately stands to his feet, bowing his head in respect. "Jefe, our potential financial manager."

Javier Escobar walks into the office like he's floating on air, bringing with him the scent of tobacco and Italian cologne.

My heart stutters. Not once, not twice, but three times.

He's nothing like he used to be when we were younger. That chubby nerd with thick framed glasses, always smelled of paint and vanilla, and always had a smile in his eyes. He's gone.

Standing in front of me is an approximately 6'4, well chiseled devil, glasses gone and replaced with contact lenses that colours his eyes grey.

Those eyes that were so innocent now look dead and they're trained right on me.

He cocks his head as he accesses me and for a second, I think he might recognise me. I didn't change much over the years, but for this undercover role, I had to dye my strawberry hair black and hide my green eyes behind grey contacts.

But then his eyes move away from me without a single stroke of emotion and then they land on Marco.

He didn't recognise me.

I should feel relieved. If he had recognised me, my mission would literally be over, and maybe he'd kill me off too like he did with my family.

But I don't. A part of me wanted him to remember. To remember Lilith and the promise he made before he left nine years ago. To remember the love.

I scoff. Love? I take him in as he walks by me to the head of the table. This man doesn't do love. He does drugs, sex trafficking and death.

"Dakota Alister?"

His voice is so smooth and deep that it touches me smack dab in my heart and the spot between my legs.

What the fuck is this? Why am I reacting to him like this??

Marco clears his throat and I look up to find Javier's eyes on me. I force a smile and nod. "Yes."

"Yes, boss." Marco corrects and Javier gives him a glance that can send a man to hell.

His eyes scan my file for brief second before he picks up a pen lying on the table and takes out a document from one of the drawers.

"Didn't Esteban tell you that we were expecting her?" He asks Marco, who looks like he would drop dead any second.

"Jefe–"

"The boys at the warehouse got ambushed by the fucking Vietnamese gang an hour, thirty seven minutes ago, and you're here playing interview? Did you not hear the call for backup? All our men at the warehouse were killed, did you know that?"

When Marco doesn't answer, he looks up at him with those calm dead eyes and cocks a brow.

"Well?"

"I-I'm sorry, Jefe. But I was told that I was responsible for her when she arrived. I assumed it meant–"

"That what? She needed a babysitter?"

"No, I-"

I don't even see him pull out the gun, but I hear the sharp crack and I see Marco convulse slightly before he falls limp to the ground.

Then, like nothing happened, Javier signs my acceptance papers and looks up at me again, handing them over with a dead stare.

"Welcome to Los Muertos, Miss Alister. Try not to die before your first payday."