Cosas Pendientes

Cosa Nuestra

Rule one: Charm all people you've trained for...

The Parisian cafe, Rue, was a haven of warmth against the biting winter chill. Snow dusted the cobblestones outside, mirroring the frost on the windows. Inside, the air was thick with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the murmur of hushed conversations.

At a small table tucked away in a corner, sat confines of her white earmuffs, her black hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing a face pale and delicate as porcelain. Her eyes, the color of the coffee she stirred, held a knowing glint. A red lip, punctuated by a small beauty mark above it, curved into a subtle smile. Regardless of her serious resting face, her strong cheekbones and arched eyebrows gave her an air of elegance. Long eyelashes framed her eyes, and her nose, perfectly proportioned, added to her overall beauty. Despite the winter chill, her figure in her red peacoat retained the curves Miguel remembered so fondly, and he couldn't help but steal a glance at the way her hips settled into the chair.

"I'm thankful you didn't send someone to kill me," Alma said to Miguel, her voice low.

Miguel, clad in a sleek black trench coat that accentuated his broad shoulders and the powerful muscles rippling beneath, removed his hat, revealing a buzz cut that framed his strong jawline and tanned skin. His black eyes, sharp and intense, held a mischievous glint as he smirked. His high cheekbones and slightly aquiline nose gave him a distinguished profile, while his full lips often curved into a teasing smile that hinted at his playful nature. His tanned skin had a warm, golden undertone that complemented his dark, expressive eyes. The buzz cut highlighted the strong lines of his jaw and the subtle dimples that appeared when he smiled.

"Extrañé tus ojos color café (I missed your coffee colored eyes)," he said.

Alma took a sip of her cappuccino, her red french tipped nails touching the cup as she held Miguel's glaze. As she placed the white coffee cup back on the table, Miguel placed his large hand on mine as his grip was unwavering.

"We have a lot to talk about," Alma said as she held his hand.

Five Years Ago

Her eyes shift open as the sound of an envelope sliding under the door wakes her up. She jolts up in her peacoat and bolts. A small beam of light from the blinds reflects onto her eyes.

"Morning..", she says to herself as she lifts her hands to cover her eyes. She looks outside her hotel. Her steps slow on the wooden floor of the small hotel room. Winter time in Brussels would be a dream if she wasn't undercover. The bed is plain white and it's freezing. Alma forgot to close the window knob and closes the window.

"Oh right, the envelope.." Alma walks to the door and picks up the letter.

"Your target," the letter says in red letters on the white back of the letter. A photo of Miguel falls on the ground.

I've seen this man before," Alma said to herself.

"Time to go to the Christmas market."

She had black knee high boots with a white peacoat and pink beanie as she made her way through the crowd. It was night time as the stone floors light up from the lights lit on every Christmas stand. The air smelt of food and beer. A wooden floor was placed over the cobblestone floors and a red carpet covered the ground as Alma walked through the crowd.

The crisp December air crackled with the festive energy of the Brussels Christmas Market. A sea of faces, both local and tourists, buzzed with excitement, their breath misting in the cold. Amidst the noise, ALma moved with a quiet grace, yet her height made her stand out in the crowd.

The market was a symphony of sights and sounds. Wooden stand overflowing with C'est I'pied (socks), Le Var (Wines), and Chez Malou (hot dogs and hamburgers) lined the cobblestone streets. The aroma of Belgian fries, sausages, and wine, a blend of sweet and savory. The harmony of languages- French, Dutch, English, and a dozen more-mingled with the cheerful carols drifting from hidden speakers.

Alma's cheeks flushed pink from the cold, as she navigated the bustling crowds with a practiced ease. She paused at the Chez Malou stand as her stomach churned. Her eyes lingering on the sign in the stand,

BOUDIN NOR OU BIRDC 6,00€

HOT DOG 5,00€

HOT DOG CHOUCROUTE 5,50€

HOT DOG 2 SAUCISSES 6,00€

HAMBURGER 6,00€

CHEESEBURGER 6,50 €

Alma looks around at the workers patiently waiting for some to serve her so she can start her order.

"Bonjour," the cashier said.

"Bonjour, can I have a hot dog?," Alma said kindly.

The cashier was a young brunette woman with her hair in a bun and a blue apron. She nodded her head and started assembling my order. She quickly spoke French as she had a short conversation with her other female coworkers. Unfortunately, Alma's limit was two languages: Spanish and English. Her mind must have drifted because she just heard the woman say,

"Sauce?".

"Ketchup," Alma said with a friendly smile.

She added the ketchup to the hot dog and handed it to Alma and she stood in front of the stand.

"5,00 euros," the woman said as Alma handed her the money.

"Merci," Alma replied and she walked to a small table to eat her food. It was gone as soon as she got to the table. That was the best hot dog she ever had as the bread was hard and the sausage was delicious. She wiped her hands with tissue and spoke to comms.

"I can't locate him," Alma said to her commanding officer.

"Find him NOW, he has the usb we need," the commander said in a deep voice over Alma's earpiece.

Alma approached the Beer stand as her hands trembled slightly. She fumbled the euros, her voice cracking as she ordered the beer. She pretended to drink.

"I KNEW it!," he said to Alma as panic clawed at Miguel.

He grabbed Alma's arm, pulling her roughly into the surging crowd as she dropped her cup of beer. Then, he quietly walked her to a back of a stand with a gun in hand as he took her earpiece and broke it by stepping on it.

"They want you dead, Miguel," Alma said as she looked at his silencer.

"They send you out of all people!," Miguel said trying to keep his voice low while the music covers their conversation.

"I don't have the usb, Alma, they lied to you as an excuse to kill me so you don't have any distractions," he said with truth in his eyes.

"It's too late for that," as she placed a hand on her stomach.

"How many months?," Miguel asked as his eyes watered.

"Five months but my bump is small," Alma smiled as she looked at his eyes.

"Do THEY know?" Miguel carefully looked around and asked.

"I doubt it, we need to go!, Alma said as she took Miguel's hand and they made their way through the crowd. Miguel stayed behind her. They looked around and nothing four men at different stands stare at them at the same time.

"Miguel? What should we do-" Alma was asking as a searing pain erupted in her abdomen as a knife twisted in stomach. She gasped, clutching her stomach as she began to pass out.

She woke up the next morning in a hospital bed as she placed a hand on her stomach and started crying. There was no bump.

"Miguel is missing," the commander said to Alma.