Emilio

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He was lighting a cigarette when the unconscious girl landed on the seat next to him with a thud .

Advertis.e.m.e.nt 'Sorry, boss,' Carlos called as her head flopped onto Emilio's shoulder .

Emilio glared at Carlos and shoved Marco's older daughter off him . Her forehead hit the window opposite his with a loud thunk before she settled in the corner between the window and back seat .

He puffed on his cigar as he surveyed her . She was pretty enough . Long, coffee-coloured hair fell across her face, partially s.h.i.+elding it from his view . He already knew what colour her closed eyes were . The twin irises were the exact hue of cerulean blue as the ocean beside his childhood house in Italy . It was the single feature that had stood out to him when he first met her as a small girl, back when Marco was a lot more capable and a lot less drunk .

Her hands were bound in front of her with rope, and the calm void of unconsciousness softened her features, making her look younger than he knew she was .

Nineteen . And she wasn't going to see her twentieth birthday .

He reached over impulsively, moving the hair off her face with the back of his hand . He narrowed his eyes, taking her in . Full lips . That bronze skin the Colombian girls wore so well . She wasn't his type, but he had to admit to himself that she was pretty .

He made his left hand into the shape of a gun and pressed it against her temple . Taking a drag of his cigarette, he blew a cloud of smoke in her face as he simulated blowing her brains out with a tip of his wrist .

It was almost a shame he was going to ruin that pretty face with a bullet . @@