My Worst Enemy

A/N: Hello! I just wanted to write this quick note to thank everyone who have already tuned in to read/rate/review my story. This is my first one here and I am really frantic to know what you guys think of it.

Ana Maria : Muchas gracias por escribir mi primera revision. I hope I did well, I don't write Spanish so well. But I wanted to reply to you in Spanish lol maybe next time you could write in English so that I could clearly understand your review, please. If, of course, you would be so kind as to review again.

Kathy : Your review was so kind and made me blush a little. I really, really appreciate you taking the time to review and tell me how much you like it so far. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. And I promise that I will update if not everyday due to my real life obligations, but very often. Do you mind me e-mailing you every time I update?

I hope you will like this chapter as well. Thank you again to all.

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Chapter 2.-

Joe's heart missed a beat recognizing the dark hair and the body form. His finger trembled on the trigger and his jaw ticked when the woman turned around and he recognized the one he was just thinking about a moment ago. How she could be here?

He turned the lenses around trying to get a nearer and more precise image than he already had. She was still standing in front of his target, his hands around her waist and hers on his chest, both laughing. They had the same skin pigmentation, the same hair color and the same smile and Joe immediately understood that he was her father. His heart skipped again at the idea but he breathed in and replaced his finger on the trigger. He moved the canon from the man's chest to his forehead. He just had to be careful not to hit her pretty little head full of hair.

But he quickly removed his finger again when the white-haired man leaned down to kiss her on the cheeks and he felt powerless as he saw her hovering over him as he got in the car. Cussing loudly, he tried to get a shot of the man before he completely disappeared inside the car when he noticed that she was still standing on the sidewalk, not making a move to get in the car as well. And she was looking straight at him, her face naked of any smiles. His eye followed her subtle movements and understood that she was signing. He glanced at her hands and frowned when he read what she was saying.

"Get out.. Now."

At the same moment, his ears registered a light noise coming from outside the door and he instinctively let himself fall down on his back, his feet pushing the chair against the door. The firing bullets went flying over his head, hitting the cement walls and making sparkles of dust cloud the room. He laid flat, holding the rifle against him. His fingers went looking for the other bullets scattered on the floor and he frantically put three in the chamber as the chair was pushed away and the door knocked down. He shot the first guy he saw, the bullet in his left eye, killing him instantly.

He rolled around just before he heard bullets hitting the floor where he was, sending dust on his face. As soon as he got on his back again he fired, hitting the other man in the shoulder. He heard him scream and watched him fall on his knees, his injured hand letting go of his gun while the other was still trying to get a shot at him. Still on his back, Joe threw his right foot up, kicking the gun out of the other man's hand and felt satisfied when the guy yelped under the pain he inflected to his wrist. Flipping up to get on his feet, Joe pushed the guns away with his feet and pulled the injured guy up by his shirt, ordering him to stop yelling.

"Who are you? Who are working for?" he uttered between his teeth.

The bleeding man answered loudly in a foreign language but Joe understood by the tone that it was a call out for help as he heard hurried feet in the corridor. He was trapped. Immediately letting the guy fall, he picked up the black Taurus pistols he had pushed away and jumped out the widow, making a somersault not to land on his feet and break his legs. He fired up as soon as he got on his knees, his back turned to the church.

The loud noise of the bullets being fired filled his ears making it impossible to hear the scared screams behind him. The guys up in the room quickly hid behind the walls on the side of the window and he swiftly got up to run and leaned against a car parked on the street. His back against it, he ran his eyes on the screaming crowd that was rushing back into the church, looking for the car Andryse came in, but he realized that it was long gone.

A bullet hit the front visor of the car he was hiding behind and saw the residues fall on his shoulder. Getting lower, he pulled out the cartridges of the guns and cussed again when he counted two bullets left in one and three in the other one. His shots should count for something now or he was surely dead. He replaced the cartridges back and lowered his head again, when a bullet landed very close to him. Pumping his chest to take in as much oxygen as he could into his lungs, he slid his body along the car and put his hand in the broken widow of the passenger's seat and pointed the gun at the window where two men were putting their heads out, trying to see him. He fired, hitting one of them right between his eyes and went back down as the bullets went flying again.

At this moment, he heard a police's car siren and debated whether to let himself get arrested or make a run for it. The guys at the window heard the siren too and had quickly disappeared which made the way clear for him to get away. But where to? The sirens were getting closer and he decided to run in the opposite direction. His hands still clutching on the guns, he sprinted straight ahead, distractingly conscious of the people on the street who were hiding behind anything they found or screaming when they saw him running in their direction. He came up over an intersection and turned left without thinking and came upon a tall brick wall that he swiftly jumped over. He landed on his hands and feet and looked around him with his breath short.

He was in the front yard of a private house, a large red iron gate on his left. Keeping himself balancing on his feet planted on the ground, he put one gun inside his pants, right in the hollow of his back and pulled his shirt down to cover it. Holding the other in his right hand, he stood up carefully to instinctively go back down as the police cars were passing by behind the wall. The noise lingered for a few more minutes then the street went completely silent. He breathed in slowly and looked at the house in front of him.

Walking prudently, trying not to make his feet make too much noise on the graveled pathway, he put his ear against the front door, listening for any indications of someone inside. He tried the doorknob and decided to go through the back as it was locked. Still on his toes, his gun up ready to fire and his back stuck against the walls, he made his way behind the house to come upon a big yard with a lot of flowers and trees. Still no sign of anybody. He ventured up to the back door and this time, it opened, letting him in. Twice more careful, he walked through a well assembled kitchen, his toes pressed on the floors, not to make any noise on the hardwood floors.

If there was anybody in, they sure weren't around the kitchen right now or anywhere close enough for him to sense their presence. He put the gun on the counter, laid his hands on the sides and exhaled, trying to bring the adrenaline down. He didn't even realized that he was sweating until now. And he was really thirsty too. He walked up to the silver door fridge and took a bottle of water, drinking it in one shot. He exhaled again, feeling his body heat slightly getting down. The hot temperature in this country was no joke but he had bigger problems. What was his next move?

In his precipitation to save his life, he had left his bag and everything he possessed was in it. His fake ids, clothes, phone, money. Everything. He was stuck in a country he knew nothing about, had no one he could trust, couldn't understand the first thing when it came to the language and to top it all, people he had no idea who, were trying to kill him. He couldn't even get a hotel room. If only he could contact the US, they could at least wire him some money.

Internet. He raised his head at the thought. Maybe these people had internet here. He went closer to the room across the kitchen and saw the sofas sitting in front of a television set. He picked up the gun, hiding it behind his leg and stepped inside.

There were two doors opposite each other with a third, next to the one on the right. He guessed it was the master bedroom and prudently opened it. He immediately saw the computer sitting on top of a desk. But there was no sign of a modem or anything indicating an internet connection. Cussing silently, he checked the other room, not even finding a computer inside. He went back to the kitchen, still cussing and leaned on the counter again. What other options he had left?

First of all, he needed to figure out how the hell did everything went askew. Who were these guys trying to kill him? How the hell did they know about his mission? Only two people knew plus this Max guy. Only him knew where exactly his position would be for he was the one to find the location and organize how the operation would go down. He had to find him... But how ?

Andryse. He frowned when the name popped in his head. Something was telling him that she had all the answers he was looking for. He remembered her telling him to get out before the shooting started, which clearly meant that she knew they were coming to kill him. She looked at him straight in the eye so she knew that he was sitting there, his finger on the trigger. She was hovering over her father to protect and cover him, somehow knowing that he wouldn't shoot her.

And in return, she warned him. Did she know who he was? Did she know all along in the plane? Who the hell was she? He slid his hand in his back pocket and found the piece of paper with the number she gave him. Was this another trap or did she know that he would be in this situation and would need her help? Why would she want to help him exactly? His teeth clinched trying to force down the anger building inside of him. He hated not knowing and not being in control. But what other choice did he have?

The writing was fading with the paper being wrinkled and damped by his sweat but he didn't hesitate when he dialed it on the home phone he found in the living room. The phone rang just two times and a woman's voice came on.

"Allo."

He inflated his throat and his voice came out very deep. "Hi. Do you speak English?" The woman answered in her maternal language and he sighed, exasperated. "Andryse. Is Andryse there?"

He wasn't sure if that was her real name but it was all he had. There was silence then he heard a word he didn't understand and there was a click on the line. The line didn't go dead so he waited until another woman's voice came on again.

"Hello?"

It wasn't Andryse but he felt relieved to hear the English connotation. He pumped his throat again but this time, didn't waste time in formalities. "I wanna speak with Andryse."

"Who are you?"

"Is she there?"

He heard an annoyed sigh on the phone and she answered impatiently. "I gotta have a name or I hang up."

He felt his jaw tightened and closed his fist on the gun he was still holding. "Joe."

"I see." the voice continued quietly. "Don't worry, she will find you."

This time the line cut off and he looked at the phone, not believing that she had just hung up on him. What the fuck did that mean, she will find him? He pressed on the numbers to call again but quickly hung up as he heard the big gate in the front of the house opening. He ran back where he came in and waited for the people to get in the house before climbing the wall again and landing on the street. The gun in his hand was too big to be hidden under his shirt unlike the other one, so he walked into the wall, his head up looking around him while his hands pulled out the charger, freed the chamber from the extra bullet and put everything in his pockets. He pulled up his shirt to wipe his fingerprints on the empty gun and left it on top of the wall.

He put on his sunglasses that he had left hanging by the front of his shirt and walked down the street to find himself at the same interception and decided to go back to the church. Who knows? Maybe he could be lucky enough to find his bag and continue on his mission. Because there was no way he was abandoning. He would not only do what he came here to do, but get all his questions answered about Andryse. And he had the intention of doing it all just in time to still enjoy his week off.

He was trying to look as debonair as he could, just a tourist walking down the streets, sweating every bit of water he had in his body, but deep inside he was ticking like a bomb ready to explode. The gun still in his back weighed heavily and stuck to his skin He wanted to remove it but not only he didn't want to bring unnecessary attention to him but it was the only weapon he had to defend himself. Thank God the streets were almost empty with people probably running away from the heat and just relaxing behind their big gated houses. While he was running, he didn't notice he had covered so much ground and felt a little relieved when he saw the people surrounding the police cars that were still parked in front in the narrow street.

He hid behind an electric pole, a few feet away, looking at what was happening. They had put yellow tapes all around the car he had use as a shield before and blocked the streets with big cement blocks with the word 'police' written on all of them. There was no way he could get any further without having all eyes on him. He turned around and started heading the way he came when he heard a low whistle. He stopped, trying to locate the noise. He turned his head on the left and saw Max standing behind a bush, waving at him. He instinctively brought his hand behind his back, to hold his gun and walked to him. The Afro wearing man indicated him not to talk and invited to follow him.

Joe watched him closely, walking fast through the backyard of the house Max had entered and looked around. No one else seemed to be there so he just jumped over the bush and followed him at a safe distance, his hand still on the gun, all his senses in alert. He didn't trust him at all but if he could get some of his questions answered, then Max was welcomed to do so. They prudently got on the other side and Max indicated him to sit in the car he was driving earlier. Joe checked that no one was on the back seat and pulled the gun out and sat down, pointing it over to Max as soon as he got behind the wheel.

"Put your hands where I can see them." Joe ordered him sternly, putting the gun on the side of his head. Max put both his hands on the wheel, his eyes straight in front of him. "What the hell just happened back there? Who were these people?"

"They're working for Patron." he answered with a calm voice. "They knew you were going to be there."

Joe pressed the gun harder on his temple, gritting his teeth. "How could that be without you snitching to them?"

"I told you no one's ever succeeded in killing him. Someone always tips him and no one's… ever made it out of the plane alive." he answered, his eyes still in front of him, his voice null of emotions.

Joe frowned, taken aback. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You're the only one who's ever landed alive." he answered, his eyes looking at Joe in the mirror. "Every time they send someone, I never even get to make contact."

Joe didn't say anything so he continued. "I was curious to see how it would go down so I stayed. When I saw you fighting with them and then run away, I imagined you would come back and would need help."

"How did they know I was there?" Joe shouted, pushing stronger the gun against his temples.

"I don't know."

"Bullshit." Joe gritted his teeth again. "Even I didn't know where or how it would go down. Only you, knew."

"I don't know." Max shouted back, looking at him in the mirror. "They must have followed us from to the airport or something."

"And why would I believe that crap?"

"Because I'm the only one who can get you of this country without you being killed."

Joe hesitated for a second, looking at him. He could tell Max wasn't lying. His breathing was regular, no sweats and nothing indicated that he was under emotion or trying to hide something. Unless he was a goddamn good liar.

"I can take care of myself. Who's the girl?" he finally answered, putting less pressure on the dark-skinned man forehead but still keeping it up.

"What girl?" Max asked, frowning.

"The one who was with him. She was in the plane with me."

Max slightly tilted his head on the side, his eyebrows still up. "She was? She is his daughter. What was she doing in the plane?"

Joe's chest closed up, a ball in his throat, suddenly realizing the truth. "She was there to kill me."

Max shook her head. "No. She's a sweet girl. The complete opposite of her father, she could never kill anyone."

"I wasn't supposed to get out of that plane alive." Joe said in a cold voice, his mind racing. If she was there to kill him, why didn't she? He had totally let his guards down with her. And why did she warn him earlier?

Max turned to him completely, his head still going left and right. "Maybe it was just a coincidence."

"Where can I find them?" Joe asked abruptly, lowering the gun.

Max looked at him with a surprised look. "You can't go after them. You will end up dead."

"I can take care of myself." He repeated with a closed face, his jaws tightening. "I came here to do a job and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Max scoffed, feeling relieved that he could finally put his hands down. "You just proved that you're good by getting out of there alive, but you're not that good. You will be dead before getting close to ten feet to them."

"Can you get me some money and some guns?"

Max looked at him, smiling. For some reason, he really liked this guy. If anything, he really got big balls. He was really surprised when he saw him walking out of the plane. He had seen him talking with someone, but at the time, couldn't make out who, from being rather far away from the crowd. Something must have had happened between the patron's daughter and him on that plane and now, he wanted to go into the devil's lair to take him down. Max had no idea how it would end but he sure wanted to be a witness to the man who finally brought down Patron and put an end to all of his shitty businesses. He turned the key in the ignition, pulling the car out in the street.

"Of course I can, how many guns do you need?"

One hour later, after going through a dense and very busy traffic, Max brought him to a big warehouse where different men were guarding the entrance. He asked Joe to wait while he got out and talked to them. A few minutes after, they rolled inside and he opened up a big iron gate revealing a large room where there were mountains of guns and munitions. Joe wanted to ask him where they found all that artillery but didn't, telling himself that it was none of his business after all. He picked up a couple of machine guns and three semi, putting them in the large bag Max gave him with loads of refills.

"I can't drive you further than that man." Max told him, showing a point on the map of the area where Patron lived. "The house is located at the end of a long entrance with a big gate and is guarded by two men and a camera directed at everything that comes near the gate."

Joe thought about it for a quick moment then explained his plan to the young man. Max bobbed his head in approval, admiration in his eyes.

"Could work but once you get inside, what happens?"

"I start shooting."