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“Exactly.”
Rage and sadness filled me. “Archibald ordered a heart that was compatible for him.”
“Correct. The Alligator Don went to Cali and Sinaloa Cartels to broker the deal. This means that all parties had a huge stake in the matter.”
“What was everybody getting?”
“The heart cost 1.5 million dollars. The Don’s fee was also a million.”
“And how much were the Cartels getting?”
“They knew Archibald was weak and desperate to avoid death, so they thought bigger.”
“What did the Colombians want?”
“Cali Cartel forced Archibald to talk to the US’s DEA and other agencies to give them a legal air route into the US for five years.”
“So they could bring drugs, organs, and whatever they want into the US while the government turned a blind eye?”
“Correct again, Emily.”
“And the Mexicans?”
“Last year, the US captured their leader, El Cazador.”
“What does his name mean?”
“The Hunter. Known for his relentless pursuit of enemies and traitors. Either way, the US put him behind bars and gave him life in prison with an extra 50 years.”
“And Archibald could deliver?”
“He pulled strings, disappeared politicians, and agency officials, and he puppeteered everyone to do as he said. The Hunter was supposed to be free today.”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck is right. Understand this. Cali Cartel grabbed and killed several migrants until they had a compatible heart for Archibald. Many died, before they found the right one this week. Next, Sinaloa Cartel transported this heart to the Alligator’s Don compound.”
My stomach twisted.
“And then the Lion came around killing the Don and his people, but most important, his men trampled over the heart.”
Terror gripped me.
I approached the grand entrance, the doorman, clad in a crisp uniform, greeted me with a nod and swung the door open.
New Orleans in daylight was a spectacle of color and sound, with the streets alive with the spirit of music and laughter.
But my eyes were drawn immediately across the street, where Kaz stood out like a star amidst all the commotion.
There he was, Kaz, my fiancé, effortlessly pushing a stroller with our son, Emilio, snugly tucked inside. His tall, lean frame moved with a confidence that was both striking and innate.
And as I watched, I couldn’t help but notice the way women’s gazes lingered on him. Several even threw him flirty glances.
Must you be a sexy dad, Kaz.
Sighing, I returned to the phone call. “So. . .what do we do now, J.P.?”
“The Cartels want the Lion’s blood spilled out all over the streets. Archibald will surely do anything to make your stay in the US unbearable.” Jean-Pierre cleared his throat. “Now I am heading your way so I can address this situation before it spirals further out of control.”
