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I’m no longer a rational man, and with every ounce of emotion—the raw rage on my face—I whistle loudly. The sound reverberates throughout the large building and his head snaps up, giving me the perfect opening. All color drains from his face and he mouths my name a second before I pull the trigger.
One bullet and Chiquito Salazar is dead, his head thrown back as fragments of his brain and skull spread behind him.
I’ll see you in hell one day.
I look over at Thiago and smile. “I’ll take them all. Everything you have.”
“You know the price.”
At this, Geronimo’s steps forward with two briefcases in his hands. They’re placed atop a cargo box and then opened. “There’s two million dollars there and eight more if we can triple this order within the month. There’s a radical movement growing, and I sit at the helm of this war. My men will need the best to fight.”
“Done.”
We shake hands, but I pull him in for a man hug. “I don’t know how you knew about him or why he was here, but that son of a bitch has been avoiding my wrath for the last month. This goes way back—weeks of watching him fuck up—this was coming either way, but he decided for me when he hurt my family.”
“An unforgivable act.”
“Thank you for this kind gesture.” Pulling back, I clasp his shoulder and look over at the merchandise being prepped for shipping and the efficiency in which his men handle everything. “I appreciate this, De Leon. You’ve won my loyalty.”
“You’re very welcome.”
30
“SO, WHERE ARE we heading to first? I’m kind of starving,” Lourdes says from the front seat of the rental SUV beside Carlos, who’s in charge of our safety. Two more armed guards are accompanying us, a man and a woman, but they’re following in a nondescript car two spots behind us as to not draw attention. “That omelet this morning left me kind of blah.”
“What are you in the mood for, Mija? It’s almost lunchtime anyways.” Sara’s tone is gentle next to me, but beneath the surface, she’s angry and hurt—feels betrayed by her daughter—and I wouldn’t be surprised if at some point on this trip, they have it out.
It’s been simmering since they found out she’s pregnant.
Everyone’s genuinely happy about the baby, but you can feel the disapproval of how it came to be. As a woman, it’s something I struggle with as well because being the other woman is never acceptable. I feel for his soon-to-be widow—my heart breaks for her and the hard position this has placed Alejandro in with their family.
A family that I’ve come to respect after they took in the Lucas family after his father’s arrest.
Some are pissed. Daniel is torn. The wife is begging for someone to end it all.
It’s another reason why I admire Alejandro. How he’s taken charge and promised to deliver Salazar’s body in a casket to help soften what his sister has done.
Will it magically disappear by doing this? No. Not really, but the effort and support he’s given shows his heart.
Looking out the window, I take in the city and all its traffic. For a weekday and in the middle of work hours, every lane is full of passing cars flying at higher speeds than the signs along the streets suggest. They zoom and cut and honk; I’ve seen four people get cursed out within thirty minutes and oddly, the craziness has some charm. It reminds me of our busy highways and the way people react to that one driver that refuses to go over thirty in a sixty-five lane.
It also makes me think of my cousin; she’s an angry driver. Behind the wheel, she’s a menace and I’ve prayed to more than one God the few times Carlos let her drive after nagging him half to death.
There’s a pang in my chest at thoughts of her. She’s changed. She’s not the same girl who used to come over and spend hours playing dress-up while complaining about how much she hated math. Or how unfair it was that birthdays only came once a year.
And when this is the longest we’ve been without the other, all she cares about is Signio. Him. His body. His injuries that I have no clue about.
I regret answering that call yesterday. I should’ve turned my phone off like Mom did the moment we stepped outside the presidential grounds.
“…what about you, Solimar?”
My head turns in her direction and I give her a sheepish look. “I’m sorry, Sara. What did you say?”
“Food, kiddo? Are you hungry, too?” Mom interjects, snickering from the last row, and my cheeks heat up a bit. “Anything that you might want to try while we’re here?”
“I’d like to try Cuban food while we’re here, but if you guys want—”
“That sounds amazing. Can we?” Lourdes asks her mom, giving her a small smile from over her shoulder. “There’s a place I wanted to visit later tonight for dinner, but now will be even better.”
