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These are men that know Carlos—close friends—and have heard from him as recently as a few hours ago.
They know Matias Quintero paid for his assassination outside of a Cuban restaurant in Miami. They know I’m coming to burn this place to the ground and everyone in it that stands in my way.
All ten on watch tonight will work through the morning when another group is set to relieve them. They’ll never make it inside for the switch. The platica I’ve given each man is more money than they make in the accumulation of six months. It’s enough for them to spoil their families a little bit and still save for any rainy day ahead, something that most citizens around the world can’t afford to do.
“Where is he now?” I ask through the walkie, the message going to the earpiece of the guard outside Sol’s door. He doesn’t answer right away but does turn his end on so I can listen in. At first it’s low, but that changes after a few seconds.
Are we sure he’s still in Miami?” The voice coming through the walkie-talkie is older and speaks gravely, as if the owner smoked a few packs of cigarettes a day for more than ten years. “I want that hijueputa’s head on a spike to decorate the front lawn, Matias. Make it happen, and find my motherfucking money.”
“I’m working on it.” Another male speaks, and I can deduce its Matias talking to his good-for-nothing sperm donor. “He’s been spotted on South Beach by Angela who’s still with him. Seems he’s looking for Solimar in Florida, not here.”
That’s because, in exchange for her life, Angela is serving a higher purpose. Lying comes naturally, and she’s agreed to feed false information to save her hide.
“And did you find who made the hack?” Ice clinks in a glass before they call out for the guard I’m listening through to refill their glasses. “Because that man isn’t smart enough to do it himself. Once an ignorant farmer, always an ignorant farmer. Alejandro is just like his father: a dreamer with mediocre hopes for more.”
I chuckle at this.
Never underestimate your enemy. They’ve never understood this but will soon learn.
I am the devil’s son, and I’m here to collect my pound of flesh.
“No. Nothing yet.” There’s a tinge of annoyance to the president’s tone. Of exasperation. “Whoever cleaned out your accounts is more than likely long gone, Father. Besides, they are not our focus. Solimar needs to marry Signio or the deal with the Russians is off. Cortez wants this union and will hide behind the charity work we present her with. A few stolen women here or there won’t draw too much attention, and much less at the innocent woman helping to feed the poor.”
Jose chuckles. “That’s quite a deal you have going for yourself.”
“Harvested organs go for a high price on the black market. I’m nothing more than a supplier.”
“And you think your daughter is going to help you? Can you keep her under control?”
There’s a beat of silence and then a hum. “She doesn’t have much of a choice. I hold no qualms in slicing up Veronica, my wife or not, and my daughter knows this. And if she wants her mother to stay alive, complete obedience is the only way.”
Chairs scrape against the flooring and their voices begin to drift. They’re not saying anything of importance, but I make up enough. The wedding is tomorrow at ten a.m. with four hundred of their closests attending.
Signio Cortez will never make it down the aisle.
“Where is she now?”
“In her room. I delivered her dinner before being called to serve their drinks.”
“And is Cortez in the building?”
“No, Patron.” The sound of a door opening and closing comes through the line. It’s quieter where he is. “Those two are at Codicia for the bachelorette party, and her cousin Laura is at home.”
“Gracias, parce. Keep a good eye on her.” I wave a finger in the air and Geronimo stands, keys in his hand, and already walking toward the door. “I’ll add a little something extra for all your troubles.”
“You’ve been more than generous. Just save her. She’s too good for these monsters.”
Codicia is closed to the general public when I arrive, but no one dares to deny me entry when I arrive. Instead, the same woman from the night I met my little flower is at the hostess stand and this time avoids all eye contact.
“Welcome to Codicia, Mr. Lucas. Tonight we have three floors of debauchery: voyeur, audience participation, and an open orgy. What’s your poison?”
I ignore the gasps behind me from Laura and offer a smile to the poor employee. “I’d like to start at the orgy and end up in voyeur, if you don’t mind.”
“Excellent choice, sir. Please present your wrists.” There are ten men with me tonight and with Laura as my special guest, that makes twelve. One by one we get stamped with a special dye only to be seen under a fluorescent light until we get to the petulant princess who tries to refuse.
“I don’t want to be here, Mr. Lucas. Please take me back home.” There’s an ever-present tinge of snootiness in her voice that grates on my nerves, but I ignore it for my Sol. Because hurting this idiot would only serve to hurt the one I love, so I’ll be going a more unconventional route.
I’m going to do her the favor of opening her eyes to the reality she neglects.
