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Sweat beads on both sets of brows, and those in the room to witness don’t dare speak.
“Shoot him.”
“Javier, I’m—”
“Unable to follow simple instructions?” Because playing the role of a monster and being one are two vastly different things. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I can do it.” His shaking limbs say otherwise. His expression is one of utter fear.
“Then get closer and use both hands to steady the shot.” Not that his injured shoulder helps, but it amuses me to see him grit his teeth while doing as I say. “You have five seconds to shoot.”
Francis closes his eyes, and I move closer. He exhales roughly, and I smirk. “That’s five.” Before he can react, I have the Glock back in my hand and Gil lies dead with a bullet hole to the side of the head. Fragments scatter with the force of the blast. A lifeless body. Cold, vacant eyes.
I drop the gun between his bare feet and wait.
No reaction. Not so much as a twitch of a muscle.
My eyes flick to Alejandro, and he presses a button on his phone. At once, the buzz of speakers fills the space and Francis’s voice filters through the room.
“I told you this would be easy, parce. These people are mindless slaves. If the Lucas family says jump, they fall into line and ask how high.” The sound of an engine turning can be heard, and then the seat belt alarm follows shortly after. His companion doesn’t give more than a grunt in answer, giving Francis the opening to run his mouth. I’ve listened to this recording. “Cocky assholes sit comfortably atop while we do all the work.”
“But isn’t your dream to be them?” Gil asks. A lighter sparks and you can hear his deep inhale from a cigarette. “That’s why you’re doing this, no? The money, power, and easy pussy attached.”
“Always for a willing whore!” Both men laugh, but then Francis sobers. “But apart from that, I said yes because both Alejandro and Javier denied me the money I needed. They cost me my wife, and I’m returning the favor by taking a client and making them lose a lot more than the fifty thousand dollars I asked for.”
“They couldn’t spare fifty?” Gil’s tone is incredulous with a hint of amusement. “That’s nothing to them. Not even a blip on their accounts.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then why say no?”
“Javier—”
“Turn it off.” Alejandro does and then tosses the device to land beside the gun. Francis looks down at both, face pallid. “Say it again.”
“Say what?” He doesn’t look up at me.
“Finish what you said on the recording.”
“You know?”
“We do.” Every single member of my family does.
“How?” Now his eyes meet mine, and in them I find defeat. “I didn’t talk around—”
“The pickup Gil offered was one of ours, you dumb motherfucker. It was a loaner he got from Emiliano a day before under the guise of being here on vacation. An idiot move, for a man who didn’t hide his tracks well.”
“Why?”
“We let you empty the fields. We let you make the transaction with him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You will be.” I take the few steps toward the tray with the machete and pick it up, slapping the metal against my palm before turning back to him. He’s a mess: bloody and weak. “But this was the risk you were willing to take when you decided to rise against us, and all because we wouldn’t give you the money needed to silence your mistress.”
“It wasn’t supposed to end like this.” Francis hangs his head, shoulders slumped. “In and out is what he promised me and with the move, Ana would forgive me. She’d come back.”
“Why put yourself in this position?” I ask, but the answer is of no true importance.
