Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
Carlos’ eyes go wide. “A ton?”
“Did I stumble?”
“Can he pay for that?”
“Oh, I’m sure he will.” I smile.
Carlos rolls his eyes. “You’re insane.”
“Perhaps, but soon I’m winning. All I need now is for Chicago to play ball and Dominges to die.”
“Good luck with that. He’s like a damn cat with nine lives.” Yes, he is, but perhaps Una is onto something in that I just need to take him out. You can plan for every eventuality, but sometimes you need to just jump the gun. He’ll be on the defensive now, but we also killed a lot of his men last night, and he’ll be scrambling to replace them. Meanwhile, his brother is dead, his lieutenants are scattered. The Sinaloa is hanging by a thread, but it is still hanging.
I check my watch. “Let’s get Chicago first,” I say.
70
Rafael
By the time I get back to the compound, it’s late. Chicago fell in line even easier than Miami. And so I take the prize jewels of the Sinaloa Empire. Of course, Dominges still has some of his distributors, but it’s only a matter of time before my coke is flooding the streets. It seems that he’s all but defeated, but I always worry about a man with his back to the wall. He has very little to lose, and therefore his actions cannot be predicted because they aren’t rational.
As soon as the plane comes to a halt, all the lights cut out. Outside it’s pitch black. Think of it like the blitz, a complete blackout makes it invisible to anyone who might fly overhead. Call me paranoid, but if I lose this compound, I lose everything. All my eggs are very much in one basket.
Lucas shines a torch, leading the way back to the warehouse. Inside, it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the bright light. Carlos limps along behind me, his crutches clicking over the ground rhythmically.
“Get those shipments organized, Carlos,” I say before heading for the stairs that lead to the living quarters.
I fully expect to find Anna in the bedroom, but she’s absent. I trek the length of the warehouse looking for her until I finally ask Enrique, one of Carlos’ Lieutenants.
“She went with her sister,” he says.
“What? Where?”
“I don’t know boss. Angel de la Muerte didn’t look in the mood for questions.”
I can’t even be mad about it. Braver men have shied away from the tiny Russian. Taking my phone from my pocket, I use an app to track the GPS that Carlos installed on Anna’s phone last night. I felt like a dick taking her phone while she slept, but I wasn’t going to risk her running riot with her sister again. Last night was lucky. I knew exactly where Una was going. Next time I might not be, and the thought of Anna that close to Dominges and that outnumbered…it’s not a risk I can take.
The little blinking red dot flashes up on my screen, showing her in a bar in Juarez. I dial Samuel’s number and place the phone to my ear.
“Yeah?” he answers.
“Do you have a track on Dominges?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s at his compound. He’s pulled all his men there.”
“Storm the place. I’m taking Carlos and his men to The Black Bull.”
“Why?” he asks.
“Una’s there. And where Una is…”
“Something is usually going down,” he finishes.
“Exactly. I’m sending some more guys to you. I need you to get it done, Sam.” I hang up and inhale a deep breath. I need this fucking war over with. I can’t handle this with Anna here. She’s a wildcard, and I can’t work with that kind of variable. I’m trying to think of every eventuality, but she always pops into my mind.
Kill, threaten, bribe. Anna. Kill, supply, expand. Anna. Cocaine, money, blood. Anna. She’s like a damn alarm on repeat in my mind, a sickness I have no cure for. And I’ve accepted it. I won’t apologize for the way I love her, to myself or anyone else. However, this situation becomes less and less stable every day that she’s here because she will always be my priority. It’s a shitty position to be in.
I rally Carlos and his men within ten minutes, and we jump in a couple of vehicles. The bright moonlight cuts through the darkness of the desert, illuminating the dusty road in front of us. The atmosphere in the car is tense, and I know it’s coming from me. My muscles are practically humming with tension until they ache.
Lucas sits next to me, his knee bobbing nervously. “Lucas.”
“Yeah, boss?”
“Stop.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
The tension ratchets, right up until the moment that we pull down a side alley across from the bar. Leaning forward, I narrow my eyes, peering through the windscreen at the scene in front of us. The bar is run down, with plaster crumbling away from the exterior brickwork. A wooden sign with a black bull painted on it hangs above the door. Trucks and motorbikes are parked outside, and through the grimy windows, I can see that it’s busy.