“And if he were to walk onto the island to take her, I’d have the opportunity of a lifetime. But we both know he’s too much of a pussy to do that.”
“He’s not going to be walking onto the island, Cristiano,” he says, dropping the subject of Scarlett. At least for now.
“What do you mean? Did you find him?”
He looks around, gestures to the SUV. “Get in. We’ll talk on the way to my office. You won’t be late to your meeting.”
I do, and he follows. I look out of the bullet proof window, glance at the row of SUVs trailing us. My uncle doesn’t like to take any chances with his life. It’s funny to see how much he values it, in a way. He wants to live. He has a passion for life. Or a healthy fear of death. Two things in which we are on opposite ends of the spectrum.
“Here.” He hands me a folder out of his briefcase. He’s old-school. Leave no electronic trail. Ever. It’s probably what’s kept him out of prison.
I open the folder and the first thing I see is a grainy photo of the man who orchestrated my family’s massacre.
The younger Marcus Rinaldi.
I flip through the photos, look at the vast, empty land around him. I look at the men in their pickup trucks, the porch of the house he’s stepping into. The bigger house I recognize.
“He’s in Mexico?”
My uncle nods. “Making an alliance between the De La Cruz Cartel, which he considers himself the head of since he is engaged to Scarlett—”
“He can consider himself the fucking king of England for all I care. It makes no difference to me. Like I said, he’s no longer engaged to Scarlett. She told me she’d rather kill herself than fuck him.”
“Well, that’ll be news to him then.”
“Go on. I recognize the De La Cruz house. But what’s this one? With whom is he forging this alliance?”
“Felix Pérez. Jacob’s son-in-law. He’s back in the picture and has some support within the Cartel. I don’t think he’s very powerful yet but if they joined forces, it could damage us considering our situation with the other families.”
“I’m about to resolve that situation.” I close the folder. “And I have no intention of letting them damage us. Were these taken with a drone or do we have men there?”
“No men. Too dangerous. He’s untouchable as long as he’s on Mexican soil.”
“No one is untouchable. Ever.” I look straight ahead, my mind working.
“What about the old man. You can take care of him. Maybe it’ll lure Marcus back.”
“I already told you, we’re not killing a man who is in a fucking coma. That’s cowardice.”
He studies me for a beat. “You can’t go after him in Mexico, Cristiano. They’ll kill you on sight.”
I look over at him. Does he see how little I care about that? As long as I kill Marcus first, I don’t care if I walk out of there or not. I just have to be the one to end that motherfucker’s life before I die. That’s all I care about. “You said you have names.”
He nods, takes out another folder from inside his briefcase where I see stacks more.
“George and Stella Normandy.”
“Not Italian names.”
“No, but she’s Italian. George is American. Married about thirty years ago. They’re heavily invested in the flesh trade. They run a couple of clubs, for lack of a better word, where patrons pay top dollar for use of the product—”
“They’re people, Uncle.” Product. It bothers me that he calls the women that.
He pauses, looks irritated for a moment before continuing.
“As I was saying, patrons pay top dollar for use of the women. For anywhere from a single night to several years.”
“Then I guess business has been bad lately.” We intercepted the last shipment, and my men are still working on repatriating the girls and women to their countries, their families. It’s harder than you’d think. Some have been slaves for years. Some don’t want to go back home out of shame. And some of them, well, their families don’t want them back. Dirtied goods. As if being kidnapped and sold was their choice.
“You could say that.”
“How did you find out about them?”
“You know I have my contacts.”
“And you won’t say.”
“I can’t.”
“Fine.” My uncle has a lot of contacts. We pull onto the street where his office is. “Anything else?”
He looks out the front window. “You should have what you need and the couple in question has been…contained.”
I nod as we come to a stop in front of his building. “Have a good day, Uncle.”
“Let’s have dinner. We can talk about Rinaldi. Make a plan.”
“Another night.”
“Soon.”
“Soon.”
He opens the door and has one leg out but stops, turns back to me with a strange smile on his face. “Leave a mess Cristiano.”
I study him. For not actually wanting to have his hands in the bloodier side of things, he’s more macabre than I’d guess he’d be.
“Always do, Uncle.”
11
Cristiano
Charlie and Dante are standing outside of the restaurant a little out of town talking.
They’re both dressed impeccably in dark suits and looking, for all intents and purposes, like legitimate businessmen. Dante’s twenty-six now. My one remaining brother. Our bond is strong, but he can be a pain in the ass, too. Although Charlie’s the same age as my uncle David, he looks younger.
Five SUVs are parked in the lot and several soldiers are loitering by their vehicles.
I climb out, adjust my cuffs, very aware of the eyes on me.
“Everyone’s here,” Charlie says.
“How many soldiers?”
“About two dozen. No firepower inside.”
I nod and turn to my brother. “Have a good night?” I don’t like the nights he spends off the island, but I understand.
“Okay. How about you?”
I snort.
He smirks. “What’s the matter, Brother, don’t tell me you didn’t get any.” He clucks his tongue.
“Fuck off.”
He puts an arm over my shoulders and leans in close. “I can find you a girl who looks like the De La Cruz girl if that’s your—”
“I said fuck off.” I shove his arm off me.
“Getting laid might help you relax a little.”
I grunt.
“Hey.” Dante moves to stand in front of me. He adjusts the collar of my jacket then rests his hands on my shoulders. “You okay?”
Am I okay? No. I’m not okay. I don’t remember the last time I was okay. But I nod. “We should get this done.”
“You’re not doing it alone, you know. I’m right there beside you. We take it back together. We destroy the motherfuckers who tried to destroy us together.”
I study him, smile, mess up his hair. “Thanks for the pep talk but it’s all good. Let’s go.”
He smiles. I know he’s got my back and I’ve got his even if we don’t agree on everything.