“Is Mia okay?” I wrote, not bothering to add that Eduardo was losing his patience; Nero would already know that, and Mia was more important.
I waited, silently willing a response to appear. Around my cracked phone case, my fingers tightened, turning my knuckles white.
“Ah, Alejandro.”
Eduardo’s booming voice jolted me out of my thoughts to focus on the elegantly dressed man stepping into the room. His dark eyes went from our boss to me before returning without ever missing a beat.
“Boss.” He gave an inclination of his chin. “Forgive my tardiness.”
I ignored the bullshit and peered past him, hoping Nero was right behind him.
The doorway stood empty.
I peered down at my phone again. No time had passed since I’d checked last, but it did bring to mind a million other concerns.
Had Alejandro not taken Mia home? Had he hurt her? Was Nero still waiting for her? But why wasn’t he answering my messages? Had Alejandro done something to him as well?
I was on the verge of lunging out of my seat and making a run for my car when Nero strode into the room, long legs taking even longer strides to his seat. His dark eyes met mine in the faintest flick, all the assurance I needed to relax in my seat. Neither of us said a word when he pulled out his chair and dropped into it.
Alejandro was watching us from over Eduardo’s right shoulder when I glanced up. There was nothing in his expression, the hard lines were a blank slate, yet his eyes burrowed into mine with a knowledge that made my fingers curl beneath the table.
“Good. Everyone is here.” Eduardo shifted higher in his seat and surveyed the men around the table. “Let’s begin. Alejandro?”
With a smooth sweep of his gaze, Alejandro shifted his eyes to our boss and the meeting waiting to unfold.
“Thiago what’s the news on the shipment?”
Thiago Cortez was our captain. He ran our small patch. He’d done so badly since my dad was alive. The guy was sloppy and irrational. Too many years nose deep in his product had left him paranoid and unreliable, but he made money and that was all Eduardo cared about.
Joaquin, Thiago’s second in command, stood just over his shoulder, hands folded in front of him. His dark eyes were pinned to the back of Thiago’s skull as if the world’s most interesting movie was playing across the bald spot.
Joaquin was the guy who cleaned up after Thiago and the main reason Eduardo hadn’t killed Thiago years ago. He was the one who made sure the wheels on the rusty machine continued to churn, made sure the product got to where it was going and the money never got lost. I had no actual feelings towards the guy one way or another. He’d always struck me as a teacher’s pet, a little weasel who enjoyed lurking in the shadows of someone more powerful, but I admired his loyalty to a man who could barely tie his own shoes without support.
Thiago wasn’t an idiot. He was dangerous. His unpredictability had gotten more than a few people killed in the past. Yet, he wasn’t as bad as some of the others at the table. He definitely wasn’t stupid enough not to recognize the thin ice he was on when Eduardo waited for his answer.
Thiago wiggled in his seat, a nervous gesture that drew attention to the beads of sweat on his brow and the tremor in the hands he hastily shoved beneath the table. “It was in route—”
“Was,” Alejandro cut in without ever raising his voice. “Last week, we discussed the new shipment rolling into the harbor this Friday.” He glanced towards Thiago. “That shipment was intercepted this morning by the coast guard based on an anonymous tip. Why are we only just hearing about this now and not when your contact reached out to you this morning?”
The fleshy folds of Thiago’s throat bobbed and wiggled, mimicking the quiver in his multi-layered chins. “I … I was going to tell you now—”
“Now?” Alejandro cocked his head to one side. “When it’s too late to do anything about it?”
“This isn’t the first shipment to get pegged,” Emmanuel Narvaez interjected. “No one is safe. It’s that fucking Devil—”
“Someone is talking,” Joaquin piped in, embolden by the misdirection of the conversation. “It has to be someone from inside—”
“Are you saying someone in our family would talk to the authorities?” Alejandro narrowed his eyes. “I hope you have proof to back your accusation, Joaquin.”
Joaquin shrank in his seat. “I … I didn’t mean … it’s not just our shipments. All the other—”
“I don’t care about the others!” Eduardo rounded on Thiago, eyes alive with fury. “I care about my shipments. I want to know where my product is.”
Thiago looked on the verge of shitting himself. His skin had taken on a pasty complexion that reminded me of soured milk.
“Where is the product, Thiago?” Alejandro stepped in, his tone deceivingly gentle.
“Impound,” Thiago breathed.
Eduardo gave the smallest of nods, which was enough for Alejandro to motion someone into the room. One of Eduardo’s burly thugs walked straight over to where Thiago sat cowering in his seat and pulled out a gun. It was leveled to the back of Thiago skull.
“Joseph will accompany you to wherever my product is being kept,” Eduardo stated evenly. “You will get it out. I don’t care what you have to do. Once it is safely tucked away in my warehouse, I will decide your fate.”
Thiago’s chair was yanked out by Joseph and he was marched from the room at gunpoint. Joaquin never hesitated. He shoved off the wall and scampered after the pair. Everyone listened until their combined footfalls faded into the distance.
A knowing silence descended on the those of us remaining. All eyes were on the vacated seat. No one had the guts to be next on the chopping block by meeting Eduardo’s gaze.
“Now that that matter has been settled.” Eduardo shifted back in his chair, fingers folding neatly beneath his chin as he surveyed the rest of his flock with cool, brown eyes. “Let’s discuss new business.”
There was no new business. There never really was. All the ways that we could make money was already being utilized. There wasn’t a single stone left unturned, but every week, Eduardo would ask, and everyone would do their best to put a spin on their previous idea, hoping it might spark approval. Except, Eduardo wasn’t stupid. He could smell a money-making scheme from a mile away. The guy wasn’t the leader of an entire city because he could easily be fooled. He rose to power before he was even in his thirties, kept that power well into his sixties and held on to it with an iron fist. He’d been in charge since my dad was a kid and he’d most likely stay in charge well after I was dead. He accepted no bullshit, took no prisoners. Dad used to say Eduardo Bernardo was a man I should look up to and take note. He was the kind of man I should emulate, and I did — to a point.
Eduardo wouldn’t be around forever. One day, he would step down or get taken out by a rival. Who was to say me or Nero couldn’t take that seat? It was a long shot, but it wasn’t impossible. The other men at that table were all old, rundown and beaten. They clung to the old ways, ways that no longer worked. With them gone, we could start a new organization with fresh minds and ideas. We’d have to clean house. Start fresh. It wouldn’t be easy, but we could build an even bigger empire given the chance.