Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
“Nevertheless, we’re ready. With this partnership, we take things to the next level.”
I should’ve made my presence known. I’d found out at a young age that sneaking around was the only way to get information. Back then, it’d been exciting. Now, information was both powerful and burdensome. People who knew too much were targets. Witnesses. Leverage. The more you knew, the harder it was to escape this life.
And the more dangerous you became.
But my curiosity continued to burn the brightest flame, no matter how I tried to extinguish it. I resisted the old habit of removing my shoes to mute my steps, but I still peeked into the light-filled room, finally laying my eyes on Diego. He was as beautiful as ever. His normally silken brown hair had been kissed by the sun and was long enough to tuck behind his ears. He’d been working outdoors more, and it showed, not just in his skin tone and hair color, but in his broad, muscular shoulders. He stood straight and tall to address my father. I wanted to run and throw my arms around his neck, but Papá wouldn’t stand for it.
Patience, Diego had told me a million times before.
It had never been my strong suit.
“This is not a partnership.” Deep lines slatted across Papá’s tanned face. Each time I saw him, he appeared older, but his voice boomed, and his clear, molten brown eyes painted him as more youthful than his fifty years. He was as astute as ever, and his overbearing height defied how the bags under his eyes sometimes made him seem tired. “The Maldonado cartel is not a partner but a master,” he said. “With this deal, they’ll own us.”
I considered entering the room and cutting off the conversation, but the name stopped me short. Even I knew—and I made it my business not to know much anymore—doing business with the Maldonados was dangerous.
“Times have changed, Costa,” Diego said. “Eleven years ago, you reevaluated your business model, trading risk for security and violence for a quiet life—not that such a thing exists in this world. It’s time to adapt again.”
With my mother’s death, much had changed, and not just in the obvious ways. Father had scaled back his business as newer, more bloodthirsty cartels like the Maldonados had come up the ranks.
“My father would roll in his grave to know we’re not as feared as we once were,” my dad said, glancing out the window of his second-floor office.
Diego put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re still here, and we’re just as powerful, but in different ways.”
Diego spoke earnestly and with his hands. It was hard not to see his passion, intelligence, and charm, but that still wasn’t enough to convince Papá that Diego was the man for me. Nobody was good enough in my father’s eyes—especially not someone who belonged in this world. My father cared about Diego in his own way; he’d practically raised him. But unless I could convince him otherwise, Diego would always be a soldier, a right-hand man, a cartel member . . . and a threat to my safety.
“Many leaders of the old order have either been captured, killed, or forced out,” Diego continued. “Who of your former enemies remains? Not many. I’m going to ensure the Cruz cartel—and the de la Rosas—don’t fall to the same fate. We do that by moving forward with the times.”
“The de la Rosas don’t exist,” Father said, warning in his voice as he regarded Diego with heavy eyebrows. “You’re a Cruz. And while I know our success is as important to you as it is to me, there’s risk in wanting more. There’s much to be said for stability.”
“With new technology hitting the market each day, there’s more risk in staying still. We’re number one in shipping and logistics now, but that can always change.”
I leaned on the doorjamb, worried Diego was into something he shouldn’t be. If I asked either of them why they’d taken a meeting with the Maldonados in the first place, I’d get the same answer I always did.
Don’t worry. Todo bien. Everything’s fine.
My father rubbed his forehead as he frowned. “And making a risky deal is moving forward?”
“We’ll deliver,” Diego said, crossing his arms with a shrug. “Their requirements are no different than any of our other arrangements. They have a valuable shipment to get across the border. As the premier transportation option in México, we can make that happen. Simple.”
“The difference is who we’re dealing with. How much product are we moving?”
“More than we’re used to,” Diego admitted. “But I’m not concerned. As other cartels distract themselves battling each other, we’ve solidified a nearly flawless, strategic network. I’ve assured them an eighty-seven percent success rate.”
“Eighty-seven, eh?” Papá asked, slipping on his glasses to bend over and read his computer screen.