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)
With a vibration in my pocket, I put down my drink and read Tepic’s text: Emergencia.
Shit. What now? Forcing my shoulders down, I excused myself and dialed Tepic as I wound through the tables toward the windowed perimeter of the dining room.
“Diego,” Tepic answered breathlessly. “Have you talked to Jojo?”
“I’m still in the city with Costa.” I stopped at a floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooking the city. “What is it?”
“An explosion at the Juárez-El Paso tunnel.”
I closed my eyes and clenched a fist. What the fuck? That tunnel had been a million-dollar construction in itself, not to mention a crucial channel into the States. “Tell me that’s the only news.”
“No.” He hesitated. “Mike and Felipe were inside. And they didn’t make it.”
I looked down, massaging my temples with one hand. I was no stranger to losing people on my crew, but it never got any easier. It was personal. Mike and Felipe were more than workers—they were friends. I refrained from making the sign of the cross only so I wouldn’t draw attention. “This wasn’t an accident,” I said.
“No, patrón.”
“What happened? How much did they have with them?”
After some static on the line, Tepic said, “I’m finding out the exact amount—”
“How much?” I repeated.
“Jojo says they were mid-delivery. Some made it but not all. Five, maybe six containers gone.”
“Puta madre,” I said under my breath. “Make sure every border agent on our payroll knows we have no margins. Pay them more if you have to. And get every man we have guarding every stash house.”
“Some are en route to Guadalajara to meet with Nuñez’s guys.”
“Bring them back. We need all hands on deck.” I glanced at the table to find Cristiano watching me as Costa picked a cigar from a box the waitress offered. “Keep me updated,” I told Tepic and hung up.
The cityscape glowed against a starless night sky. I tried to figure out how to break this to Costa. This wasn’t human-pyramid bad, but now we’d hit our absolute limit. That was a serious problem in itself made worse by the fact that whatever was happening, it was calculated. And it was in front of Cristiano. Or because of him?
He’d been back less than a week, and things we’re starting to fall apart on the most important deal I’d ever made. Natalia had drawn the right conclusion—Cristiano had lost the only life he’d known when he’d been forced from the compound. A life he’d felt he’d deserved, even if it’d been built on betrayal. And now he was back—but I was the one who had Costa’s trust.
Was my brother here to earn it back?
And how would he regain it?
I didn’t doubt he had come home with a plan. Did the Maldonados somehow play into it?
I pocketed my phone and returned to the table. There was no use in drawing out bad news, so I resumed my seat at the table and dismissed the waitress.
“What is it?” Costa asked, puffing on his Montecristo. “I was about to order.”
I placed my elbows on the table, leaning in. “A tunnel has been compromised at the border,” I said.
Costa nearly choked. As he coughed, smoke billowed around him, shrouding his reddening face. As I sensed his temper mounting, I glanced around to remind him we had onlookers.
When he’d calmed, at least in appearance, he spoke. “We’re under attack.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
Costa looked to Cristiano. “It has to be one of the Maldonado cartel’s many enemies who don’t like the idea of us working together. Don’t they know fucking with us means severing ties to our network?”
“I can find out.” Cristiano spun his glass on the table. “But right now, you need a plan.”
“Damn right we do.” Costa scrubbed a hand over his face and pulled at his long chin. “What are you thinking?”
Why was he looking to Cristiano for guidance? How easily they fell into old patterns. After our parents’ murder, Costa Cruz had set us up at the ranch house on his compound, far enough away that gunfire wouldn’t draw attention, but close enough that the main house was only a short drive. At the ranch, Cristiano had been fed choice food, armed with the finest “toys,” and boarded in a private room while I’d shared everything with the others adopted by the cartel.
Costa and Bianca Cruz had favored Cristiano up until her untimely death. But now, I was the one who ate at Costa’s dinner table many nights. I had over a decade on my brother of unwavering loyalty to Costa. Of standing by his side to build a business with limitless potential—and profits. And of being there for Natalia whenever she needed me.
Failing the Maldonados could take all of that from me. And if my instinct was right—Cristiano knew it.
“I can still salvage the shipment,” I interjected. I couldn’t dwell on what was gone. I needed to protect what remained. “We won’t exceed the Maldonados’ expectations as I’d hoped, but we’ll still be within the percentage we promised.”