Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Tor snorts. “Not such a big bad criminal now.”
“Not at all.”
“A month old, and she’s already got you and Marney wrapped around her little finger.”
Something rustles in the bushes below the balcony, then someone whistles. “Ese?”
Ese? The only person who has ever called me that is Gabe. Who is supposed to be in prison–again and who should have no idea where the hell I am because I’m supposedly dead–for a second time. I push up from the chair and move toward the edge of the porch, glancing down at Gabe in flip-flops and a Hawaiian shirt. “What the fuck are you doing here, Gabe?”
His gaze shifts to Cayla, and a smirk settles on his face. “What the fuck are you doing?” He shakes his head then scales the trellis, hurling himself over the balcony railing.
“There’s a door,” Tor mumbles. “Who the hell is this?”
“Tor, Gabriel.”
Gabe thumbs at Tor, giving her a once-over that has me wanting to knock his damn teeth down his throat. “Damn, Jude. Is that your muchacha?”
“I’ll punch you, Gabe.”
He holds up his hands, then plops down in one of the patio chairs. “You’re a bastard. I almost shed a tear over your dead carcass. Should’ve known better, amigo.”
“Gabe… I swear to God if you blow this shit for me.”
“Fuck me, ese. I’ve not blown shit. The Sinaloa cartel blew your shit like a hooker without a gag reflex.”
My jaw sets and I pass Cayla off to Tor, who flashes me a disapproving look before going inside. I glance at Gabe. “What are you talking about?”
“The cartel finds out everything.” Gabe shrugs a shoulder like this is no big deal. “Not going to lie, my dick got a little hard when I heard you sold out, Garcia. I’ll piss on his dead body.” Gabe spits on the ground, and I’m glad Tor’s not out here because she’d lose her shit. “Him and his pussy cartel. Fucking joke.”
I massage my temples. This is not the shit I need or want. “Gabe, why are you here?”
“I’m out of prison–again.” He holds his arms wide on a grin. “And I’m getting my shit in order. You’re my cleaner, ese.”
“Hell no, Gabe. Hell to the fuck no.”
He cocks his head like a damn parrot. “Did you go deaf? I said the cartel knows you’re alive. They know you sold out Garcia.”
Fuck no. This is not how this goes. “They don’t know shit. They heard I sold out Garcia before I blew up in a fucking transport van, Gabe.”
“Yes, yes. You blew up… and yet, I found you.”
Goddammit.
“All I’m saying, ese, is you want to try to tackle those crazy fuckers on your own, then you’re the crazy fucker.”
“And cleaning your money helps me how?”
“It’s an exchange. Camilla said no one would set foot on your island as long as you clean the money.”
I glare at him. “We’re supposed to be friends.”
“Yes, but my sister hates you...I can do nothing about that. She doesn’t give things for free.”
“What the hell ever, Gabe.” The feds promised me anonymity when I offered to sell out a Christmas list of their most wanted list, but they also washed their hands of me the moment I made the deal with them, telling me I would be on my own once that van blew up. No witness protection. Nothing. The best I can do is the cartel. And isn’t that some shit?
He settles back on the lounge, placing his hands behind his head on a pleased sigh. “We’ll have good times, my friend.”
Real good times. Might as well get the damn cartel’s name tattooed on my ass at this point.
“What in the ever-loving hell is…” Marney freezes halfway over the threshold, a menacing scowl setting on his aging face. “Fucking Estrada.”
Gabe flips Marney a middle finger before rambling off something in Spanish, I’m certain is an insult.
“Boy…” Marney hitches his pants up before striding over to me. “What’ve I told you about the damn cartel!”
Gabe picks at one of the fifteen nicotine patches on Marney’s arm, peeling it off. “What the hell is this?”
Marney snatches it and slaps it back on. “Smoking’s bad for the baby. Just like you and your filthy cartel.” He glares at me. “Bad for the baby.”
An annoyed huff I know all too well comes from the side of the patio, and I glance over to see Tor in the doorway, without Cayla, and glaring at Gabriel like she will rip his head off if given the chance. “Cartel?” She digs her fists into her hips. This is not good. Fuck, this is not good. “You need to leave,” she says, growling.
Gabe throws his head back on a cackle. “You’ve got a lot to learn, muchacha.”
“No, you’ve got a lot to learn—”
“Tor…” I get up, and she crosses her arms over her chest on a stern glare. “It’s kinda complicated.”