murdering half a dozen soldiers in order to steal some cargo. Ever since then, the two factions have been at each other’s throats, with casualties on both sides. Diego seemed to think joining with the Yezhovs would make the Pérez cartel too intimidating to fuck with, but the attack at the docks has proven otherwise.
Within hours of returning to Indian Creek, Diego calls Jovan, Jaime, and a handful of other lieutenants into one of the living rooms. Instead of gently prodding me from the room like he usually does when talking business, Diego pulls me down onto his lap. He slouches on the sofa, one hand cupping my ass as he addresses his men.
“What we’re about to discuss doesn’t leave this room,” he says, the look in his eyes contradicting his casual tone.
He’s furious about what happened the other night, and became more enraged when learning that eight of his soldiers were killed in the gunfight.
“As I’ve started recovering, some of the details I forgot are coming back to me,” he continues, idly running his hand up and down my back. “I got clocked on the head pretty hard, but I remember hearing a phrase in Armenian. Jaime can you translate?”
Jaime frowns and picks up his phone, tapping at the screen. “I can try, boss. Ask me to translate Russian or Gaelic and it’s no sweat. I’m still learning the Armenian.”
I perk up at that, surprised to hear this. All this time, Jaime was presented to me as the cartel’s resident computer nerd and nothing more. He’s big and his body is jacked, but I’ve never seen him with a gun, and I know he doesn’t go out on jobs with the other men.
“How many languages do you speak?” I ask, too curious to keep quiet.
“Six,” Jaime says without looking up from his phone. “Armenian will be the seventh once I master it. But the others are English, Spanish, Gaelic, Russian, Arabic, and German.”
“You’re like a Swiss army knife,” I joke. “Just when I think you can’t get more surprising, something new comes out.”
Jaime offers me a quick glance and a smile, then looks to Diego. “I have some common phrases I keep around for quick translations. What do you remember?”
Diego rattles off a sentence in the foreign language, pausing and stuttering over some of the syllables. Jaime has him repeat it a few times, his eyes darting and his lips moving silently as he scrolls through his list of phrases.
“Arman,” Jovan says, picking up on the first word. “That’s a name … where do I know that name?”
“Arman Sargzyan,” Diego replies. “Head of the Karmir Brotherhood … a subset of the Armenian Power cartel.”
“Fucking shit,” Jovan groans, running a hand through his hair. “I thought that pendejo was still in Greece.”
“So did I,” Diego says. “But I know I heard the name. Maybe he ran to the States to escape extradition? He’s wanted in his home country.”
“Arman Sargzyan sends his regards,” Jaime says suddenly, interrupting Jovan and Diego’s back and forth. “I’m pretty sure that’s the translation. It was a warning. They knew you were wearing a vest. The idea wasn’t to kill you … it was to let you know Arman’s in town and he’s brought the Brotherhood with him.”
“Goddamn it,” Jovan mutters, getting to his feet and pacing back and forth. “We’re so fucking fucked!”
“Calm down,” Diego says, still not reacting to what he’s hearing. His calmness is unsettling. “We are far from fucked. We have the Yezhovs. Just because I married Elena doesn’t mean the deal is off. Some of Oleg’s men were killed that night too, not just ours. A powerful, mutual enemy is just the thing to make our alliance official.”
I go stiff on his lap, my blood running cold as something he said niggles at a memory in the back of my mind. I’ve heard words similar to the ones Jaime just translated. The language is unmistakable now that I know what it is—with loose, flowing vowels like stringed instruments, and staccato, harsh consonants peppering it like drumbeats.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, feeling like I might faint. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Diego frowns, his eyebrows drawn down. “What’s wrong, gatita?”
I stand up and press a hand to my forehead, trying to remember the night of our engagement party more clearly. I can’t be wrong about this. Lives are hanging in the balance, including mine and Diego’s, and I can’t risk sending him after the wrong man. But, as I turn over the words Diego spoke