trucks, the porch of the house he’s stepping into. The bigger house I recognize.
“He’s in Mexico?”
My uncle nods. “Making an alliance between the De La Cruz Cartel, which he considers himself the head of since he is engaged to Scarlett—”
“He can consider himself the fucking king of England for all I care. It makes no difference to me. Like I said, he’s no longer engaged to Scarlett. She told me she’d rather kill herself than fuck him.”
“Well, that’ll be news to him then.”
“Go on. I recognize the De La Cruz house. But what’s this one? With whom is he forging this alliance?”
“Felix Pérez. Jacob’s son-in-law. He’s back in the picture and has some support within the Cartel. I don’t think he’s very powerful yet but if they joined forces, it could damage us considering our situation with the other families.”
“I’m about to resolve that situation.” I close the folder. “And I have no intention of letting them damage us. Were these taken with a drone or do we have men there?”
“No men. Too dangerous. He’s untouchable as long as he’s on Mexican soil.”
“No one is untouchable. Ever.” I look straight ahead, my mind working.
“What about the old man. You can take care of him. Maybe it’ll lure Marcus back.”
“I already told you, we’re not killing a man who is in a fucking coma. That’s cowardice.”
He studies me for a beat. “You can’t go after him in Mexico, Cristiano. They’ll kill you on sight.”
I look over at him. Does he see how little I care about that? As long as I kill Marcus first, I don’t care if I walk out of there or not. I just have to be the one to end that motherfucker’s life before I die. That’s all I care about. “You said you have names.”
He nods, takes out another folder from inside his briefcase where I see stacks more.
“George and Stella Normandy.”
“Not Italian names.”
“No, but she’s Italian. George is American. Married about thirty years ago. They’re heavily invested in the flesh trade. They run a couple of clubs, for lack of a better word, where patrons pay top dollar for use of the product—”
“They’re people, Uncle.” Product. It bothers me that he calls the women that.
He pauses, looks irritated for a moment before continuing.
“As I was saying, patrons pay top dollar for use of the women. For anywhere from a single night to several years.”
“Then I guess business has been bad lately.” We intercepted the last shipment, and my men are still working on repatriating the girls and women to their countries, their families. It’s harder than you’d think. Some have been slaves for years. Some don’t want to go back home out of shame. And some of them, well, their families don’t want them back. Dirtied goods. As if being kidnapped and sold was their choice.
“You could say that.”
“How did you find out about them?”
“You know I have my contacts.”
“And you won’t say.”
“I can’t.”
“Fine.” My uncle has a lot of contacts. We pull onto the street where his office is. “Anything else?”
He looks out the front window. “You should have what you need and the couple in question has been…contained.”
I nod as we come to a stop in front of his building. “Have a good day, Uncle.”
“Let’s have dinner. We can talk about Rinaldi. Make a plan.”
“Another night.”
“Soon.”
“Soon.”
He opens the door and has one leg out but stops, turns back to me with a strange smile on his face. “Leave a mess Cristiano.”
I study him. For not actually wanting to have his hands in the bloodier side of things, he’s more macabre than I’d guess he’d be.
“Always do, Uncle.”
11
Cristiano
Charlie and Dante are standing outside of the restaurant a little out of town talking.
They’re both dressed impeccably in dark suits and looking, for all intents and purposes, like legitimate businessmen. Dante’s twenty-six now. My one remaining brother. Our bond is strong, but he can be a pain in the ass, too. Although Charlie’s the same age as my uncle David, he looks younger.
Five SUVs are parked in the lot and several soldiers are loitering by their vehicles.
I climb out, adjust my cuffs, very aware of the eyes on me.
“Everyone’s here,” Charlie says.
“How many soldiers?”
“About two dozen. No firepower inside.”
I nod and turn to my brother. “Have a good night?” I don’t like the nights he spends off the island, but I understand.
“Okay. How about you?”
I snort.
He smirks. “What’s the matter, Brother, don’t tell me you didn’t get any.” He clucks his tongue.
“Fuck off.”
He puts an arm