“What the . . .” Derek began to say as he jumped up from the couch.
Brianna grabbed his hand, pulling him back down. “It’s okay. Don’t say a word—I’ll take care of everything.”
“They have guns!” He yanked Brianna off the couch and headed toward the back door.
“Alto!” The men yelled. One of the masked men jumped over the couch, blocking Brianna and Derek’s path. He pointed a gun directly at Brianna’s head.
“I said to stop!”
Brianna and Derek froze. The man motioned for them to back up. “Sit. On the couch. Apurate! Hurry!”
Still holding Derek’s hand, Brianna complied, assuming these men worked for her father and they came to either escort her home, or take her to another location. Two of the men moved toward the couch while the remaining three checked and secured the area. Brianna quickly scanned the room for her bodyguards and realized they were missing.
The men surrounded the couch and pointed their guns at Brianna and Derek. One of the men yelled something in Spanish, and Brianna’s three bodyguards entered the room with their hands on their heads, each being escorted by an armed, masked man in black. She was reminded that this was why she had bodyguards: to protect her from men like this—men who were willing to kill her or use her as leverage to get to her father.
With everything happening at lightning speed, Brianna tried to make sense of the situation. If this was a rival cartel, her death was imminent. Best case scenario, she was shot. Worst case, she didn’t even want to think of the torturous things that could be inflicted upon her.
“I can pay you,” Derek pleaded to the armed men. “Whatever you want, just name your price.”
One of the assailants came up behind Derek and put a cloth over his mouth, while another man tied Derek’s hands. Derek struggled and kicked his legs furiously until another man smashed the butt of his gun against Derek’s knees.
Brianna was too frightened to move. Her heart pounded and her body shook uncontrollably. What should she do? She’d always had bodyguards to protect her.
No one said a word. Brianna found it strange that the men managed to capture all three of her bodyguards alive and without a sound. Her bodyguards were trained by a former Navy SEAL and would die to protect her. The masked men forced the three bodyguards onto their knees in front of Brianna. She saw the fear in each of their eyes.
One of the men put a silencer on his gun. He pointed it at the first bodyguard’s chest and said, “For your disloyalty.” He pulled the trigger and the body fell over, blood pooling on the ground. Before Brianna could comprehend what just happened, her second bodyguard was shot. Then the man turned to her last bodyguard. “Ben, for your loyalty to Salazar, you are spared.”
Another man turned his gun to Derek. Derek’s eyes widened. He screamed through the cloth and thrashed his body. Brianna wanted to say, “I’m so sorry.” But the words wouldn’t come.
She turned to the men and found her voice, “Please, no . . . he has nothing to do with this!”
“He has everything to do with this. Brianna, this is for your betrayal.” The man pulled the trigger, shooting Derek in the chest. Derek’s body jerked violently and his eyes, still focused on her, made him seem aware for a moment—as if he was asking her why this was happening to him. Then Derek’s head rolled forward, and he fell face first on the floor with a sickening thud.
For a moment, Brianna couldn’t see anything. This was the first time she’d witnessed a murder, a death. She felt detached from her body, like a fly on the wall watching a horror movie unfold. It wasn’t until she sensed warm blood on her body that she came to, her head spinning, hands shaking, and feeling nauseous.
Derek couldn’t be dead—there was no way that these men killed him along with two of her bodyguards. There had to be some mistake. She closed her eyes and began to pray silently, “Dear God, please forgive me. I have disobeyed my father. Please forgive me.”
Brianna wished her lunatic father would just kill her instead of playing these games. But that’s why he didn’t; he enjoyed tormenting her and watching her in agony. Death would be too easy.
Matt Fueller watched the Judge, wondering if he would cooperate with the federal government and allow Jose Chavez to walk.
Carefully avoiding eye contact with the members of the courtroom, Judge Carr explained his reasoning for the verdict. Amidst his speech, Matt heard the words he’d been waiting for, not guilty. A loud mixture of cries for both joy and injustice echoed throughout the courtroom.
A sly smile spread across the defendant’s face as he shook his attorneys’ hands, seven including Matt, while they exchanged congratulations.
The attorneys agreed ahead of time that it would look best if one of the American attorneys, especially the young one with blonde hair and blue eyes, escorted Jose Chavez from the courthouse.
Matt walked down the courthouse stairs with Chavez, and hundreds of reporters swarmed around them. They shoved microphones in their faces as they shouted questions.
“Mr. Fueller, can you explain how your client was found not guilty?”
“Mr. Fueller, isn’t this a prime example of what money can buy?”
Matt didn’t make a statement; being with his client was enough, for now. He pushed everyone back, leading Chavez to the awaiting car.
As they approached the vehicle, a loud pop resonated off the marble façade of the courthouse and Chavez fell to the ground. Matt ducked behind the black limo while screaming reporters ran for cover. He glanced at the body and saw a round bullet hole in the middle of Chavez’s forehead, blood pouring out around him.
***
“Chris, what the hell happened!” Matt yelled, entering the conference room at the Drug Enforcement Administration Division in San Diego.
“We don’t know. We’re still gathering information,” Chris, the case agent, frantically replied. “Come in and have a seat. Once everyone arrives, I’ll go over what we have so far.”
“I could’ve been killed. I was standing right next to Chavez.”
“True, but you weren’t. That’s all that matters.”
This wasn’t supposed to happen. As a DEA agent, Matt had worked a year undercover as an attorney to get Jose Chavez an acquittal. Jose was going to lead the DEA to his uncle Juan Chavez—the leader of one of the largest and most ruthless drug cartels in South America. They were so close to finally catching Juan Chavez, but once again, he eluded them.
While Matt waited for everyone to arrive for the briefing, he sat, thinking about how he had gotten to this place in his life. As a child, he’d always intended to follow in his father’s footsteps and go into the FBI. His father made it seem like his job was really important and exciting. However, while Matt was in college, his father was murdered and Matt was too afraid to travel down that road. He saw what it did to his mother, and as a son, he knew what it felt like to lose his dad. There was no way he could put his family through that kind of pain. It seemed easier to continue with school, so he decided to attend UCLA School of Law after graduation. His mother accused him of avoiding difficult decisions. But at the time, it was easier to stay in school than venture into the real world.
After receiving his doctorate in law, Matt tried to make it work. He worked at some large firms earning high-end salaries, but he wasn’t satisfied. Then Matt discovered the truth about his father’s murder—that his father had been working undercover in conjunction with the DEA when he was killed by one of the most notorious Mexican drug cartels. Matt immediately quit his job at the law firm and applied for a job with the DEA. After being hired as a special agent, he attended nineteen weeks of training in Quantico, Virginia, and worked as a criminal investigator at the San Diego Field Division. He found that, like his father, he had a knack for doing undercover work. He had been with the DEA for just over five years now.
A little more than a year ago, the DEA discovered that one of San Diego’s largest and most powerful law firms was connected with the Chavez Drug
Cartel. With Matt’s legal background, he volunteered to go undercover, even if it meant being under for an extended amount of time. The firm gladly hired him, but little did he know, that was just the beginning. For the past year Matt had feared making contact with his family on a regular basis. He lived in a different house and used a different car, so nothing could be traced. Now that he had been under so long, it had begun to take a toll on him.
“Okay, let’s begin.”
Matt looked up at his fellow agents sitting at the large conference table. Chris continued talking, but Matt couldn’t focus on anything he was saying and decided to step outside for some fresh air.
After the briefing, Chris found Matt leaning against a tree.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” Chris asked.
“Thinking.”
“Well don’t. I need you back at the firm. They’re going to wonder where you are.”
“I’ve had enough. I don’t want to be undercover anymore.”
“Matt, you know the information you’ve provided has given us the opportunity to infiltrate the Chavez Cartel and track down their major players. You’ve uncovered their distribution routes. You’ve provided more information during the past year than we’d acquired from all our agents in the previous five years combined.”
“I know how important it’s been. I’m just saying I want out before I slip up, that’s all.” The longer he was under, the more likely he was to be murdered.
“Don’t worry, we’ll pull you out now that the case is over. We’re just waiting for the right opportunity. We can’t do it right now without creating suspicion. Besides, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to go under—remember that.”
“Get up,” Marie demanded, opening the blinds to Dominic’s room. “It’s a beautiful day…or afternoon.”
Dominic moaned and covered his face with his pillow.
“You can’t hide in here forever,” Marie said. “You need to start looking for a job so you can move into your own place.” She took Dominic’s pillow and tossed it to the end of his bed.
Dominic was not amused. “Leave me alone, Mom. Can’t I have a couple of days to myself?”
His mother was always so pushy and demanding. Dominic didn’t want to acknowledge it was daytime, he didn’t want to get out of bed, and he certainly didn’t want to deal with his pain.
“No, the world doesn’t work that way. Now get your fanny out of bed. I will not have my son moping around the house like this. Yes, Claire dumped you. Yes, it’s painful. But you have to get over it. Move on. Trust that God has a plan for you and this is for the best. You may not see it or understand it right now, but everything happens for a reason.”
Dominic wasn’t surprised that his mother saw things so simply. To her, everything was black and white. But Dominic wasn’t like that; he couldn’t turn off his feelings for Claire and move on so easily. Whenever one of his sisters was dumped, his mom always let them sulk around the house, eating ice cream and chocolate. Why couldn’t he have a few days to himself? Having Claire break up with him was equivalent to an untimely death. And every death required a decent period of mourning.
Marie was about to launch into another speech when the doorbell rang and she went to answer it. Dominic was thankful she’d left. He didn’t want to listen to his mom dismiss Claire so easily. A moment later, Marie shouted Dominic’s name.
Dominic crawled out of bed and grabbed a T-shirt. Walking to the front door, he rubbed his eyes.
“Can I help you?” Dominic asked, squinting in the bright sunlight. A man dressed in a business suit stood in the entryway, clutching a briefcase.
The man raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Dominic Bennett?”
“Yeah?” Dominic asked, yawning.
“I work for Austogen Pharmaceutical. We’re currently hiring and would like you to come in for an interview.”
Dominic was still trying to wake up and enter reality. A pharmaceutical company? But his degree was in business, not science. “What?” Dominic asked.
“You come highly recommended by Professor Fellows. A car will come by on Monday at nine to pick you up for the interview. Make sure you wear a suit. Good day, sir.” Without waiting for an answer, the man turned and walked to the black Mercedes parked on the street.
Dominic stretched his arms above his head.
Marie’s face went white as she watched the car pull away. “I don’t want you to go to the interview,” she said.
Dominic laughed. “Didn’t you just tell me to get out of bed and go look for a job so I can move out?”
“Yes, but not this job. Trust me.”
“Why?” Dominic asked, closing the door.
“Because I’m your mother and I said so. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Laughing, Dominic left the room and went to take a shower.
***
Once Dominic was in the bathroom and Marie heard the shower turned on, she grabbed the phone. With shaking hands, she called her husband at work.
“Richard, we have a problem. He sent someone here . . . for Dominic. Something about a job interview.”
“Who sent someone?” Richard asked.
“You know who—him.” Marie couldn’t bring herself to utter the man’s name.
“Are you sure? We haven’t had contact in years,” Richard responded softly.
“It wasn’t him personally, but it was definitely someone working for him. I can feel it. I have a sick feeling in my stomach. I told Dominic not to go to the interview, but you know how this man can be—he always gets what he wants, and Dominic has no idea what he’s dealing with. You have to do something. You can’t let him go!” Marie was practically yelling.
“Please be reasonable. Why would he send someone to our home, after all these years, and offer our son a job? It doesn’t make any sense.” Richard tried to sound convincing.
“He has no family and no heir. You’re the closest thing to a brother he has. It makes perfect sense he wants our son.”
“But, after the way we left things. . . .”
Marie was unprepared for this intrusion into her family’s life. “Richard, the man that came here was from Austogen Pharmaceutical. We have to do something,” she begged.
“Austogen?” Richard’s voice shook. “I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”
Marie made the sign of the cross and vowed to stop Antonio Salazar.
***
After his conversation with Marie, Richard went straight to the DEA Division in San Diego. He knew he had to involve the DEA, but now that he was there, sitting across from an agent, he wasn’t so sure that was the solution.
“Mr. Bennett, you say you know the leader of the Ramon Salazar Cartel?” the agent asked.
“Yes,” Richard answered, clutching his hands together.
“And you know where he lives?”
“Yes.”
The agent scribbled something down on his pad of paper. “But, you won’t tell us anything, unless we guarantee protection for you and your family?”
“Yes.” Richard tugged on the collar of his shirt. Sweat accumulated on his neck and armpits. If Salazar found out that Richard was there, talking with the DEA, Salazar would kill his family. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. After all, he didn’t know for sure that Antonio was trying to recruit his son.
“Mr. Bennett, before we can guarantee anything, we need to see if your information is good. If you can tell us something, like where the man lives, and we can verify it, we’ll give you the protection you want.”
“Okay.” Realizing that there was no turning back, Richard said, “The man running the Ramon Salazar Cartel is Antonio Salazar.”
“I thought the man in charge was Ramon,” the agent said, writing something else down on his pad of paper.
“At one point, about eighty years ago.” Richard shook his head. Where did the DEA get their information? You would think they would at least know the basics. “Ramon was Antonio
’s grandfather. He started the organization and ran it until his death in 1957. Then his son, Javier, took over. Javier was murdered in 1972, and then his son, Antonio, stepped in. The man currently running the cartel is Antonio Salazar, and he lives in La Jolla. His right-hand man is Phillip Shephard—he’s an attorney and just as dangerous as Salazar. Now, I want protection for my family.” Richard stared directly into the agent’s eyes.
Laughing, the agent said, “Do you mean to tell me that the man running the largest, and most ruthless, cartel in modern history is living right here in San Diego, in La Jolla?”
“Yes,” Richard replied.
“And how do you know this?”
“I’m not saying anymore until I have protection.” He knew they would never believe him. Antonio’s cover was too perfect. Nobody would ever suspect him.
“Mr. Bennett, why risk your life and come to us with this information?” the agent asked.
“I already told you. I’m afraid that he’s trying to recruit my son, and I need to stop him before he succeeds.”
The man scribbled down some more notes. Richard covertly glanced at the pad of paper. He was able to make out the word “surveillance” and the names Antonio Salazar, Phillip Shephard, and Dominic Bennett were jotted below it.
“Okay, Mr. Bennett. Let us check out this information, and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible. In the meantime, I’m willing to provide an unmarked car with an armed agent outside your home.”
An unmarked car? One agent? What a joke. But at least things were in motion.
Wearing all black, Brianna walked down the long hallway of her father’s house. She passed several stone archways, dimly lit by the morning sun, that led to various rooms in the enormous house that seemed more like a fortress than a home to her. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to remain calm and in control, then she moved through an archway and entered the dining room. Before her, at a twenty-foot mahogany table, sat her father with his back to her, reading his newspaper. She looked beyond him to the large windows at the other end of the room, to the ocean in the distance.
The Power to See Page 2
