by Apryl Baker
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Copyright © 2018 by Apryl Baker.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: February 2018
Crave Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
http://www.cravepublishing.net/
Formatting: Crave Publishing, LLC
ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-322-1
ISBN-10: 1-64034-322-9
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
For every mother who’s lost a child.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
The crowd below looked more like an ant farm than an actual New York street, teeming with busy people, Juan Ramirez noted as he watched from his thirty-second-floor hotel room. It always fascinated him how very animalistic humans were, even when they clung desperately to the trappings of society. At heart, people were all animals, himself included. Sometimes he even pretended to be civilized, but today was not one of those days.
He checked his watch again. Mona was late. The bitch had been late for their last three meetings. She seemed to be under the impression she was safe just because she happened to be the daughter of a councilman. These putas, they were all the same. Maybe this time he’d teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget.
After another thirty minutes and no Mona, he pulled on his jacket and checked his gun, making sure it was fully loaded. Habit, really. He had other business to attend to this morning.
“Mateo!”
The six-year-old ducked his head through the door. “Sí, señor?”
“Grab your shoes, little one. We have business to attend to.”
The little boy nodded and disappeared back into the bedroom. Juan heard the television turn off, and then the child came shuffling out of the room, rubbing his eyes. He hadn’t slept well the night before. Nightmares plagued him. He’d get over them soon enough. Juan was training the boy to be a weapon. He needed to be exposed to everything from a young age to let go of his conscience and become the killer the cartel wanted.
The boy could almost pass for a Hispanic if it weren’t for his green eyes. He played outside enough to be as brown as the other children, and his coal black hair blended in well. It was just his eyes, inherited from his mother.
From what Juan knew of the boy’s real father, the child took after him. It was hard for him to understand that killing was necessary. He had the nasty tendency to want to protect others. He’d seen it in the way the child stood up to bullies in the neighborhood, even at such a young age. It was Juan’s job to direct that protectiveness toward the cartel.
Those were the instructions he’d been given when they’d delivered the child into his custody six years ago. He kept himself detached, never letting himself care for the boy. That wasn’t his job. He was to keep him fed, clothed, and to train him. Much as he himself had been trained.
“Listo.”
Juan nodded and collected the child’s hand, leading him out of the room and to the elevator. The boy liked elevators. His eyes lit up every time they got on one. It was one of the small pleasures he allowed the child. Juan himself had been fascinated by escalators at that age. Having a little fun wouldn’t cause any harm to the grand scheme of things.
As they stepped out of the hotel, he noticed a black town car pull up behind his own black SUV. Mona tumbled out of the back door before her driver could so much as get out. She spotted Juan right away and smiled, her overly white teeth flashing in the sunlight. Golden bracelets clinked together on her right arm, distracting Juan from the woman’s tight red dress. She stumbled again as she started forward, her six-inch stilettos getting in her way.
“Juan.” She leaned in to kiss him, and Juan dodged her. She stank of cigarettes and stale beer.
“You are late.”
She gave him another sugary grin. “I’m not late, I’m just…”
“Drunk.” He couldn’t hide the disgust in his voice. “It is no matter. We can discuss our business on the way to my next appointment.” He took her arm and steered her toward the SUV, pushing her inside when his driver opened the door. There wasn’t room for all of them in the back, so he ordered the boy into the front seat. Mateo obeyed without question, his expression blank. Juan knew he suspected something bad was coming.
And it was.
“You have my money?” He let his eyes rove over Mona. She had a nice figure.
“Yes.” She dug around in her purse and pulled out a fat envelope. He took it from her and counted, ignoring her gasp of outrage. He no more trusted her not to cheat him than he did anyone else. All there. At least she was honest with her money. He tucked it into his breast pocket then turned his attention back to the simpering socialite.
“We must have the discussion of punctuality again, Mona. I am growing weary of this.”
“Juan, baby, I have responsibilities too…”
“No, you were getting hammered.” He cut her off before she started her usual spiel of bullshit.
She sent him what she probably thought was a sultry look, when in fact it looked like she’d just tasted something sour. He couldn’t abide drunkards, especially those who worked for him.
“Today will be the last day you are ever late to a meeting and the last day you will ever show up drunk.”
Her smile turned sly, and he knew she thought he was bluffing. He wasn’t.
“You’re going to learn what happens when you disobey me, Mona.”
The chill in his voice made Mateo gasp in the front seat. He’d used that tone on the boy enough during punishments for him to recognize it. He understood what it meant. Mona soon would.
“You think I can’t hurt you, puta?” He leaned over, his hand cupping her neck, his thumb stroking her jawline. “Because of your papa.”
She smiled, the triumph of that statement in her glassy, drunken eyes.
“You’re wrong.” He tightened his grip around her throat, cutting off her air. She squirmed, trying to get away, but he rolled on top of her, coming to rest with his knees on either side of the s
mall woman. “I could snap your neck and toss you in the dumpster behind the warehouse we’re going to.”
She struggled, bucking, but he simply squeezed her neck tighter.
“I know what you’re thinking. People saw you get into this vehicle. Cameras, evidence…” He grinned. “All I have to do is make a phone call, and all that evidence gets scrubbed clean. And those eyewitnesses? They’ll forget what they saw, or they’ll disappear. We never get caught. You’re not safe, Mona. The day you agreed to mule drugs for us, your life became ours to do with as we pleased.”
He eased his grip, and she drew in a small sip of air. He let his other hand cup her breast, twisting the nipple harshly. “Do you understand, Mona?”
Her eyes dilated, the fear finally beginning to show, but she didn’t nod. This woman. He shook his head and pinched her nipple harder, pulling a cry of pain from her.
“Do you understand?”
She nodded after a moment, and he let her go, sitting back down on his side of the SUV. This puta was going to learn her lesson today. Of that, he’d made up his mind. Everyone in the organization understood their place, and Mona was going to get it through her head if he had to beat her bloody.
They rode in silence for the next half hour as the driver took them into the Bronx. They pulled into the abandoned apartment complex Hector operated out of. There were no guards on the front. It wasn’t only whores who were stupid. Dealers who thought themselves kingpins suffered from the same affliction.
He opened his door and dragged Mona out. Mateo joined him without having to be told. They approached the front entrance, and again, no guards met them. It wasn’t until they descended into the basement that he ran into a guard.
“Buying or selling?” The tall black man stared down at Juan, his expression a no-nonsense one. At least they’d put someone who could do some damage on the door. He looked like a boxer.
“Juan Ramirez to see Hector.” His quiet voice belied the danger behind the words.
“I don’t know a Juan Ramirez.’
“Hector does.” He put a bit of a bite into his tone and the guy stared at him for a heartbeat longer, debating, but opened the door and allowed him inside.
Juan shook his head. None of their guards back home would have been stupid enough to let an unknown individual into the heart of one of their drug houses. He would have been verified first. These New Yorkers. None of them understood anything.
The basement itself was a hive of activity. Three rows of tables had been set up along one wall where drugs were being cut and packaged. Another two rows of tables took up the other wall where people sat counting money. Never have your money and your drugs in the same location. That was the first rule of the cartel. The police might get the drugs or the money, but they’d never get both. Laziness.
He spotted Hector laid back on the deep red velvet couch enjoying a blow job from a dark-haired woman. His whore, most likely, or one of the gang’s girls who serviced any of the male members when required. He had his eyes closed, sweat outlining his brow, while he moaned at the talented little mouth pleasuring him.
Juan watched them, his own cock twitching. The puta seemed to know what she was doing. He let out a long breath when the girl did something that brought Hector’s ass up off the couch, and a deep groan escaped the man. Perhaps Juan would taste the girl himself.
He strode over and pulled the girl from Hector by the hair and tossed her aside. The man’s eyes opened, the glare dying when he saw the gun pointed at his cock. For a man like Hector, the loss of his manhood would be more detrimental than anything else Juan could do to him. Unfortunately, death was in the cards for Hector.
The sound of the gun echoed through the room louder than even Hector’s screams as blood gushed from his cock. It wouldn’t kill him quickly. He’d have to bleed out, but it would ensure he listened to Juan and that everyone here heard what he had to say.
“You think we don’t know everything, Hector? We don’t know you’re skimming money from the prostitution rings, overselling the drugs, and keeping a share? This is not your operation. It is the cartel’s operation, and you are nothing.”
“I wasn’t…” Hector pressed down on the wound, trying to stem the blood and stop the pain. “I…”
Juan fired the gun again, and it hit Hector’s kneecap. Another scream rolled out of the man.
“Don’t lie to me, boy. You think I would be here if we didn’t have proof?” He fired another bullet into the man’s foot. “You knew what would happen if you cheated us. We told you the rules from day one, and you thought you were smarter than we were. That you wouldn’t get caught. Stupid.”
He saw Mateo out of the corner of his eye. The boy stood stoic, his eyes fixed on the horrific scene in front of him, but they burned with rage. Juan needed to find a way to flip that rage to the side of the cartel. He worried the kid would never be an asset to the cartel. He was too much like his father, but that wouldn’t deter Juan from doing his best.
“Mateo, come here.”
The boy shuffled over to him, his spine stiff and his eyes downcast.
“What happens to those who betray us?”
“They are punished.” The boy looked at Hector, his expression as emotionless as his voice.
Juan put a bullet right between Hector’s eyes, and Mateo never flinched. At least the boy was learning to compartmentalize.
He pointed to Hector’s second in command. “You are now in charge. You see what happens when you cross us?”
The man nodded, unable to take his eyes off his friend.
“As a token of our goodwill, I’ve brought you a gift.” He pointed to Mona. “She thinks she can cross us as well. She’s nothing more than a puta. Show her what it means to be one of our whores then deliver her back to her home. Keep her for a few days if you want, and make sure everyone gets a taste.”
The new leader of this particular sect of Los Muertos stood. “Gracias, Señor Ramirez. We won’t let you down, and we thank you for the gift.”
“Death will meet you if you let us down again.”
Juan collected the whore he’d taken a liking to and escorted her and the boy out while Mona’s screams began. He smiled once he settled himself in the car. He leaned back and relaxed, his hand gripping his new whore’s hair as she bent down and went to work on his cock.
All in all, a good day’s work.
Kade yawned and let his office chair recline. He’d been working to get the office for Kincaid Security & Investigations up and running for the last three weeks. His little brother, Mason, finally managed to get the computer systems installed and all the programs working. The security system had been a nightmare of its own. The entire brownstone that housed the business needed to be rewired to meet code and handle the new computer and security systems.
And he’d been dealing with this by himself. Viktor was off on a pro-bono case for a friend of their brother, Dimitri. Not that Kade begrudged Viktor. The woman needed help. Her soon to be ex-husband beat her and then moved to their daughter. Kade despised men who turned their fists on helpless women and children. He would have done it himself for free if Dimitri reached him first.
His phone chirped, and he glanced at it. His wife’s smiling face stared back. Angel always brightened his day, but right now he wasn’t up for talking to her. She’d been harassing him to go back to Miami so she could get some closure in her brother’s death. His mother and grandmother ordered him to take his wife there so they could get remarried and put their past behind them.
He snorted. All the women in his life seemed to want to order him around and expected he’d obey without a fight. He’d do whatever he damned well pleased.
Dylan Jenkins, who was a whiz at finding information, stuck his head in. “You got a minute?”
Kade sighed and sat up. A nap would have been so nice. The big man came in and settled himself into one of the two chairs opposite Kade. It was almost comical. Dylan stood about six feet five or so, and he dwarfed the c
hair. His blond hair and ice blue eyes reminded Kade of some of the serial killers he’d dealt with in his time with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. The man’s eyes were always so cold. Viktor assured him he could be trusted, but something about him bothered Kade. He just couldn’t put his finger on what.
He held up a plain yellow folder. “I have some information for you.”
Kade’s spine stiffened and he leaned forward, eager but cautious of what news Dylan brought him. He’d asked the man to look into the cartel, specifically whether he was still on their radar. “Well?”
“It’s not what you want to hear.” Those piercing blue eyes turned colder, if that was possible. “You’re still high up on their hit list.”
“That makes no sense. They could have taken me out many times over the years…” He trailed off at the hard shake of Dylan’s head.
“The cartel never forgets. They’ve been busy expanding their reach, which now includes New York. Before, they were told to watch for you if you set foot back in Miami. Now, they are actively looking for you. I’d say stepping outside your apartment right now is a risk. Going to Miami?” Dylan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That would be a death sentence.”
Fuck. Angel needed to go say goodbye to her brother. How was he supposed to tell her that wouldn’t be happening any time soon? He was in for a shit storm when he got home.
“They have people in New York, you said?” Kade glanced down at his phone. Angel was calling again. He let it go to voicemail. This conversation was too important to disrupt.
Dylan nodded, flipping the file open. “I did an in-depth investigation. The cartel started out in Miami in 1976. Very small, very elite. They stayed quiet up until around the early nineties, when they started to show off their power in force. Not long after that, they were the number one cartel in the south. These guys migrated up from Central America, Kade. They mean business.”
“I know. I was embedded in their organization undercover for over a year.”
“No, man. What you saw was like someone window shopping. You think you see the best stuff in the window displays, but really, all the good shit is in the back, just waiting for the rich people to flood in.”
