“I’m on it, boss,” says Vincent.
I nod. It’s an odd world when this eighteen-year-old boy, whose voice has barely dropped, is the only one I can count on. But, after all, he’s Gabriel’s nephew. He knows Angel better thanwe do.
“It’s unlikely they went to any known location,” I say, cracking my knuckles.
He coughs. “On the contrary. I don’t think they would hide from us.”
I glance at him sharply. “They must be terrified of Devil. They can’t possibly hope to go up against us.”
There’s another cough, this time from Logan. He slides a magazine toward me uncertainly.
I look down, confused, at the Forbes magazine. A page has been earmarked, and I flip to it, on automation, as the memory of what Logan told me during our last meeting, the one just before my world turned upside down, fills my stomach with lead.
Angel: Tomorrow’s Billionaires.
Aaron Garcia, Noel Zapata, Gabriel Murrillo, Elias Cortes: These are the names of the four businessmen who make up Angel, the fastest-rising organization in the country.
They’re an investment company behind a number of startups in the tech industry. At this point, Silicon Valley could be renamed Angel Valley—and at my joking suggestion, Gabriel Murrillo nods soberly.
“We’ve thought about it,” he says, without a trace of humor.
Unlike their predecessors, Devil, Angel doesn’t have a jokester in its midst. I’m mildly uncomfortable as I face the company’s four incredibly attractive leaders—one might even call them angelic, but that might be too on the nose for yours truly—who peer down at me quietly, their entire attention fixed on me like this interview is the only thing that matters to them.
And unlike Devil, which might only vaguely ring a bell if you’ve lived on the East Coast for the past five years, pretty much everyone has heard of Angel—and if you haven’t, that’s about to change. Their rise is absolutely meteoric. Not content to own a few department stores and fund several blockbustermovies like their rival, Angel has its hands in practically every pie in the country. It’s hard to know just where their money is coming from, but one thing’s for sure: they’ve got a whole lot of it.
I slam down the magazine, not bothering to finish the article. I’ve read enough.
“What the fuck?” I growl. “Last time I checked, they were a lowly band of criminals. Now they’ve got a feature in Forbes?”
“We were once lowly criminals too,” comments Logan drily, before growing red as I turn flashing eyes toward him. “Don’t worry, Damien. Devil will come out on top. We always do.”
“Fuck off,” I spit. Somehow, this new thing he’s doing of sucking up to me and sugarcoating everything makes his betrayal feel ten times worse. I want to strangle him. He used to be a brother to me, but ever since I pointed a gun at him, he’s turned into a sniveling kiss-ass. He can’t even accept his fate like a man. It feels like I lose his friendship all over again every time he opens his goddamn mouth.
“Right,” he mutters, and the only reason I don’t bash his head in right then and there is my own lack of energy.
I haven’t had the slightest speck of energy since my pet died. The only thing keeping me upright is my need for vengeance.
I turn back to Vincent. “If they’re not hiding,” I grunt, “then where are they?”
He lifts his head slowly from his phone, where he has apparently been busy tracking his uncle’s movement.
“Gabriel’s private jet just set down in Bogota, Columbia.”
I snort. “A whole lot of money, huh? The guy’s just a glorified drug dealer.”
“They took a helicopter to their compound in the heart of the Amazon jungle,” adds Vincent.
“What do you want to do?” asks Logan quietly.
“Do? Let’s fucking go. Let’s burn their business to the ground,and Angel with it.”
__
“We’ll be arriving shortly, sir,” says the quiet voice of the stewardess, handing me a heavy backpack.
I look up at the young woman. She’s beautiful in a very banal way. I can tell she’s never had a hard day in her life: she peers down at me a little nervously, her eyes blue, her lips luscious, her dress too tight and cinched around her waist in a way that draws the eye to her bosom. She gives me a big smile, flashing her perfectly white teeth at me.
I feel an irresistible desire to bash every one of her pretty teeth in, to make her look as ugly as I feel.
