I chuckle. Cold as ice…her voice hadn’t even trembled. Hands steady as shit.
It was only when she’d faced the reality of it all that she’d crumbled. And that’s not surprising. The woman wasn’t born into this. And though I happily gave her the tools to survive it, I’ll be damned if I let her get into another situation like that. Just as soon as I’ve cleared up this shitstorm, I’m going to get back there and prove to her that she’s safe with me. Convince her to stay. I can be better for her. Iwillbe.
“Everything okay back there, bro?” Raoul asks, eyes flicking at me in the rearview mirror.
“Hundred percent. Just trying to sort out this motherfucking gift wrapping,” I grumble.
“Take a look behind the seat. Got vests back there and some gear. You’ll wanna get tooled up when we get there,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road. The scenery’s changing outside. Shifting from suburbs to warehousing as we cruise into an industrial zone on the outskirts of town. I turn to peer into the back of the vehicle, running an eye over the contents.
Seems Raoul’s scaling up for an all-out war. After I extract enough body armor for the three of us, I take a quick stock. Rows of rifles are stacked alongside half a dozen handguns, boxes of ammo, and a fucking grenade launcher.
“RPG, bro?” I say to him, shaking my head. The kid’s a hothead.
“For sure! And I call dibs,” he replies.
“Jesus Christ,” Mateo mutters. He’s unbuckled his seatbelt and is strapping a vest on awkwardly within the confines of the front seat.
“What the matter, ‘Teo?” Raoul asks. “Jealous that I didn’t bring one for you? There’s not enough room in the trunk.”
“This is all wrong,” Mateo goes on. I frown.What the fuck is his problem?He cranes his neck to look round at me. “Are you sure you want to do this, Dario?” he asks.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snap.
“I’m just…” He pauses, seeming to collect his thoughts. “Do you really want to get your hands dirty, Dario?”
I shake my head. Is the man defying my orders? He must have a goddamn death wish.
“What kind of shit are you on, dog?” Raoul interrupts. “We’re committed. This thing is going down. Tonight!”
“I get that,” Mateo responds. “But Dario… you’ve kept yourself clean all these years, man. Do you want to fuck that up now? Maybe we should be reaching out to the cops…the Feds. I just think—”
“The Feds?” Raoul scoffs. “What the fuck, Mateo? You some kinda rat or something?” He’s laughing as he says it.
“Screw you,” Mateo grumbles, staring straight ahead. Raoul’s easy banter has been replaced by grim focus as we glide into a sprawling industrial park. Narrow roads are lined by dark warehouses, all abandoned now in the early hours of the morning. Raoul slides into a dark alley between two huge, silent buildings and cuts the engine.
The three of us alight silently, moving around to the trunk and delving into Raoul’s deadly treasure trove. My own piece is already tucked into the back of my pants, but I pick out an assault rifle and pack several spare mags into the front pockets of my bullet-proof vest. Mateo has selected similarly, silently hefting the weight of the semi-automatic rifle.
“Come to Papa,” Raoul is crooning, reaching in for the grenade launcher.
“For fuck’s sakes, Raoul,” I grind out under my breath. “Put that fucking thing back and choose a weapon like you’re not goddamn Rambo.”
Raoul scowls. “I’m not here to take prisoners, bro,” he replies, but puts the thing back and reaches for a pair of machine pistols, grinning like Mad fucking Max.“These will do the trick, though. That fucker’s gonna get what’s coming to him, one way or another. Eduardo’s dead meat.”
Chapter 14
Dario Caraldi
Idon’t need to tell either of them to stay silent as we set our plan in motion. The rest of the team is on standby, set to descend from the opposite direction when the time comes. Meanwhile, Raoul and I move like ghosts, slipping through the shadows until we hear voices ahead. Mateo is still with the vehicle, waiting for the signal for him to come in like the cavalry once we’ve picked off the principles. Namely, my cousin and my uncle and whatever scum-bucket they’re trading with.
Several shipping containers have been offloaded in a yard between two large warehouses and a number of men are moving between them. Some are talking among themselves, small embers glowing as smokes are lit and shared. Others are clearly on sentry duty, heavy rifles in hand, eyes moving around the area.
As we reach the outskirts of their dimly lit circle, I trail a look around the space, taking in how many of them are there, how they’re armed. Calculating risks. We won’t go in until the rendezvous occurs and we have them all in one place.
A low hiss draws my attention to where Raoul is lurking nearby. He taps his eye, then points past a container, and I see a couple of cars parked behind them. Eduardo’s Mercedes G-Wagon is unmistakable. Alongside it is a gray Lexus I don’t recognize. But my uncle’s black Maybach is conspicuously absent. Of course, there’s always the chance that he came in with my cousin. But that’s unlikely. Eduardo Senior is renowned for never getting into another man’s car. Convinced he’ll be taken on a “one-way ride” or some shit. Even his own son isn’t above suspicion. Frankly, I don’t blame him. Eduardo Junior is a piece of shit. And he’s a piece of shit who’s just stepped out of the warehouse and is moving into my line of sight, speaking in hushed tones to a towering giant of a man.
I see Raoul poised to take out one of the sentries, but a hand gesture from me has him easing back. We’ve gone over this already. Nothing goes down until all the players are on the field. And my uncle is not here.
I stay flattened against the dark side of a building, casting an eye along the skyline that’s beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn. Pretty soon, it’ll be light enough to see out here, and that would be bad. I’m pretty certain we’re facing an army, and darkness will be our friend.
