He keeps shifting from foot to foot, glancing around, wiping his hands on his pants as if he’s sweating through the fabric. A man who moves tons of narcotics through three states and bankrolls half the violence on the coast looks like he’s waiting for a margarita.
I reach back and untie Ryder’s wrists.
She flexes her hands once, rolling her shoulders as if she’s just finished a nap rather than several hours bound to a chair on my boat. There isn’t a shred of fear in her posture, only calculation and faint amusement.
“Go,” I tell her.
She strolls ahead of me like we’re walking into brunch.
Halfway there, she mutters something under her breath in Spanish.
“Idiota.”
The word is soft, fondly venomous, and clearly meant for her father.
I hear it anyway. A slow smile pulls at my mouth.
Hinto hears nothing. He only sees his child approaching and immediately grabs Ryder by the shoulders, scanning for injuries with frantic hands.
“You’re fine?” he demands.
She shrugs him off. “I told you not to underestimate him.” Their argument stays low and rapid, Spanish tangling between them like barbed wire.
I stop a few feet away and let them finish. This isn’t a rescue; it’s a lesson.
When Hinto finally looks at me, there’s murder in his eyes and relief he can’t hide. For a moment, I have a premonition. This is what my life will be like from here on out, with the child growing in Aly’s belly—with the world we’re bringing them into.
“You got what you wanted,” Hinto says, interrupting my thoughts.
“I did,” I agree calmly. “And you got what you wanted too.”
He spits near my shoes but doesn’t step closer. Smart.
I fold my hands behind my back and speak like we’re discussing shipping contracts instead of lives.
“I’m prepared to offer you something better than whatever stunt you tried to pull today.”
He narrows his eyes. “I’m not interested in charity.”
“It isn’t charity. It’s business. And a way to hold you accountable.”
Liev shifts beside me, still simmering, but he stays quiet. This isn’t something I’ve run by him or any of myAvtoritety,which I should have done. Those men leading my soldiers need to know what is coming.
But I don’t take orders. I give them.
“You can rent four of my ports,” I continue. “Long-term access. Legitimate cargo. Customs paperwork that doesn’t magically disappear. Protection.”
Hinto’s jaw tightens. He knows what my ports are worth.
“No drugs,” I add. “Not through my water. You want product, you find something else to move. Electronics. Luxury imports. Machinery. I don’t care. But narcotics stay off my routes.”
He studies me for a long moment, clearly doing the math. Cleaner trade means less heat. Less federal attention. More money. And a truce, or close enough to one that we won’t both be looking over our shoulders at every turn.
“You think you can leash me,” he says.
“I think you like profit more than chaos. And I think you’ve realized what I’m willing to do to protect my own.”
Silence stretches between us.
