“You assume I’m still hanging on to all that.”
“Aren’t you, though?”
“For feck’s sake, Alejandro, I don’t care about what happened nearly ten years ago. I just dislike you because you’re a piece of shite.”
“No, you still care because you peaked back in college and haven’t come up with a creative idea since then. You’re pissed I’m way wealthier than you will ever be.”
Pablo redirects the conversation before it can fully deteriorate into a pissing match.
“Dillan, you have a choice. Get the hit called off, or we’ll start supporting the bratva in this little war of yours. Not only will we funnel money to them, but we’ll also make it look like you’re responsible for shit going wrong for the Mancinellis. Do you really want three against one right now? Can you afford to fight a war on that many fronts?”
Dillan knows his family’s limitations, just like we do. Two against one is still doable. But if three out of the Four Families are against him, then they’re all fucked beyond belief. There’s no way they can hold their own when all three of us are after them. He’s too shrewd to allow his ego to get the better of him for this.
“We didn’t cause any of this, Pablo. So if—and that’s a very motherfecking big if—we can help you out, you fecking owe us.”
“The only thing we’ll owe you is not cleaning out every account you have in your little offshore enterprise. Get this taken care of, Dillan, and maybe we won’t blow up any more of your shit.”
All the O’Rourkes know we mean the labs they have in the Amazon. We allow the other three families to have three labs each. Any more than that is pushing our graciousness to the limit. If they fuck around right now, they’ll find out that we’ll take itallfrom them. Not a single lab will remain, and they’ll never get another.
The meeting ends, and my family follows the O’Rourkes downstairs.Tres J’sescorts them to the door. They’ve just walked outside when flames leap into the air and shrapnel from their SUV pummels the building. Guns are drawn before any of us know what’s happening. Instinct demands all of us prepare to defend our respective families.
Call it PTSD or a trauma response from nearly being blown up twice, but I’m ready to shoot, then ask questions. The O’Rourkes, with their men who waited outside, burst back into the strip club. The shootout in the parking lot was bad enough, but this is an even more confined space. Fortunately, we’re meeting here during the few hours the club is closed.
“Diaz!”
Dillan’s voice is close enough to me that I pivot on my toes from where I squat behind a booth.
“You fecking trapped us. You know these sit-downs are supposed to be neutral.”
“You stupid piece of shit. We didn’t do this. Why would we blow up your vehicle right by our building?”
I yell my thoughts before anyone else can answer Dillan. He points his gun directly at me, but neither of us pulls the trigger. It’s unfortunate for the men who work for both ruling families. They’re our targets. While all’s fair in a situation like this, no one inlos Diazor the O’Rourkes will aim for the leaders. If we get injured in the crossfire, that’s on us. Dillan and I don’t lower our guns but shift our attention to guards who are fair game.
The situation intensifies as more Diaz men stream into the building, boxing in the O’Rourkes. It doesn’t make Dillan and his family reckless out of desperation. Just the opposite. Joaquin tries to call off our men and send them back, hoping to de-escalate the situation that’s rapidly growing out of control.
Glass shattering turns my head toward the bar as one bottle after another falls from the shelves. That anyone who’s targeting the booze over a man grabs everyone’s attention enough to cause a ceasefire. My heart drops to my toes as I watch Vita shooting at the bottles with her right hand while her left has a handgun pointed to the crowd. She’s watching where she’s aiming into the crowd rather than at the bar.
“Enough!I saw who did it. It wasn’t Diaz or O’Rourke men.”
I lower my weapon as I bolt to her. She clicks the safety back on both of her weapons, pointing them at the floor. I position myself in front of her as a shield in case someone loses their fucking mind and believes she’s fair game.
“Jandro, I saw it all. I tried to get to you, but your guard wouldn’t let me out of the office. I tried my best, but the guy’s a behemoth. He didn’t flinch when I punched him in the face or the gut. It was only my foot to hishuevosthat finally got him out of my way. He wouldn’t believe me when I said it was an emergency and that I knew what happened. I get he was doing his job, but I could’ve prevented this fuckstorm.”
Men from my family and the O’Rourkes tentatively draw closer.
“Jandro, we have a big fucking problem. You need to see what I did.”
The dread in her expression and voice alarms me more than the shootout itself. It’s wall to wall as six O’Rourkes and five Diaz men along with Vita crowd into the office as I play back the CCTV from outside the building.
A man emerges from a vehicle parked facing the O’Rourke SUV. He takes out the three men standing guard with a gun that has a silencer. Then he opens a duffel bag and pulls out what we all recognize as an explosive device. He disappears from the camera for a moment, and we can all guess he slipped underneath the SUV. When he reappears, Vita reaches for the remote in my hand and hits the pause button.
“Jandro, I know exactly who that is.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Look at him closely. Do you recognize him?”
Something tickles my memory telling me I should, but I can’t place him.
