I shudder at the thought of spending one more second with him.
He’s a low-level thug.
A nobody.
A sorry-assed lackey who will die soon enough.
Men like him don’t last long. He’s my fifth handler this year.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the men in charge, it’s that they don’t do any favors. Asking for one will be a death sentence. I should encourage him to try, but knowing my luck, it’d be the one time they grant an allowance.
He ties a tourniquet around my arm.
I know the drill. There’s no use in fighting it.
My body craves the dope he injects into my veins.
Every time he does, I pray the dose will be fatal. Will end my miserable life.
I never get my wish.
The roar of motorcycles outside the gate means it’s nearly time.
I’m getting out of this godforsaken place.
After twelve years, I’m going home.
Returning stateside.
I’ve earned it, but there’s only one way I will ever truly be free.
Javi’s walkie-talkie crackles, and I take that as my cue to get into position. Hector loves to show off.
Money.
Cars.
Women.
He thinks he’s royalty.
His brother is even worse.
Jose tugs on the collar of his ridiculous silk shirt. Looking like he stepped off the set of a drug lord movie set in Miami.
The dope kicks in, but it’s only enough to keep me in line.
Functioning.
Tomorrow will be a different story.
I’ll be sick.
But that’s all part of Hector’s plan.
I stand around with the rest of his flock while he meets with Big Daddy, the president of Kings of Anarchy MC. I’ve spent the past three months studying files on him and his men.
Next to him sits his VP. A guy who goes by the road name Hero. He’s cute, but he’s involved with Big Daddy’s niece and he’s not my target.
