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“So the fuck what?” our father hissed. “I don’t give a shit about their intent. We will not suffer any losses because of pigs.”
Miguel and I glanced at each other. We both knew to allow our father to rant. That calmed his nerves where arguing would only bring out a barrage of brutality.
“You seem to know who these assholes are, brother,” Miguel said. “Who runs the organization?”
The term organization was used loosely. What little I’d learned had highlighted that the monster in charge was known for his savagery, not his business acumen. The cartel was still little more than a gang of hotheads, although they’d gained traction over the years, carrying more weight and power in Mexico than any other syndicate. The leader’s refusal to follow any sense of respect or the unwritten codes other syndicates embodied made him that much more dangerous, even for a structured and highly skilled syndicate such as ours. “His name is Rico Garcia. He rose to power after his father and mother had been slaughtered by his older brother, forcing the youngest member of the family to watch. In retaliation, he strung his brother up by a rope, allowing the lions his father had kept as pets to devour the man alive.”
Whether or not the story was true, I couldn’t care less. There was no one alive that could instill fear within me.
“From what I’ve read, a real nice guy,” Miguel chortled. “Let me guess. The experience allowed him a taste for blood.”
“From what I’ve heard you are correct. Plus, he developed a following from the men who served prison terms alongside his father. After seven prison breaks and a coordinated attack, Mexico experienced the worst day of violent crime they’d seen in decades. The New Generation and Mr. Garcia had basically been in control of the entire country ever since. Not that the government will admit to it.” I glanced at my father to ensure he realized what we were up against.
“How do you want to handle this Garcia asshole, other than head on with the same level of violence?”
I’d been thinking about this for a long time. “We find his greatest weakness. Every man, no matter what life he’s chosen to live, has one.”
“You certainly don’t,” Miguel teased. While he meant no harm, I came close to punching him. He knew what I’d been through. He’d been there, the first person I’d called after the tragedy.
I threw him a hard look, sparing him my wrath. “We’re not talking about my life, are we?”
He said nothing at first, heading to the bar and grabbing a glass with one hand, a decanter of scotch with the other. The fact he was thoughtful meant he did understand.
I exhaled, noticing Andres was watching our interaction, realizing that whatever the outcome of this meeting, the decision would place an additional weight on his shoulders. Thankfully, the gunshot had done little more than graze his shoulder. While he was currently wearing a sling, I knew that wouldn’t last for long. The man had been shot more times than I had, considered tough as nails.
I lost a good soldier during the incident at the factory. While his family would be well taken care of, the loss was significant. It was never easy to lose one of our own. Yes, every man did have a weakness. Perhaps mine was that I cared about my family and would protect them against all odds, acting on my need to satisfy vengeance without hesitation.
“The man is nothing but a savage,” Pops said as if he knew Rico personally. “So what do you plan on doing, son? Please tell me you do have a plan.”
Miguel lifted his eyebrows, smirking before taking a sip of his drink.
“Andres,” I started. “Put out word on the streets and over the internet that we will not tolerate this kind of behavior. Let anyone know who pays attention that every airport, train station, bus station, and port will be monitored. No one will be coming or going out without our authorization. If they dare try to escape, their families and friends will be hunted down and slaughtered. And Andres, put out the word that the person providing quality information will be given a hefty reward.” I turned my head to ensure he realized what I was saying. “Also put out a statement that if anyone knows or discovers something Rico can’t live without, I will also provide them with the key to the city. I don’t care if it’s his mother or sister or a goddamn yacht.”
“Whew,” Miguel said under his breath. “This shit bothered you.”
“Yeah, it did. Did you catch what I said, Andres?” I shifted my head in my lieutenant’s direction.
“You got it, boss. Don’t worry. I’m a damn good tracker.”
“You’re just like your grandfather,” Pops told me. “That’s exactly what needs to happen.” He brought his drink closer, studying my eyes. “So you are aware, the Brotherhood is in town. They are willing to meet with you. Before you say it’s bad timing, they may be able to provide assistance in our endeavor. We need to wipe this son of a bitch off the face of the earth quickly.”
I felt my jaw clench, but I nodded. “Fine. I’ll take a few minutes and have a conversation with them.” Although I wouldn’t promise anything. I didn’t need help.
After a few seconds he powered down most of his drink before clapping me on the shoulder. “Good man. Keep me informed.”
No one said anything as he thumped his glass on the bar, taking long strides out of the room. I laughed under my breath after his departure.
“The Brotherhood?” Miguel asked. “Is he kidding? Now?”
“Apparently not.”
The alliance of leaders of various syndicates had been formed years before, brought into existence to keep the peace and to provide assistance with certain precarious situations whenever necessary. “Yes, the Brotherhood. Seven of the most powerful men in our profession, dangerous in their own right. They consider themselves kings even if they are rivals in this perverted game of chess that we play.”
Miguel laughed. “I don’t see you fitting into this elite society.”
Andres laughed as well and I gave him the finger. “Nonsense. I clean up well.” The last thing I wanted was to be given advice from a bunch of control freaks who believed their shit didn’t stink. However, I would honor my father since he rarely asked for anything.
“How the hell did our father get involved with them?” Miguel pushed.
