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"In my world, Doc, we only chop off balls to get a point across," he told me, tucking the puppy under his arm, giving Marco a nod, then moving toward the door. "You and me, lil' mama," he said, turning back in the doorway. "We're good. For now. Don't make me regret going easy on you, yeah?" he told me.
And just like that, he was walking down the hallway toward the front desk.
"Andi, we were going to..." Finn started, coming in from the back door, getting one good look at me, even through his hungover-heavy eyes, and cursing under his breath. "Get back in the room. I'll get Pagan."
I didn't need to be told twice.
So I got back in my room, shut, and locked the door.
Then waited.
And waited.
And waited.
"Andi," Niro's voice said, soft, reassuring.
I practically flew at the door, fumbling with the lock, pulling it open.
"He has tattoos. And this distinctive ring. And he seems like he's staying in Navesink Bank. Oh, and he has ten dogs. And—"
"Alright," Niro said, holding up a hand. "Okay. We will get to that. Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"
"I'm fine. He, ah, he just kind of said we are good now, but not to make him regret his decision."
"Okay," Niro said, grabbing me, pulling me close, then tucking me under his arm. "I want to know how the fuck they got in."
"With an appointment," Pagan said, sighing. "We checked the schedule for the next two weeks before we let her come back here. This bastard had a standing appointment from five days ago."
"A flag didn't go up?"
"He put his name down as Aaron Smith," Pagan said, scoffing.
"And when he showed up looking like the bastard we were looking for?" Fallon asked, appearing out of nowhere.
"Are we supposed to profile every Latin man in the town?" Finn asked, not shrinking down in the face of his brother's disapproval. "Should we go question Antonio at the taco truck while we're at it? Donny at the garage?"
"It's fine," I insisted. "I'm fine. And he just wanted to talk."
"He wanted to prove that he can get to any of our loved ones or us whenever he wants to," Fallon corrected.
"Except now we know more about him," Finn insisted. "We even have him on the cameras.
"And Andi has some information to share," Niro added, giving me a squeeze.
"Yeah?" Fallon asked, looking over at me with a condescending sort of arrogance that made it seem like he didn't believe I had anything of worth to share. "Like what?" he asked as the door opened and more of the OG Henchmen made their way in.
"I think the hand tattoo was significant. I mean, who gets letters on their hand if it doesn't stand for something, right?" I asked.
"What'd he have?" Adler, one of the older guys, asked. He'd been someone who floated around a lot before deciding to "retire" into something "low-key" like an outlaw biker club.
"It was an A and a C."
"In that order," Adler clarified.
"Yes. And if it helps at all, they looked like this," I said, grabbing a folder and a pen, scribbling. I was no artist, but I got the basics right. "In black," I added.
"What? Look familiar?" Fallon asked Adler.
"I'll have to confirm it with the experts up at Hailstorm, but this looks like the Alcazar Cartel," he explained.
"What level of worried should we be?" Fallon asked.
"The Alcazar Cartel used to be part of the Soto Cartel. They were a big player back when you were getting the first stirrings in yer boxers," Adler added, noting Fallon's confusion. "They were out in the Southwest and into Mexico."
"Heroin?"
"Yeah. But the Sotos were disorganized as fuck. Four brothers as the lieutenants who were always puffing chests to see who would be the next Drug Lord. Meanwhile no one could seem to get control over the hitmen, so they were killing for the fuck of it."
"Who might A be then?" I asked, finding myself more fascinated than I should have. But, well, I'd grown up in a town with bikers and paramilitary and the mafia and loan sharks, so I knew about how all those organizations ran, but cartels were new for me.
"Alcazar, obviously," Adler said. "Last I heard about the Sotos, one of their Falcons, that's the lowest member in the hierarchy," he explained when everyone drew a blank. "They're the eyes and ears of the cartel. Anyway, one of 'em got sick of the shite, and rose up, took all their arses out. He took the money, some of his street buddies, and started his own organization."
"So, back to the how concerned we should be question," Fallon said.
"Depends on what he wants," Adler said. "He's a vicious bastard. He won't let anyone get in his way. But if all he wants is the H trade in the area, and we don't get in his way, seems like he will let us do our thing while he does his," he said, waving toward me. "She wouldn't be alive if he was looking to make a move."
