“He’s too fucking gullible. Listens to whatever Yusef Antonov tells him. That moron believes any promise he hears.”
“Is he a participant in Antonov’s plans?” I asked. I needed ayesorno. Definitively. Carina said the truck that was used in the ambush was one from the Cartel’s fleet. That alone indicated they were working together.
“Yusef Antonov isn’t trying to workwithany of the Cartels. He’s trying to mess with them all and dictate territorial rights over the whole fucking region.” He groaned as he listed to the side. “That’s all I fucking know. Go on. Kill me.”
“Is Arturo Garcia a supporter of this regime change? To ally with Yusef Antonov?” It seemed so silly to assume Arturo could just be so stupid and gullible as to wind up in a bad situation. He’d told Carina he had been looking into a new partner. And this tracked.
The man nodded. “He isn’t trying to stop him,” he reasoned.
I looked back at my cousins.
That settled it.
I’d heard enough.
If Arturo wasn’t going to stand up to a third-party influence who was targeting all Cartels in the region, then he wasn’t an ally of ours.
I turned, done with this man.
Pausing at the door, I leaned in close to whisper into Markus’s ear.
“Get whatever else you can from him. About the truck they used, how they were approached and where, and the payments for this job.”
He gave me one stiff nod.
I looked at my cousins with a silent expectation that they would leave with me.
As we filed out of the room, it seemed like every step I took was one more through quicksand.
Because that was what the burden of needing to kill my brother-in-law felt like—wading through the dread of how she’d interpret my actions. All due to the conflict of her wanting to hold on to her past and not fully embrace the future withme.
26
CARINA
Maksim was a strong man, both in mind and body. He was a fighter, a killer, and a protector. Yesterday, he showed me how he was all three of those at once, unafraid to risk himself and put all his efforts into slaying any threat.
Although I recognized how tough he was, I assumed when we went to bed that he would take it easy for one day.
Maybe half of one.
Or at least a morning.
Recovery was mandated after injuries. While he was a stubborn man who wanted to solve problems and address challenges head-on, I truly thought that he’d be in bed with me when I woke up the day after that failed last-minute smuggling request that had been concocted as a way to test my brother’s intentions.
I rolled over, finding the other side of the bed empty.
I put my hand out and found the sheets cool, too.
He must have gotten up earlier than usual.
I smirked.
So much for him taking it easy.
As I lay back and stared at the ceiling, yawning while the last threads of sleep vanished from my mind, I reminded myselfwhyhe likely wouldn’t have wanted to sleep in at all.
No wonder he got up so early.
