Page 16 of Dark Reunion

“Is this for you or for my father?”

“Me.”

“Then go ahead,” Dean said, curiosity piqued.

“You don’t want to be here.” Dean looked at the man walking beside him and wanted to say something completely sarcastic but chose to remain quiet and see where this was heading. “I’d like to know why?”

Dean stopped walking and Ricco took an extra stride and then turned and looked at him. “Is this a serious question?”

“Yes. I grew up in the area, very poor. Since coming to work for Mr. Ramírez, I have a steady job, able to provide for my family, and we are protected by the large army he acquired. As the next in line to take over you would hold immense power. I guess I don’t understand why you hate it here so much.”

“Ricco, is your father still alive?” His body stiffened, and he was slow to answer.

“Yes.”

“Did he ever beat you growing up?”

“No.”

“Did he force you to kill anyone for fun?”

“Well…no.”

“Did he ever force you to rape a woman while her husband watched and then made you shoot her in the head?”

Ricco swallowed, eyes large.

“I’m going to take the shocked expression as no. Unfortunately, my father was and is a psycho. I’m sure you’re aware of the things he does, and just because I’m his son, doesn’t mean I’m like him. So, no…I have no interest in being back here, and I have no interest in my father’s sick fantasies being pushed onto my children. Understand?”

Dean stepped into Ricco’s personal space and stared into his eyes. He seemed to be a decent man, one with morals despite his time here. That was rare, and Dean filed the information away. “I’m going to be completely honest with you. If Carlos tries anything like that with my children or my wife…then I’d suggest staying out of my way, or I will slit your throat right along with his. Understood?”

“Yes,” he answered.

Done with this conversation, Dean walked away and wasn’t surprised when Ricco chose to stay a couple strides behind.

He expected more guards posted outside Carlos’s office upon arrival. Instead, the corridor was empty. No footsteps. No shadows shifting.

“I’ll leave you to meet with the El Chapo alone,” Ricco said, walking away. Dean glared at his receding back, unease prickling his spine.

The office door stood ajar, voices drifting through.

“The American soldiers have been deployed,” Carlos’s voice said smoothly in Spanish, laced with satisfaction. “The Alvarez warehouse will be nothing but ash by morning. Is that a significant enough of a test for you?” Carlos paused and Dean wished he could hear the other end of the conversation. “Where did you hear the name, the Righteous?”

Dean froze. The words slammed into him as solidly as a punch.

The Righteous.

His blood iced. His stomach dropped. Quietly, he pushed the door wider. Carlos stood at the desk, phone pressed to his ear, sunlight striping across his immaculate suit.

“I see. Yes, the name is correct, and they are quite the weapon. What do you say Francisco, do we have a deal?” A pause. “They are not a toy for you to try. You either want my services and protection, or you do not. You have twenty-four hours to decide.”

Dean’s hand curled into a fist. He shoved the door all the way open, the bang of the door loud enough to get his father’s attention.

Carlos glanced up, met his glare, and smiled. “Twenty-four and not a minute more.” Carlos hung up with deliberate leisure.

Dean stepped inside, every muscle coiled. “What the hell did you just say?”

Carlos tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Ah, Mercurio. Always storming around like you did as a child. Sit. I’ll explain.”