Page 29 of Chris

Gian checked his phone, unbothered about their current circumstances. “Your mother has been messaging me all day.”

“Worried, I bet.”

“No, she wanted me to bring her back a special treat she likes here. I’ll grab it before I head for the jet tomorrow morning.”

Chris rolled his eyes.

Typical.

His father spoiled his wife to the ends of the earth and back. All his mother had to do was speak, and she would have whatever she wanted in the blink of an eye. No questions asked. Gian had made sure his sons understood that nothing less was acceptable for their mother, and he expected them to treat their future wives, or spouses, in his twin’s case, with the same respect.

A pair of headlights flashed at the end of the street, and a black car crawled to them. The guards all around them shifted their positions, letting Chris know the vehicle was theirs. Once the town car stopped at the curb, Chris didn’t bother to wait for the driver to get out and open his father’s door for him.

Chris did it for Gian.

“Ah, good, I didn’t miss the two of you leaving,” came a voice from behind.

Chris kept one hand on the back passenger door, ready to close his father inside the vehicle should he need to, as he turned to greet the approaching man. Jorge slipped through the slight opening in the gate, his smile friendly as he nodded to Gian in the car.

“I look forward to working with you, amigo,” Jorge said.

Gian replied in kind. “And you, as well.”

Jorge came close enough to clap a hand on Chris’s shoulder, grabbing tightly when he added, “And I am sure your son here can take care of all the details you need, but I will keep you informed in the meantime.”

“Perfetto.”

“Have a good night, Gian, and a safe flight tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” his father replied.

Gian gave Chris a glance, and so, he closed his father inside the vehicle. Jorge had let go of Chris’s shoulder, but when he moved to round the vehicle and get in his side, the man blocked his path.

Jorge’s smile dissipated. In its place rested a blank mask, and cold eyes. He stared Chris down like he meant for it to be intimidating, but it was merely annoying. Not that he showed it.

“Yes?” Chris asked. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Jorge’s lips quirked up at the edges.

A hint of a smile.

It wasn’t kind, though.

No, it kind of felt threatening.

“There is,” Jorge said.

“Do tell.”

Chris didn’t wonder what people saw in Jorge Lòpez. He didn’t assume what the man had done, or was capable of, that made people terrified of him. Hell, his family had control of a good thirty percent of Mexico—from small businesses, to entire towns, and even the goddamn government.

No one became that powerful by being nice or playing fair. This man had spilled a lot of blood to get here and would spill as much as he needed to get whatever he still wanted to go.

That, primarily, was what made Jorge more dangerous than people could understand. His unstable mindset, his uncaring attitude, and his willingness to be irrational to get what he wanted made him tricky to deal with. Chris needed to consider all those things on this job, or it would be his life that ended before his time was up.

Chris understood fine and well why he should be afraid of this man, and yet, he still figured … Jorge Lòpez was just a man. Another man in this criminal world of theirs with a big fucking ego, and a gun to match it. And like all men who assumed they couldn’t be beat; it only took the right man coming up against him to get it done.

Chris would be that man.