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“But you love her.”
“I do. You’re dismissed, Lucas.”
He stands up and leaves the room—his shoulders slumped in defeat.
He’s too young and naive to fully understand this, much like Anna. Maybe that’s why she likes him so much. They both possess that same fragile innocence. Neither of them realizes the implications of her standing at my side. Such a fragile flower cannot survive the harsh conditions of the cartel. I managed to let her go once. I know I won’t be able to do it again. If she comes back here, it’s for good. She’ll always be in danger. Always be the weak point in my armor. And I’m so selfish, I won’t care as long as I have her.
It’s a fine line to walk, loving her, needing her, and yet constantly being at risk of losing her. Is it better to love and lose or to simply love and long from afar?
Samuel leans against the pickup, a cigarette pressed to his lips and a cloud of smoke billowing around him. When he sees me, he pushes away and tosses the cigarette to the ground sending little sparks skittering over the tarmac.
“Rafe, you don’t need to do this.”
We’ve already spoken about this. “I’m not sending you in alone, Sam.”
“I can take Carlos.”
I glance into the bed of the truck, eyeing the two rifles lying there and the box of ammunition.
“You know I wouldn’t do that either.” Dominges might see his men as nothing but soldiers, cannon fodder sent out to protect him, but I don’t. I wouldn’t ask Sam or Carlos to do anything I wouldn’t do myself. I won’t send them out just to protect myself.
He sighs. “Without you…”
“Without me, you or Carlos could step up and run this shit with your eyes closed. This isn’t a fucking birthright, Sam, and you know it.” My father was the boss before me, and that definitely helped the transition when it came to the men that were loyal to him, but that’s as far as it went. Running the cartel is about strength and loyalty. Plain and simple.
“I don’t fucking care about the cartel, Rafe. This shit is getting more and more dangerous by the day. It feels like it’s only a matter of time before someone finally manages to take you out.” His lips press together in a grim line. We’re guys, and we’re bad guys. We don’t talk about emotions, but I know what he wants to say because I feel exactly the same about him and Carlos. They’re my brothers in every way but blood. We’ve all lost a lot and suffered. We’ve fought together and clawed our way to this point. We’re bonded. But this is the life we’ve chosen, the risks we take. Until this point, we’ve been near enough invincible, the ruling cartel, completely uncontested. The idea that we may actually be in real danger doesn’t sit well with any of us.
I brush it off with a smirk. “Did you forget? I’m Rafael D’Cruze.”
He rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t mean you’re bulletproof, fucker.”
I pick up one of the rifles and check the sights. “Come on. Let’s go.”
We get out of the truck and cut through the darkness to the fence that surrounds the old, abandoned looking warehouse. I have a man inside the Sinaloa who told us that Miguel, Dominges brother is making a deal here tonight. That’s too good an opportunity to pass up, which means it could be a trap. Hence why it’s just Sam and me. We should be able to slip in and out undetected. In theory. The urge to deal a real emotional blow to Dominges over rides the risk. We make it through a hole in the fence before using the shadows to approach a back door.
Dropping to a crouch, Sam quickly fiddles the lock. Samuel, Carlos, and I learned fast how to pick a lock. By the time we were thirteen, we were stealing cars to order and breaking and entering like it was our right. Such is the way of impoverished kids in a cartel-run city. The door eases open and we both pause, waiting, listening. The door leads into a hallway that looks like a sectioned off office within the warehouse. I step inside, making sure my steps are slow and silent over the worn commercial carpet. The low hum of voices drifts from somewhere deep within the building.
At the end of the hall is a door on one side and a staircase on the other. We have two choices; go out into the warehouse or go up the stairs. He points up, so I go with it, climbing the stairs silently. The office at the top is empty, and the window up here gives a perfect view of the entire warehouse below. There’s a van, an SUV, and about five men standing between them, pouring over the contents of one of the metal crates. Inside the crates are racks of neatly lined up rifles. In another, there’s a 50. Cal heavy gun, and in another; grenades. I came here to kill Miguel, but I have no doubt that the Sinaloa are buying this shit to use against my cartel. Taking it off them won’t exactly be a hardship. I push one window open, and Samuel crosses the hall to the other office, doing the same. I stare down the sights, fixing Miguel in the crosshairs. He looks just like Dominges: slimy and smug with a layer of corruption that clings to him like the filthy individual he is. I smile as my finger brushes the trigger. I’ve taken a lot of Dominges’ good men from him in the last few weeks. Lieutenants, enforcers, sicarios. His own personal enforcer fell victim to a rogue car bomb just two days ago. I didn’t set that one, so it would seem he’s got more problems than just me.
