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“I didn’t catch your name,” Anna says to the woman.
She looks at Anna, then Ricardo, then Anna. “Rosa.” She makes it sound like a question.
Anna smiles, and that little thrum flitters through my chest. It’s that fucking purity that radiates from her. The simple need to ask a girl her name because she cares. She doesn’t belong here in this room with sordid criminals and cheap whores.
Sam clears his throat and instantly starts talking business. My attention is split between the conversation and Anna’s small hand on my thigh.
“You have something I want,” Ricardo says.
I snort. “No, I have something you need; the use of my port in La Paz. And you have nothing I want in return.”
Ricardo leans back in his seat, eyes narrowed even as a small smile covers his face. “Every man wants something, Rafael.”
Samuel laughs. “He has everything he wants.”
I brace my elbows on the table. “This is where you offer me something, a baited hook if you will.”
“I may have something…”
The wait staff bring plates of food to the table, and all talk of business pauses for a moment. Courses come and go. Liquor flows, though I only have two glasses. Ricardo has considerably more.
“I’m just going to the bathroom,” Anna whispers in my ear, pressing her lips to my cheek before she stands. I catch Carlos’ eye and nod at him to follow her. I don’t fucking trust Rosi’s men. I don’t particularly want to be in this house, but his offer to trade was not something I could pass up. Truthfully, he has something I want, but I’m not about to tell him that because it’s not something I think he’ll willingly give up. I need him desperate, ready to give me anything.
“Where did you buy that one from?” Ricardo leers, his eyes on Anna’s ass as she walks from the room.
“I’m starting to think you have a death wish, Ricardo.”
He throws his head back on a deep rumbling laugh. “Careful, Rafael. You’ll show a weakness. Such a fatal thing to men like us.”
My pulse is pounding against my temples. One flick of my finger and his men will be dead. I could put a bullet between his eyes before he even registered the carnage. The hard outline of my gun presses against my back, begging me to pull the trigger, to watch him bleed all over the pristine white tablecloth.
“There are three things a man should always respect: his God, his business, and his woman.” I stare at him. “And if another man disrespects this… well, such things are fatal to any man.”
He stares back at me for long moments. “Lets talk business.”
The tension in my spine eases somewhat, dissipating further when Anna retakes her seat beside me. I don’t like not having eyes on her with this many strangers in the house. I start to stand immediately. “We’ve established that you really have nothing to offer me. You want to run shipments through my port, which always carries great risk. The more blow I run through it, the more the DEA try to fuck me, as you know.”
He tips his head back. “What do you want? We both know you want something, or you wouldn’t have accepted my invite and wasted your time. Cut the bullshit.” I lift my glass to my lips and take a slow sip, enjoying his bristling impatience.
“Twenty percent.”
He lifts a brow. “You want twenty percent of the shipments. That’s ridiculous.”
“No, I want twenty percent of your entire business.”
He laughs. “You’ve gone loco, my friend.”
“Use of my port would see your business grow by forty percent in the next five years. So, even if you lose twenty, you’re still gaining twenty percent more than you currently have. That’s a huge growth rate.”
He narrows his eyes at me. Ricardo may be violent and blood-thirsty, but he’s just a glorified soldier. To hold his city he needs only fear. I have learned to be a businessman. Violence is not enough to hold a cartel because no matter how strong you are, there will always be someone more ruthless, with more men, more guns. I choose to have most of my battles like this, over a table with hard numbers and strategic deals.
He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “You want twenty percent of all my revenue.”
A smile pulls at the corners of my lips. “No. I just want one client who makes up twenty percent of your cocaine trade.” We both know that cocaine is not his entire business, but this isn’t about business. This is fucking personal.
His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Which client?”
“The Sinaloa.” Anna stiffens beside me, and I shift my arm along the back of her chair, threading my fingers through her hair at the base of her skull.
Ricardo’s expression morphs into an icy mask, and he shifts in his chair uncomfortably. “You want to take over their supply?”
