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“I assume everything was taken care of?” I fussed with the items on my desk, all new since I broke just about everything I could get my hands on during my many furious bursts of rage when Miri was missing. The pencil holder was wrong and I just couldn’t seem to make it square with the corner of the desk. None of my stuff looked right. It was pissing me off.
“All done, Boss. No one will ever find him,” George assured me.
“Good.”
I unsuccessfully attempted to line up the pencil holder one last time to no avail. Growling, I picked it up and dropped it in the trash. Now my hands were itching for something else to do. So I fussed at my shirtsleeves, straightening the cuffs and double-checking the cuff links to make sure they were fastened.
“How is the search for El Cuchillo going?” In my peripheral vision, I caught George flinching. My eyes flicked to my new second in command—soon to be under Brick’s employ—and were met with a worried expression.
“Not good, Boss.” George tried to stand tall and unaffected, but his body language screamed nervousness. He was waiting for me to lose my shit.
“I see.?
? George had good instincts. I did want to lose my shit. Miri would never be one hundred percent safe until that motherfucker was either six feet under or chopped up and used for chum, digesting in a shark’s belly.
“Feyo said maybe expand the search to Mexico. He said he knows El Cuchillo’s hometown. He might be hiding there.” George shifted from foot to foot. He needed to grow a bigger spine if he wanted to survive under Brick’s heavy hand.
Or maybe his behavior was merely a direct result of my angry scowl. I fixed my face and George visibly relaxed.
“Do it. If men have to travel there to find him, they go. Use our contacts in Mexico to procure weapons. No expense will be spared. I want Cuchillo dead, preferably at my own hand, but I understand the complications of bringing him to the States if he crossed the border.”
I drummed my fingers on my desk. My skin felt tight and my hands ached to wrap around Cuchillo’s neck and squeeze the life out of him. Restless and agitated, I kicked my chair back when I stood and it slammed into the wall with a loud crash.
“You can go,” I said to George, tamping down the urge to destroy yet another refurbished office.
George turned on his heel and got the hell out of there as fast as he could. The second the door sealed behind him I pinched the bridge of my nose.
How hard was it to find one goddamn motherfucking drug lord?
The man had to have a money trail. Multiple accounts, shadow companies, fake names… My men were working on pulling the paperwork to all of Cuchillo’s holdings, specifically properties, to find out the different shell companies and names he used to purchase them. Once I had those, tracking him shouldn’t be hard. I just didn’t have the patience to wait while they did the groundwork. I wanted my revenge. Now.
Fidgety, I stood at the window and gazed out at the garden while going over the events of the last two days. I knew Milo wouldn’t be an easy man to break, but the brawny man fell apart much faster than I imagined. After hacking off his hand at the wrist, he blubbered like a baby. When I cut off his foot, he began talking. Unfortunately, the piece of shit didn’t know much. He admitted to telling El Cuchillo about Miri, how she was my weakness, where to find us the night she was taken. He also told the bastard where Miri would be the day she was shot at by the jet skiers, who ended up being two of Cuchillo’s men, sent specifically to kill Miri in order to get to me.
Once I realized how useless Milo was, I ended it quick. Despite wanting to make Milo suffer for what he did to Miri, I was suddenly disgusted by the sight of the traitor’s blood. Dark red spatter covered me from the neck down, soaking my clothes and staining my skin. It was all I could do to keep it together long enough to wipe off with a wet towel and change clothes. The long ride home nearly drove me insane with the need to shower and scrub every inch of my body until my skin glowed pink.
Fucker ruined my favorite Tac pants with his blood.
Asshole.
Just thinking about the filth made me twitch. I ran a hand down my suit, making sure it lay flat and unwrinkled. Brick was coming by today for our last meeting, this one to finalize all of the legal documents and get rid of my Austin business and leave the heroin trade for good.
Then I would take Miri and disappear, give her the life she deserved. Far away from drugs, crime, and everything else I represented.
After I killed Cuchillo.
My phone rang and I fished it out of my pocket. It was Frank.
“Yes.”
“Boss, Brick just arrived.”
I took one last moment to straighten my tie and exited the study. Time to end this shit and put Boss to rest.
Jag was waiting for his turn in the driver’s seat, and I fully intended for him to get his chance. Soon.
Miri
With Jag home, Cat and I were allowed to spend time outside again, but only on the grounds of the house. We sat in the gazebo, our legs curled up beneath us, and enjoyed the breeze from the lake. Men in Black were everywhere, so we didn’t talk much. Nothing put a damper on fun like burly men with guns staring at you all the time.
