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I preferred our other way of meeting, in the dark, with his men in their cars, where I could disappear.
Downer met me at the door, giving me a nod before indicating I should follow him.
In every room, there were men.
The kitchen. The dining room.
I was getting déjà vu from when we went to Carloni’s home, sans the working girls.
Downer led me to a back office, also reminiscent of Carloni’s home’s layout and I stepped inside, seeing Roman standing in the corner with a phone to his ear. He turned, seeing me, and held up a finger. He went back to his conversation, and I glanced around the room.
Noting the exits.
A large window faced a pool and backyard that was tiled, with another poolhouse on the side, and a fence going all around the yard.
If I had to make a run, that was my exit. Over that fence, behind the poolhouse. I was guessing there would be the blind spot in their whole security system because the camera was facing the front of the poolhouse and there was another perched on top of the poolhouse, sweeping the backyard.
Yes. That was the blind spot.
“Raize! Welcome. Hope the trip wasn’t too exhausting.” He signed off from his call, slipping his phone into his pocket. Then he regarded me, his head cocking to the side. His eyes narrowed. “You look irritated.”
Downer snorted.
I ignored both, asking, “Why did you call me here?”
The feeling in the room shifted, grew more tense, more alarmed.
Downer had been grinning, and he was still grinning, but it was fading. His eyes were alert, trained on me. He was studying me so intently that he didn’t realize I was studying him back.
A feeling shifted in my gut.
Something had happened. Something concerning me.
Was this how Ash felt? When she just knew the answer?
I hoped not, because this feeling sucked. I didn’t like it.
“There was a hit on Morales.”
My mother? “On only Morales?”
The answer flashed in Roman’s eyes first. “Your mother was killed, too. I’m sorry, Raize.”
My mother.
I almost rocked back.
I should’ve been expecting it. A part of me had been. I knew it was a matter of time. She was Morales’ girlfriend. Her time would come and I figured it would be a bloody end, but hearing it—that was another matter.
“My sister?”
“We don’t know. Our reports say that she was with Estrada so she’s probably alive. Or we can hope.”
“But if he did that? Took over the Morales Cartel?”
“Then he’d come for me…”
“How?” That word gutted out of me.
“Sorry?”
He knew. He winced as I asked the question, and then he pretended to misunderstand. He knew. He’d ask to know how his mother was killed if the roles were reversed.
I growled, my hands curling into fists. “Just tell me.”
His gaze went to Downer before his chin lifted and his shoulders fell back, preparing. “Morales was decapitated. His body was found hanging from a bridge. Your mother…”
Jesus.
He had to pause before he told me. That said enough.
“...they were more merciful. An execution shot to the forehead. Her body was left intact.”
Intact.
Jesus.
This world. This was my world, and I was bringing Ash more into it?
Intact.
That was a merciful killing.
I said, “It was Estrada.”
“No.” Roman started to shake his head, both his hands going into his pockets.
That was his tell, his only tell. When he got nervous or when a topic came up that he didn’t want to happen, his hands went into his pockets. I picked it up long ago, but I’d never needed it against me.
I felt every inch of me cool. I was shutting down, or ‘locking down’ as Ash would call it.
I said, slowly and softly, “Yes. No one else would move against Morales.”
“We don’t know—”
“Do not bullshit me.”
Roman froze.
I could feel Downer’s alert go up a whole other notch. He was the best who could read me, and he knew I was close to violence. Because of this, I wasn’t surprised when he said, as if soothing me, “Easy now, buddy.”
I gave Roman a frank look. “You called me back because Marco made his move.”
His eyes didn’t shift. Nothing. There was no reaction. He was only listening to me, which told me he was aware of everything I was about to say. He had played it out in his head. He’d probably played out every response I would make and some of those weren’t using words.
I asked, “You want me to execute him?”
I waited. I needed to hear what action he’d want me to take.
Roman lifted his head, inch by inch. “I’m not strong enough to take on Estrada, not yet. We have other adversaries here.”
No, no, no.
That didn’t make sense.
Marco made a move. He killed his father. My mother.
I didn’t think he would’ve killed our sister. She was the only one he showed emotion toward. He was moving to take over the Morales Cartel, if it wasn’t already done. No one would go against him. The Colombians would wait, see who came into power. The same with Bolivia. Belize. All of them would wait, but Marco wouldn’t move their way. He would, if he wanted to take over their product, but knowing Marco, he would want to take over further distribution.
