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the plane, but that smelled like bullshit because it was bullshit. I was supposed to be on that plane. I was the one who was supposed to die, just like Monte, just like Ben. Now it was just Fedel.
“Boss?”
“Emilio Esteban Cortés,” I stated, lifting up his picture. “Do you know who he looks like to me?”
“No boss.” He stepped closer, shaking his head.
“Marcos Felipe Carrasco.”
“El Rojo? The Mexican drug lord?” He sounded far too shocked for the person who was supposed to be keeping his mind and eyes opened for anything that could harm us. “Boss, with all due respect, El Rojo has been dead for well over a decade; you saw to that before marrying into the Callahan family.”
“And then it was your job to make sure his wife and children were also gone.”
“As I did. Every last member of the Carrasco family was taken care of ma’am.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose—a habit I could not drop now thanks to Liam—I shook my head.
“There was a rumor, back then, that El Rojo had a bastard child with some dancer from America whom he hid with his sister—”
“Ma’am, a love child? You think he is the bastard son of one of the most notorious drug lords in Latina America and he’s come to Chicago to get revenge? Ma’am, before he could even get here he would have to get through all of his father’s enemies, not to mention our spies down south—”
“LISTEN!” Slamming my hand on the table, I stood up. “I have been doing this for almost two fucking decades! My instincts have never once failed me! I look at this girl, Liling; she’s the daughter of the most notorious man in China and she goes and marries a no-name Mexican? A Mexican I see and automatically think of Marcos Felipe Carrasco; my mind isn’t playing tricks on me, I’m not going insane! I am sharper than I have ever been in my life. You look at these photos, as my husband does, and see what? A lawyer? A love-struck Chinese girl with a powerful last name? Guess what. I was that girl, I can spot her anywhere else, and she marries up, not down. Find Emilio, Fedel, and put a bullet between his eyes before I get annoyed!”
The Carrasco family had almost destroyed my father. Right as he became ill, Marcos—El Rojo—stole more than half of his heroine and killed dozens of our people, beheading them and leaving them to rot, just to prove a point—that the Giovannis can’t do anything. And he was right; my father was struggling just to keep the Irish at bay, and the Russians were just as bad. He couldn’t take the time to focus on Mexico; his pride wouldn’t let him lose to Sedric. We almost lost everything—our game, our fortune, our worth—all because some fucking Mexican named The Red dared to step into a ring that was never meant for him.
“Boss, I will gladly kill him on sight. Have you spoken to Liam about this?”
“What I have and have not spoken to my husband about is none of your concern. What is my concern, is breathing somewhere in this city. This is unfinished Giovanni business, Fedel. I don’t care how you do it, just put him in the ground. Just saying his name leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” I said, drinking from the bottle.
“Of course.” He nodded before leaving. It was only when he was gone that I sat back down. I had a bad feeling about this…all of this.
And when it came to my work, when it came family, I trusted bad feelings.
LIAM
“Who the fuck?” he yelled, ripping the door and only freezing in his tracks when he saw me. He was shirtless and his jeans hung low. Glancing behind him, I saw Mina pull the sheets up around her.
“Busy brother?” I questioned.
His eyebrow raised as he eyed me carefully. “I was.”
“Was is past tense. Let’s have dinner.”
“It’s one in the morning, Liam.”
“Fine, breakfast then.”
“He’d love to!” Mina yelled, the shirt she threw hitting him in the back of the head. He stared, not bothering to take it off his head before turning around to her.
“Apparently, I’d loved to,” he snapped at her before shutting the door. Taking the shirt off his head, he slid his arms into it.
He didn’t say a word until he noticed we were really going to the kitchen.
“We’re really going to have breakfast?”
“I make killer omelets,” I smirked, pushing the door open, and as I thought, everyone but the cleaning maid was gone. She was scrubbing the floors.
“You can leave us,” I said, not bothering to look at her as I walked to the fridge.
