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I settle into my chair and wait. Mike should be calling soon, and I’m ready. Once I know my package was delivered, I’ll send him his payment, but if he fucks up, I’ll have my men hunt him down. He’s been given a lot of chances, and normally I would drop the wannabe pig, but I don’t like doing business with cops or anyone who represents them. It was hard to find someone I could even trust to carry things out how I would want behind bars.
“Boss?” Miguel chirps, dragging me from my thoughts as he sits on the couch next to me.
“What is it?”
“Shouldn’t he have called by now?”
I roll my eyes. I want to backhand him, but he’s still so young and learning. Normally I don’t have patience for stupid questions, but he wasn’t brought up in this shit like all of the people before him. He was innocent before I found him.
I shake my head. “There is no set time for these things like there is out here. In jail, you have to work in slimmer timeframes and make sure you recruit the right people to deliver things.”
He nods and opens his mouth, but the ringing of my cell cuts him off.
I raise a brow with a grin, then answer and bring it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Seb, it’s done.” Mike heaves over the line. “It took longer than expected, and I had to step in, but it’s done and pinned on another inmate.”
“I want proof.”
He goes silent as soft taps sound through the receiver. “Check your texts.”
A second later my phone pings. I mute him, then click my home screen. A small “1” floats in the corner of my messages icon. When I click it, I’m brought face-to-face with a very bloody, very dead Desiderio Garcia.
I unmute and bring the phone back to my ear. “Well done, Mike. I’ll have one of my men deliver your payment as we speak. It was a pleasure doing business.”
Before I can hang up, he talks again. “This will be the last time, Sebastian. I can’t risk my job anymore.”
I chuckle. “You’ll do whatever I need. I think you’ve forgotten I know where dear old mom lives.”
The line goes silent before it disconnects. I laugh again and throw it onto the end table next to me. When I look up, Miguel is deep in his own phone texting with his brows pulled together and a frown on his lips. “What’s the matter, kid?”
His eyes pull up to mine. “We have a problem.”
My light mood suddenly disappears. “Well? What’s the problem?” I snap.
“The casino—you know, the one Emil owns. Some shit went down there about thirty minutes ago.”
“Excuse me?” I lean forward and clasp my hands together.
“I’m trying to get more details. The guy we put to watch there said someone went in and fucked some people up pretty bad.”
“The guy? Get a fucking name!” I yell.
He nods, then stands and walks out the door, bringing his phone to his ear.
I pick up my phone again and dial Angel’s number. I’m not surprised when it goes to voicemail. He is so fucking paranoid it isn’t even funny. I leave a quick message with just my name, then hang up and wait some more. I hate fucking waiting, but it’s the only thing I can do anymore. With more of my men dead than alive, I rely on other people, third-party sources, to do my job. Instill fear, murder who deserves it, push my product over the border. Soon enough I’ll have enough new recruits I won’t have to wait. There will be more of us than the enemy. Working with lowlifes like the Hales only helps that too. Soon, really fucking soon, I’ll have everyone on my side in some way.
My phone rings again, and I waste no time answering it.
“What do you want, Sebastian?” Angel asks without a hello.
“Your guys over the border, do they happen to watch the south side of Northridge Heights?”
“Maybe, why?”
“The Hideout, that casino, something happened and I’m trying to get details.”
“Why don’t you ask those Hales,” he scoffs.
“Excuse me?”
“Misma cara,” he says, all too amused. Same face.
“The twins? Which one?” I ask, starting to lose my patience.
“The quiet one.” He hangs up.
It takes everything in me not to crush the phone in my hand. “Fucking idiots,” I whisper to myself.
