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I watched as the other two men filed slowly out of the room. The red-faced guy shot me one last look of utter contempt, and then the door clicked shut behind him.
“So you’re the big fish, huh?” I mused, looking him over. “I wouldn’t have guessed it.”
“We can measure dicks if you want,” the tall guy shrugged. “Or I can sit down and tell you why you’re here.” He glanced at the chair. “May I?”
After a measure of silence I finally gestured to it. He took a seat.
“We’ve heard some things, Santiago.”
“Things like what?”
The man steepled his fingers together. “Word on the street is you’ve been driving around town with some Lozano shithead in the trunk of your car.”
I didn’t move, or react, or do anything, really. Then again, not moving might’ve been an even bigger tell.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he suggested. “Honestly, I don’t even care.”
“Oh no?”
He shrugged a pair of tense-looking shoulders. “Think we’re upset that you and your ex-partners are scraping the shit off streets? Less work for us. It’s like getting a freebie.”
The man leaned forward, to my side of the table. His face was gaunt and a little pale. Initially I thought it was from poor nutrition, but now I could see it was from lack of sleep.
“Yes, I’ve read up on your history,” he said. “You flunked out of school. Couldn’t take tests due to your dyslexia. But you’re highly intelligent. Just not on paper.”
His teeth were yellowed. Not from lack of brushing, though. Probably from too much coffee.
“I’m pretty sure some Army recruiter fudged your ASVAB to get you in, but beyond that it was all you.” The man paused, dropping his own folder on the table. This one had stuff in it. “You earned your Green Beret contract on your own. Aced every aspect of your Special Forces Qualifications Course. Hell, your family must’ve been proud.”
My anger exploded all at once, from a place deep inside. Anger… and something else.
“What the FUCK does any of this have to do with—”
“I know about your impressive military record,” the cop went on. “I know all about Silas Florio and Cody Abraham. And I also know that when it comes down to it, you’renotmixed up with the scumbag Lozanos.” He paused, searching my expression for a reaction. “Or especially with the Ancella cartel.”
I stared him down. His bloodshot eyes were unwavering.
“That’s who took a ride in your trunk,” he theorized. “It wasn’t a Lozano at all. It was a cartel soldier.”
“What do you want from me?” I finally growled.
“Nothing, yet.”
“So why am I—”
“Because I brought you in to warn you, Romero. I brought you in hoping you’d be smart enough to listen to me, and maybe stop what was coming your way.”
For a long moment I studied him carefully. His expression wasn’t anger, it wasn’t disdain. It was a radically different look than the other two assholes who were just in here.
“And what’s coming my way?” I asked flatly.
“The Ancellas.”
I tried not to blink. It didn’t work.
“They’re coming and they’re not very happy,” the man added. “They know something’s up. They’re trying to figure out who’s been ripping them off, and they’re not going to stop until they get what they came for.”
“How do you know all this?” I demanded.
