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They immediately jumped to attention, most of them with one hand on their pants to keep them from hitting the floor. They were all dressed in similar fashion: brand new jeans at least two sizes too large, long white T-shirts, and red bandanas either tied across a black hat or hanging from a belt loop. There were more tattoos between them than bare skin, and as Vincent stood before them, he looked with disdain at the group that his “Boss” had sent to do his bidding.
“I am rebuilding my business. It’s a business that I spent the past fifteen years developing, only to have it torn down by snitches with no gonads. The perpetrators of this are being dealt with today, as we speak, by some of your brothers. They will be handsomely rewarded. Your job once I leave here will be to take the product, which will soon be distributed on the streets, to where it belongs. I’m starting small, but I plan to go large within a month. As of today, I am taking over Brownsville. Tomorrow, I will move on to the next city and so on until I own this entire state. I will not be run out of Texas, chased back to Mexico as if I am an ordinary immigrant. I am Vincent Heston, and for those who don’t know, I am the son of Gilberto Fidel Sanchez.”
There was a collective gasp that told Vincent most of them hadn’t known. It had been a smart move on his part, setting a fire under their asses and striking fear in their hearts… if it hadn’t been there already. He looked at the sorry looking group and pointed at the two largest.
“You and you. What are your names?”
“Jesus.”
“Michael.”
“Jesus and Michael, who is your shot-caller?”
They looked confused at first, and then Jesus answered, “You are, sir.”
“That’s right,” Vincent said. Most of these guys had grown up in custody. They had a much better understanding of prison terms than any other slang on the streets.
There was a knock on the door. Enrique started towards it, but Vincent stopped him. He looked out the peephole and then pulled the door open, letting in a man in a white suit. “It’s done?” Vincent asked him.
“Yes, sir,” he said, handing a small object and envelope to Vincent.
Vincent looked at the object and walked over to the television. He put the little memory card into a slot in the back and turned the television on. A vivid image of a man with his throat slit came up on the screen. His clothes were soaked in blood, but it was apparent that he was wearing what inmates referred to as “Prison Blues.”
“This was Carl,” Vincent said. “We were cellmates once, and friends after that. But he screwed up, and now he is an example to you all of what will happen if you also screw up. There are two other images on here if you would like to see them?”
None of the men spoke. Vincent clicked off the television and said, “This is Armando. He will be your contact from now on. He will get you the product that you will begin moving today, and he will collect the cash. I don’t think you need me to put into words what will happen to you if the amount of cash doesn’t match the product you were given. There’s another small matter of a rodent that still needs to be caught. If one of you brings him to me, a bonus is on offer. Armando has photos of him. I want you to each take one and carry it in your wallet so that you don’t forget his face.”
They still didn’t say anything.
Vincent whispered something into Armando’s ear, and the blonde man and the hooker strolled out to the car that waited beyond the fifteen Harleys in the driveway. There were UPS boxes on the porch, and as the car backed away, Vincent watched Armando have the men take them inside the house. He pulled the small envelope that Armando had given him out of his pocket and slipped out a glass vial. Showing it to Marcella, he said, “A little taste for us later.”
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror and inquired, “Where are we going, sir?”
“To Pendale,” Vincent’s face held a sly grin.
CHAPTERTEN
HIS QUEEN
Pendale, Texas
Wednesday Evening, 8:30 P.M.
“Those steaks were amazing,”Ridge complimented Wes as he sat back from the table to give his full belly more room to breathe.
Raven hid a secret smile behind her napkin. Ridge really did love his steak. If Wes were a woman, she’d have severe competition.
“Yep, you’re going to have to show me how to cook meat like that,” Jake said.
The little curly-headed blonde next to him smiled and said, “I can show you how to cook… everything.”
Hayley was certainly audacious, Raven thought, but she noticed that Jake only gave the woman a quick smile every now and then. Otherwise, he didn’t seem too interested. She wondered if this was their first date. By the looks of it, it would probably be their last.
“Delicious,” Corbett agreed.
“Yes, Wes, thank you,” Naomi said.
For the first time since Wes had served them their meal, Corbett looked towards Naomi. She had chosen to sit at the end of the table, as far from Corbett as she could get, and throughout dinner, it seemed like they had both been avoiding eye contact. But now, he smiled a wicked grin directly at the public defender.
