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“How is she still alive?” growled Perez from his perch in the living room. “You were supposed to take care of her.”
“I did, Cisco. I swear, I did. I wrapped her in that sheet and stuck her in a dumpster. I thought she was dead.”
New Orleans Police are asking for everyone to remain vigilant as a murderer, gang leader, and drug dealer is loose in New Orleans. Cisco Perez is from Houston, but his territory was recently burned to the ground. It seems he’s trying to make his home here, and NOPD says they won’t allow that. In fact, even local criminals are saying if they see him, they’ll shoot him on sight.
Police ask that if you see this man or his accomplices, you contact the NOPD immediately. Thanks to a generous donation, a one-million-dollar award is being offered for his capture.
“Who the fuck would offer a million dollars for my head?” frowned Cisco.
“I guess it means they’re really afraid of you,” said Berto.
Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed the number of the first man who might offer to help him. It rang and rang, finally an unfamiliar voice picking up.
“Mr. Fernandez is not available for you,” said the man.
“What the fuck are you talking about? What do you mean he’s not available to me? He’s not the fucking king of England. He’s a fucking drug dealer, just like me. I bring his drugs into this fucking country! I make him money!” he screamed.
“You lost him money. His drugs were blown up because you weren’t watching them. You put him and his business at risk by being foolish. Mr. Fernandez will no longer be doing business with you.”
The phone went dead, and Cisco howled as if in pain. Dialing the next number, he waited again.
“This is Cisco. Get me Rivera,” he ordered.
“SeñorRivera is busy at the moment. He asked me to tell you that he will call when he has time.”
“When he has time? Put him on the fucking phone now!”
“Do not threaten me, Señor Perez,” said the bodyguard. Cisco remembered the big man from his last meeting with Fernandez. He was large with no neck and beefy hands. “Señor Rivera is not available for you.”
“Fuck him! Fuck him and all of you!”
Cisco stood, pacing the floor of the old home. He’d broken almost every lamp, every piece of crystal in the home. He ordered the men to take out the bloodied couch and set it on fire, but they convinced him that it would only draw suspicion, so they placed it in the garage.
“Chavez. I’ll call Chavez.”
Dialing the number, he once again was struck by the number of times the phone rang. Previously, men picked up on the second ring or sooner. Now, he was effectively being dismissed.
“Cisco, you find yourself in trouble, yes?” he said, smirking into the phone.
“At least you fucking picked up,” he growled. “I need your help. Send me two dozen men with weapons. They need to be here by tonight, and I’ll need safe transport to Mexico.” There was silence at the other end of the line, then rumbling laughter.
“You think to order me about?” asked Chavez. “You think you can tell me what to do? I am not your whipping boy. I am not in business with you, nor will I ever be. You harmed my family.”
Cisco stared into the phone, then remembered. Chavez was a cousin of Perez. He’d forgotten that. Damn.
“You’ve never even visited her. What does it matter? She’s just another whore. She was promised to me, and she broke that promise. I have the right to do what I want with her, and I will once I find her whore ass.”
“Those are old-world ways that no longer work in this world, Cisco. You have made a grave mistake, and you don’t even know it. You have angered a group of warriors who will stop at nothing until they have your head.” Cisco continued his pacing, now biting his dirty fingernails. “And if they don’t have your head. I will.”
When the line went dead, Cisco stopped his pacing standing still in the middle of the room. He’d underestimated the impact of raping that bitch, Londyn. He needed to get out of the city, but first, he wanted to find her and kill her.
This was all her fault. If she’d just agreed to marry him, this would all be over with. Instead, she’d rejected him, pushed him away, and now he was in this mess because of her. It was all her fault. All of it.
“Cisco, what do you want us to do?” asked Berto.
“Find Londyn.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
