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I didn’t like seeing that motherfucker so happy.
River was in the zone. He rose to his feet, still scribbling, and motioned for me to follow him out.
“I take it he’s a talker on oxy?” I guessed.
He inclined his head. “So we know Jorge Gomez has Shay, and now I know Luiz Gajero has Marisa and Blake. I also know that Carillo started branching out from the Blanco cartel before he was arrested. They have a whole operation running down in Brazil. They deal mostly coke from Peru, and Carillo is apparently not happy with his suppliers.”
Hot damn. “I can pass it on to Willow. Last update I saw when I was waiting for the pizza, she was in the process of freezing their assets. Adrien gave her all the intel she needed.”
“That’s good.” Riv made another couple notes in his little book. “How did it go with Em and Danny?”
Oh, just splendid…
“They’re on their way to Mexico now, and we’ll hear from them tonight,” I said. “I think Emerson’s antsy to go help Mercier in Colombia.”
“Yeah?” Riv looked up from his notes.
I nodded once. “His theory is that Mercier’s pretty much on his own down there.”
He frowned, probably thinking about Crew. Lord knew I was.
Colombia was a whole other ballgame. When there wasn’t a war on the horizon, California was fairly organized too. With layers upon layers of crews and independent gangs with affiliations. But now? Shit, I’d lost count of the men Vincente’s guys had taken care of. River and I had dealt with our fair share too. Plus, if Carillo’s closest old-timers, Jorge Gomez and Luiz Gajero, were put in charge of three hostages…? That wasn’t normally high-ranking responsibility. That was something you made some young up-and-comer do. Hell, it was something the Luiz we had right here should be put in charge of. So that spoke volumes of the shitshow state California was in due to this war.
Either way, Colombia played in a league all its own. River and I had been there quite a bit some ten years ago when the country’s cartels were scattered all over the place and busy fighting among themselves. A deadly war, to say the least. Elliott and Darius had been there a lot too. But right now, Colombia was getting a taste of what it’d been like in the eighties when everything had been about Medellín. When only one major player controlled the market, they had fewer random shootings and turf wars, but the grip the cartel had on the country was tighter and much more corrupt.
The Blanco Family didn’t have a monopoly on the coke market, though they were one of the few key cartels. We were talking thousands of people, from coca farmers to high-ranking members, and Adrien’s intel had to be fucking good if he knew where the big boss was located. Luca Blanco ran a tight ship, and he had four grown sons, who were all involved. Now, Luca on his own? Probably not an issue. He had to be over ninety years old. Those sons of his, however… Their security didn’t consist of a dozen guards who patrolled their grounds. They had their own armies that they kept pumping coke money into. They could defend themselves better than many smaller countries could.
Thanks to Emerson’s, uh, pep talk, I was starting to see the future again. We were going to get Shay back, and once we had, River and I could help Emerson and Danny with Adrien and Crew. Shay could rest up with Melanie and his brothers, and we could bring Crew home. Hopefully with help from Cullen and Greer.
Maybe the others too, depending on where we might find Marisa and Blake. If my guess was correct, River had been trying to fish for information on the elder Luiz. Something about Rio.
“What are your thoughts on Marisa and Blake’s whereabouts?” I asked.
River flipped a couple pages in his notebook. “Still workin’ on that,” he muttered. “The punk in there definitely holds his godfather in higher regard than he does his own uncle. And I think Carillo does too. Which… I don’t know.” He scratched his head with the end of his pen. “I think Gajero might have a bigger crew. Emerson and Danny—and Ocho, for that matter—won’t run into any militia in Tijuana, if Jorge is even there. He’ll have one or two guys with him, maybe three. To be honest, I would say three because we know our boy.”
Damn right. Those three men would have to be highly capable too because Shay didn’t go down easy.
Except, we knew he was hurt.
My chest felt tight at the thought, and I rubbed absently at the spot.
“I have no idea where Gajero could be, though,” River added with a scowl at his notes. “If he’s so valued by Carillo, why isn’t he traveling with him to Europe? That makes me believe Carillo has a permanent position for Gajero in the States—right?”
“Not Brazil?”
He made a face and weighed his answer. “I’m gonna do more digging about that, but it sounds like they have everything under control down there. Luiz mentioned a few names he’d heard, not sure I got them right with the spelling. Regardless—fuck. I don’t know.”
Sensing his frustration, I draped an arm around his shoulders and kissed his temple. “Let’s get some food in you. You’ve accomplished plenty already.”
“I’m not hungry—”
“You’re gonna eat,” I stated. “We both are.” I ushered him back into the barn, and he side-eyed me.
“Em gave it to you good, huh?”
I exhaled a chuckle. “Without lube—and a spiel about me smelling like a Marlboro factory.”
Riv snorted softly. “He’s getting a fucking Yankee Candle for Christmas.”
