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“Alex left for some meeting just a few minutes ago. I think he was going to the office,” I don’t know why I lie.
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” his hand grips my wrist painfully tight and I wince, “This is the third meeting they’ve had without me this week. Where the fuck did they go?”
The forcefulness of his grip and the look on his face has tears welling in the corner of my eyes.
“I don’t know,” my voice is pained, “I just know there was a meeting.”
He uses the grip on my wrist to shove me away from him, and as quickly as he snuck in here, he’s in the elevator, leaving. Rubbing my wrist and letting the tears roll down my face, I hear him mumble, “Useless fucking whore.”
thirty
ALEJANDRO
It is pouring as we make our way through the city. Andres splashes through a puddle as he pulls the car to a stop under an empty overpass.
This meeting could not be any more cliché.
Looking at the time, we are about five minutes early as we climb from the car.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
EDUARDO
Where’s the meeting?
Andres and I have it handled
Why are you shutting me out?
You’re being paranoid
He’s not being paranoid.
Not entirely.
But the only two people in this world I trust wholeheartedly right now are my wife and my brother.
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, it vibrates again as another car pulls to a stop next to ours.
Andres nods his head at me, acknowledging that the man in the car is the one we are supposed to be meeting with.
As he climbs from the car, I feel my phone buzz again.
“What is this shit?” He looks both me and Andres up and down, “You get to know who I am, but I don’t get to see your faces?”
“No one sees my face,” my words are muffled through the mask pulled over my head, “Ever.”
I watch him fidget nervously for a moment, it’s quite apparent that he is determining whether or not he wants to stay.
“I just want to know about the raid at the shipyard,” I lean back against the side of my car, trying to appear less of a threat. “How did the DEA know about the shipment?”
“You have an informant in your organization.”
“A fucking narc?” Andres exclaims before I have a chance.
“I have information,” the agent slowly and carefully pulls an envelope from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Then very nervously says, “but I want twenty grand.”
Gesturing at Andres, he pops the trunk of the car and returns with a thick manilla envelope.
