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Juan Carlos sits at my grandfather’s desk, in his chair, drawers open as he digs into business above his rank. It’s the shit he knows to stay out of, though knowing and obeying are clearly two totally different things.
If he were anyone else, this would be the act that seals his fate.
He doesn’t notice me at first, his search occupying him so entirely that he didn’t even hear me click-clacking all the way down the hall.
That’s sloppy.
And sloppy gets you dead.
“What are you doing, Juan?” I inquire, calm and curious.
His shoulder flinches, but he shows no other sign of distress. “Looking for the manual to the security system. Orlando said there was an issue with camera four.”
I nearly scoff at his lie. Orlando isn’t on the security team. He leads the Scarlett group. They’re the guys you call to pick up defectors and deliver them safely to you for… questioning. And they’re some of the few who won’t oppose me when I take over.
“The manual would be in the security room,” I point out, playing the helpful pawn. “Not in Grandfather’s desk drawers.”
“Why are you here?” Juan asks, suspicious of my presence.
“I came to get January and February’s finances.”
He dismisses me with a flourish of his hand. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve already taken care of it.”
“I’m sure you have,” I agree. “That won’t stop me from doing the job asked of me.”
“Lorenzo sent you to pick them up?” he questions me, curling his lip in distaste.
I bite my tongue. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll let him know I’ve—”
“He doesn’t care,” I interrupt. “He told me to not leave without them, so I’ll be taking those files. Unless there’s some reason you need me to wait? You have been keeping everything in order, right?”
“Don’t patronize me,” Juan snarls before settling himself. “I know what my job is. And I do my job better than anyone around here. I have your grandfather’s ear, girl. Maybe you should watch your tone.”
I can’t wait to kill this fucking cretin.
I’ll even take his ear with me when I deliver the news to Senior.
“My apologies,” I dryly reply. “My grandfather knows Lorenzo is going over the finances. It’s part of his tutelage. I’m only doing what he asked of me.”
I step toward the desk, noticing the papers Juan was looking at aren’t the fiances at all. No. They’re profiles my grandfather kept on the foot soldiers and gunners.
Juan shuffles the papers together and quickly jumps to his feet. It’s one of those cliché intimidation factor things weaker men like to pull. He didn’t appreciate looking up at me while we were talking. And now that I’m closer, he’s unhappy with himself for not standing sooner. I’m beneath him. Juan has enjoyed pointing that out to me for far too long.
“While we’re speaking of things that have been asked of you,” he addresses, straightening his suit jacket. “Your grandfather feels as though you’re letting your duties slip.”
“Which ones would those be?” I ask.
“You haven’t taken the last three jobs I’ve sent you,” he states.
“Those aren’t jobs from my grandfather,” I inform him. “He wouldn’t waste my time like you do. I’m not your foot soldier. If you want me to accept a job, then stop sending me to take out Estrada’s trash and say please.”
Juan’s expression belays his anger as he growls, “You forget yourself in my presence.”
“I do not. You forget who teaches me. Otherwise you’d know I’m much too useful to squander my skills on taking out the lower-ranking members.” I tip my head like we’ve come to an agreement. “We have dozens of men who would graciously jump at the jobs. Pass them along.”
“I didn’t ask them,” he says, harshly enunciating each word. “I told you to do them.”
