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Eyes narrowed into slits, I ask. “Who?”
“Rossi.”
“Rossi. No. No fucking way. Rossi’s dead.”
“That prick son of his isn’t. I saw him fleeing before the cops caught up with him without a scratch on him.”
Mica?
“Why the fuck would Rossi have set us up?” It doesn’t make sense. Unless.
My brows furrow.
“You delivered on the deal, right? Tell me you sent the shipments on time as agreed?”
His eyes cast downward.
“FOR FUCK SAKE.” I slam my fist on the table and causing Jim to jump back. “What did you do?”
“Careful, boy. I may be locked up, but I’m still your father and the head of this family.”
“A family that was almost wiped out because you couldn’t deliver on what you’d promised,” I yell, pointing at him angrily.
He snarls. “I delivered as agreed.”
He runs a hand over his scruffy silver stubble, then looks to Jim.
“Give us a minute,” he informs him. “I need to speak to my son in private.”
My dad leans in closer when Jim leaves the room.
“The coke was being concealed in containers that were being transported up through the Gulf of Mexico to an offshore oil rig. But I found out it was being watched. Someone must have squealed to the FBI and DEA. They’ve been surveilling me for months. Which was why I was forced to use a different route to get our shipment up here. It wasn’t easy and caused a lot of fucking headaches.” He scratches his head. “Somehow, the DEA found out about the routes. My transporters were getting caught left, right, and center. We were losing money hand over fist. The contacts in Colombia got wind of what was happening with the feds. They got jumpy and started to hold off on shipments which was pissing off a lot of people who depend on our product. I smoothed things over as much as possible with the Colombians, who agreed to continue sending the product but with lighter loads. The demand was still coming in, and I needed to deliver. I was left with no other choice. I had to cut it.”
“You cut it?” I roar, pissed that he’s done something we said we’d never do. “Our coke is pure. It’s always been pure. That’s why we have the deals that we have. Our buyers won’t take risks with diluted coke because the people they sell it to end up dead. Which draws a lot of DEA attention.
“Jesus Christ, dad. What did you cut it with?”
“How the fuck should I know. Creatine, procaine, the usual. It’s just business. Nothing we haven’t had to do before. Pure coke means less profit anyway.”
“And Rossi must have found out, I take it?” I question.
He nods.
Holy fuck. This is a fuck up on a colossal level. No wonder Rossi wanted us dead.
“Mica won’t get far. I’ll pull him out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. He’s going to wish he died alongside his bastard of a father.”
“Good. See to it that it gets done and quickly.”
“And Jordin? What in the good love of fuck was that all about?”
“That deal was struck to secure your future role within our empire.”
“The fucking empire. Is that all you care about? There won’t be any empire if we’re all dead. Which we almost were.” I bang my fist on the table again as frustration gets the better of me. “Jesus Christ. Granddad is dead. Kelly and Lexy could have been killed.” I point an angry finger at him. “You should have told me there was a possible threat.”
“I don’t need to talk to you about a goddamn thing. Let me remind you, son, as head of this family, you take orders from me, not the other way round.”
“And Ian? We can’t trust the Maloti’s. You know this.”
