Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Miguel took a step back into the darkness, slipping out of Nero’s grasp even though he didn’t give Nero’s hand a slap. “We should go.”
Anger buzzed in Nero like a hornet he’d keep in his mouth despite it repeatedly stinging until Nero’s throat closed. Miguel’s moment of vulnerability was gone.
“Yeah.”
Chapter 5
Miguel
Miguel’s back ached after getting cut by glass less than twenty four hours prior, but he would have taken much worse for the relief of not having to participate in tonight’s job.
He’d tried to weasel out of it by excusing himself with the ongoing pain and suggested someone else go with Nero, but he’d known it was no use when bright green eyes settled on him with the hunger of a cheetah in the desert.
He’d brought it on himself, too weak and curious to push back against Nero’s attentions last night. Instead of dismissing him, as usual, he’d even asked questions about the bastard’s sex life like some pervert looking for fantasy fodder. The fact that at least now he knew a bit more about Nero’s past and he could use it to his advantage was his only consolation.
Too bad that he’d barely gotten any sleep, haunted by the filthy words he should have shut down.
“Can’t believe he’s asking me to do a delivery job,” Nero said as they drove up to the gate of the animal park used by the cartel to launder money. For all intents and purposes, it was a sort of zoo.
Sadly, while their cargo needed to be kept in a cage, it wasn’t a new caiman for Raul’s collection but people. And here was Nero, complaining about the job he was to do not because it involved trafficking but because he considered it below him. Miguel’s newfound respect for Nero swirled down the moral drain.
There had been times when Miguel forgot who his boss was, but while Nero lived to have fun and was outrageous to the point of absurdity, he was still a Moreno, and while not as vile as the man whom Miguel had promised to kill, he kept dancing to whatever tune his father played.
“Important cargo,” Miguel grumbled.
Nero didn’t immediately respond and drove past the gate once it opened for them, and then along a route leading through a green park, with photos of animals propped on banners along the way. It was dark, and with all the guests gone, nothing was left of the cheerful family atmosphere promoted by the posters. Everything seemed dull, rundown, and even the wind was gone, as if not wanting to witness what was to happen.
“Drugs and guns are easier. They don’t scream, or cry, and don’t have families looking for them,” Nero said as they drove past the guest parking lot and entered the backstage area used by staff. It was a hell hole of concrete, with just one tree growing close to a cubical building, which likely housed the zoo’s offices. Nero parked right next to it.
"You can guess how I feel about this." Miguel didn't express his opinion on human trafficking around the other cartel men, but some of Nero’s past actions suggested he was far from fond of this side of his father’s business. And the fact that he was hardly ever involved in it, instead focusing on drug deals, seemed to confirm Miguel’s suspicions. Still, when push came to shove, Nero dirtied his hands with innocent people’s tears like a good dog, unwilling to be cut off from the endless stream of money flowing his way. Though maybe his compliance was more about keeping his head than anything else.
Perhaps Miguel should not judge when he was also here for selfish reasons, even if vastly different from Nero’s.
He scowled when Nero spilled white dust onto his wallet, used a credit card to form two lines, and sucked it all up his nose.
“Seriously? You just don’t give a shit, do you?”
A loud inhale. Then another. And then Nero sneezed before looking up at him with a slack smile. “No. This is the gutter, Miguel, and you know it.” With that, he was out of the car and heading toward the elongated structure reminiscent of the backs of fake houses at movie sets. Only instead of wood, those were made of concrete and lit by a single lamp looming above a door at the end of a tiled path.
Miguel’s skin erupted in goosebumps when he smelled feces and hay. He wasn’t ready to face eyes pleading for help and hear girls screaming like his sisters had when Raul Moreno had descended on their home.
He caught up with Nero, trying to stop his hands from shaking.
“Give me some,” he whispered as they approached the entryway leading to whatever horrors awaited them on the other side.
Nero stalled, as if he’d forgotten how to walk, but he soon regained composure. “Too late. I took it all,” he said and fluttered his hands as if he were trying to shake off something sticky and disgusting.