Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
I cleared my throat. Right. No moping. We had every reason to allow ourselves a small celebration. Shay knew we were coming for him. He knew we were here. He was alive.
“Speak of the devil… Guys, we have an update from Crew,” Coach said.
I tensed up and looked over at him. He’d been sitting with his laptop and phone all night.
“Firstly, the photos are coming through,” he went on. “Shitty quality in awkward angles, but we should be able to get a clearer image of what the inside looks like. Especially the area where Shay is.”
I checked my watch quickly. Almost three in the morning—sounded about right for the hours that partying cartel cocksuckers kept. Crew and Mercier probably hadn’t been able to retire until now.
“All right, this kid’s slick.” Coach lifted his brows and glanced briefly at River and me. “Crew withheld something earlier—he knew Shay was going to fight tonight. He did, and he won. Shay is fine. They called it a demonstration and warm-up for tomorrow. No causalities—which seems to be the result of a changed plan.”
Jesus fuck, Crew. River grabbed my hand, and I took a steadying breath. Shay had fought, and he’d won. He was fine. No use in panicking over something that’d already occurred. He was okay. I couldn’t even be mad at Crew—he’d spared us hours of stomach-twisting worry.
“What do you mean by changed plan?” Danny asked.
Coach read from the screen. “I think it’s part of this profiling dump… Hold on. Yeah—here. Enzo Blanco is accounted for. He’s Luca Blanco’s eldest son and running much of their Colombian operations. He’s a proud man with a fragile ego, according to both Crew and Mercier. For instance, the family loves to display their Italian roots, but if someone speaks better Italian than they do, they’re not happy.” Sure, sure. Don’t one-up the boss. “Enzo originally planned for a big fight tonight, but upon speaking to Shay and Mercier, the theory is that Enzo both raised the stakes and backed down at the same time. He has a bet going with Mercier about how far Shay will go, but Enzo wanted to see the kid in the ring first and announced a demo. The bet is apparently still on, so I guess he was satisfied with the results. Mercier thinks Shay will last longer than Enzo believes.”
I turned to River and furrowed my brow. His mind started racing too, I could tell. From all our years of experience… Could the Blancos have someone who might defeat Shay? Absolutely, though much would depend on how they armed their fighters. Shay was a champion in hand-to-hand combat. He was fast as hell, agile, knew precisely where to land a punch, and his threshold for pain was ridiculously high.
“He’s holding back.” Riv spoke under his breath, and I nodded. “He’s—”
“—not revealin’ his arsenal.” I couldn’t help but smile a little because I was so fucking proud of Shay. “More than that, he’s buying us all time.”
If Shay had gone all out in the first round, chances were they would give him a stronger opponent quicker too.
I squeezed River’s hand and returned my attention to Coach.
“…with Marco Blanco,” he was saying. “He’s the one with intel that Mercier’s after—and, therefore, us too. He knows where Luiz Gajero is hiding out with Blake and Marisa, which leads Crew and Mercier to believe Gajero has a direct line of communication besides Carillo Mesa. It’s a minor detail but interesting, nonetheless. With Jorge Gomez flipping, half of California in shambles, and Luiz Gajero in the wind, Carillo’s rogue launch out of the Blanco Family is lookin’ less stable and organized by the minute.”
Could be both good and bad. When desperate people made mistakes, they were as easy to take down as they were unpredictable and dangerous.
“Why do they think Gajero talks to a higher-up other than Carillo?” Elliott asked.
“Because of how Mercier ended up here,” Coach replied. “He’s here on Carillo’s behalf to strike a deal. Mercier didn’t know anything about Gajero—that’s all Marco. He’s the one who had intel on Gajero.”
Like Coach had said, minor detail but interesting.
“For the record, Mercier being here on Carillo’s behalf was just the ticket,” Emerson clarified. “His mission is to assassinate the Blancos.”
I didn’t have the mental capacity to process such a gig. Not to say I didn’t believe it was possible, but did the man have a death wish? How was he getting out? Did he have backup we didn’t know about?
“Just the old man, or the sons too?” Joel frowned in confusion.
“I assume it’s all of them,” Danny replied. “Taking out a ninety-something-plus old man won’t shake the foundation.”
“That’s not entirely correct,” Emerson said carefully. “We dealt with the same shit in Medellín in the early nineties. When a cartel gains too much power, the US steps in. This is a sanctioned hit. Someone at the top thinks Blanco’s grown too strong—and the old man is the glue. When he dies, his sons will fight to take control.”