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 pulled out one of my own flashlights, the one I could dim the light on, and hung it on a rusty nail between two stalls.
Luiz glared at me, following my every move.
He’d get his chance to speak soon.
Before I allowed myself a minute’s rest, I went out to the truck to grab our bags. I dropped two of them inside the tent, in case River wanted to change clothes, and the rest right outside. Then I dug out the fan we’d bought, ’cause let’s face it, we were on the outskirts of Bakersfield in the middle of summer. My watch told me it was seventy-eight degrees.
I plugged in the fan and positioned it outside the tent, aimed at River just as he slumped down on his mattress.
“Thanks.” He nodded once and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Now to get my brain to power down…”
If he succeeded, he was welcome to tell me how he’d done it.
I opened another bag and hauled out everything we had to eat. A few meal bars, couple bags of chips, lukewarm water and soda, and a half-eaten Twix. As much as I would’ve wanted to just say fuck food and water till we found Shay, I had to get us proper sustenance tomorrow. Forcing down an energy bar once a day wasn’t doing us any favors. We needed to be able to concentrate.
“Get something to eat before you crash, brother.” I tossed him one of the bags of chips and a bottle of water. Then I spotted a pack of smokes at the bottom of the bag, and I swallowed.
He hadn’t opened it yet.
He’d once promised me to quit when we turned forty-five, and Shay had quit for good at the same time.
I sighed and tossed him the smokes too.
Hell, even I might cave.
Riv eyed the pack, then me.
Not for the first time, we had nothing to say. Life was fucked. Old rules didn’t apply. Our whole life structure had crumbled.
River set the pack between our mattresses before he stripped down to his boxer briefs, and I reminded him to at least drink some water before he fell asleep. After that, I got my own bottle and left him alone.
I removed my combat vest and trailed over to Luiz. In the dim light, his skin was almost blue, and each bead of sweat was pronounced.
I squatted down in front of him and took a swig of my water.
“You’re gonna listen carefully before I consider letting you speak.” I kept my voice down. “Chances are you’ll spout bullshit the moment I take off the tape, so I wanna spare myself that headache.”
Speaking of headaches, I was gonna buy painkillers in the morning as well.
“You’re not a low-man,” I told the guy. “You used to be…but now you’re runnin’ around with a twelve-man security detail. Know what that tells me? You’ve climbed the ranks. You left your two-bedroom in Long Beach and bought your ugly Malibu house four months ago, which gives me a time frame of when you started makin’ more dough.”
Only one Blanco member had visited Carillo Mesa in prison, and that man was Luiz’s uncle, Jorge Gomez. Both men had chosen Carillo’s side. Both men also had a criminal background in Brazil; Jorge had immigrated with his Mexican mother in the seventies, after the dad had died in prison. But Jorge had traveled back and forth for years, eventually bringing a teenage nephew with him to the States. By then, Jorge was already an official member of the Blanco Family, and Luiz became part of his uncle’s crew.
Running errands and dealing drugs for a lieutenant didn’t get you a house in Malibu, though.
“You haven’t been seen in public with your wife in a while either,” I went on. “I bet she’s on vacation somewhere. Probably took the kids too. And she’s not coming home until you deem it safe. Because you know you’re at war.”
Luiz thrashed against his restraints and yelled something undoubtedly pleasant at me.
I scratched my eyebrow and took another swig of my water.
“Anyway,” I continued. “We’ve established you’ve come into money recently—conveniently around the time I bet Carillo was in the final stages of planning his escape from prison. You have too many guards to be disposable—or you did. So that brings us to right now. My brother and I want information we know you have, and if you try to deny it…” I raked my teeth along my bottom lip and studied him. River could profile him better tomorrow—actually, he already had after we’d tracked this motherfucker for so many days. But I was sure Riv would continue building that profile once the interrogation started. And in the meantime, I could only guess that this guy wasn’t going to give anything up easily.
The plastic on the floor alone spoke volumes. People didn’t tend to walk away when they were restrained on plastic. Plastic meant blood and DNA. So the intel he sat on was his one and only bargaining chip.