Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
“Piper misses you.” Fuck. Why did I say that? Dumbass.
He frowned and nodded once. “I know.” Then he cleared his throat and started walking back to the other side of the truck, taking the leftovers with him. “We should get back on the road.”
Do you miss her too?
I cursed myself. At least I didn’t say that out loud.
“So how did you get Vincente’s dad killed?” he asked.
“I blew up a house before he could get out.” I climbed in on the passenger’s side again and got as comfortable as possible. Without using his lap as a resting spot for my leg. “Back then, I wasn’t on Blanco’s side or anything. I didn’t have a name that made the rounds in the cartel, fake or otherwise. In other words, when Vincente hired me last year, he just connected that persona to Frank—and made sure everyone heard it.”
“Huh?” Joel was confused. “Not only did he forgive you for killing his old man, he spread the word? How does that make sense?”
I chuckled a little. “Trust me, he was furious at first. When I ran out of the jungle that night, he screamed that I was a dead man. But over the years, I guess he found a new angle.” I shrugged. “Apparently, the old man was a vicious bastard. By the time I became Frank Rivera, Vincente was telling everyone he’d recruited the ‘crazy lobo’ who had killed his pop. I’m telling you right now—when we see him tomorrow, he’ll tell the story to those nearby. The moment we show up. He’s never alone. A star needs his audience and all that. And he’ll go, see this man right here? He killed my dad. And I hired him. Because I don’t care if we’re family. If you fuck with me, you’re dead.”
Joel snorted under his breath and shook his head. “They always liked their bold gestures.”
Truth. Bold gestures and strong messages.
I was looking forward to Carillo’s next move. He’d been a free man, so to speak, for hours now. When was he gonna reach out? Like Crew had mentioned, having a low-man shout to Ortega that Vincente sends his regards wasn’t a message. It was bullshit. It was a whisper of a clue that possibly shone a light on someone that another motherfucker wanted dead. And what if Ortega had been killed? Who would’ve relayed the message then? Nobody.
It gave me an idea, and I retrieved my phone to send a message to the group.
Hold up, I had some unread texts first.
All right, this is the second affiliate we hunt down who’s already dead when we get to their place. RT2
What? JO
I didn’t see this until now. Can you report back, RT2? DQ
Make that three. Maybe. RT2
Someone is cleaning house. We’re going by the list JO sent. Mostly known-to-the-police hustlers and low-men. We’re outside guy number three’s apartment complex right now, and there’re cops everywhere. Mark my words, they’ll be carrying out someone under a blanket soon. The other two guys we went to see earlier were dead. Bullet to the head, both of them. We got out just in time to see the cops arrive. RT2
And these are all confirmed associates of Carillo? GQ
Yeah. RT2
I pinched my bottom lip as my mind started racing; only, it stopped on the first name that popped into my head. Vincente. Who else could it be? Who else would kill off Carillo’s people?
I replied.
If Carillo has 100 people in San Diego, from the lowest of low-men only loosely tied to the cartel, to the official members running their crews of lieutenants, Blanco has at least three times as many. I’m 99% sure Vincente knows what’s going on. He’s got eyes and ears fucking everywhere. So if someone is killing off Carillo affiliates, I think it’s Blanco.
Crew responded.
Yeah. Bet. That’s the RTs theory too. CF
I went on to the next topic.
DQ and GQ, can you install surveillance at my house? I don’t know yet how Carillo’s gonna reach out. He may very well have my number somehow, but in case he sends someone to my address, we’re gonna want footage.
“Anything new?” Joel asked.
I hummed. “Yeah…” I gave him an update while I waited for Darius to respond.
About a minute later, it was Gray who texted.
We did that this morning. ;) GQ
I smirked. Of course.
It would’ve been nice to have had a shower that didn’t make me feel like a giant every time I turned around and accidentally banged my elbow against the wall or hit my head against the shower mount, but at least I was clean. I squirmed my way out of the stall and wrapped a towel around my hips, then sat down on the toilet to redress my wounds.
It didn’t look infected, so that was good.
Crew wasn’t gonna win any sewing competitions, though. Christ. But that reminded me. I reached for my phone on the sink and opened up a private message on our secure server, and I sent him a text.