Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
All heads turn in my direction. I tuck my head to keep my face hidden and scan the room from beneath my hood. There are about six burly men in the room, with Cross sitting on the only couch. As expected, he’s surrounded by half-naked women – four of them to be exact. Two of them are seated on each arm of his sofa. One is seated on his lap doing some dance while the last woman is positioned behind him, a smoking cigarette dangling between the fingers on Cross’s shoulder. A thick cloud of smoke fills the room, probably from the thick stick hanging from Cross’s big lips.
“Who the hell are you?” asks the man closest to the door. He quietly signals to another, and the two start to advance on me. I take a fighting stance, still making sure to keep my face hidden.
Cross raises his hands to halt the attack. He sits up, shaking off the woman on his lap in the process.
“You the man from Don?” he asks, squinting at me.
I guess that’s my cover. I wonder how Mandy convinced Cross to believe I’m an errand boy for Don Pablo. I make a quick mental note to commend Mandy later. The whole thing is going smoother than I thought. I nod jerkily at Cross in response to his question.
“Everyone, leave,” Cross says with a dismissive wave of his hand.
The man standing closest to him casts a suspicious glance at me and returns his gaze to Cross. “But Boss....”
“I said leave,” Cross interrupts in a firm voice that brooks no argument.
The women file out of the room first, followed by the men. Cross waits for the last man to close the door before leaning back in his seat, assuming a nonchalant pose. He takes a long drag on the cigarette between his lips and lets out a thick plume of white smoke.
“You, come,” Cross says to me, beckoning me with his ring-filled fingers.
I raise my head and drop the hood of my jacket. Cross jerkily sits up, almost falling off the couch in the process. His eyes go wide in shock as he leans forward as if confirming a hallucination.
“Carlos?” Cross calls hesitantly. “Is that really you?”
“One and the same, Cuz,” I reply calmly.
Cross quickly stands and steps aside with a slight bow. I walk forward and lower myself on the seat he just vacated. I let out a tired groan, grateful for the momentary repose.
“How... How... But, you were dead,” Cross stammers, still sounding quite shocked.
“Not quite, as you can see,” I reply, already tired of his repetitive questions. “Pull up a chair. Sit.”
Cross walks over to the corner of the room to pick up a chair. He brings it over to my side and sits quietly. “I...I’m glad you’re alive, Carlos, I mean Drago.”
It’s been a while since anyone called me by my street name. It feels strange hearing it, too. “My resurrection stays between us, Cross,” I tell him, and he answers with a sharp nod. “I hear you’re selling out to the Don.”
“I needed to hold up my base after your death, Carlos,” Cross says, avoiding my gaze. “I know I promised to stop production, but Don Pablo made an offer I couldn’t decline. Besides, I’ve switched the production formula. This new shit’s a hit, man. I tell you.”
“Decline Don’s offer,” I say. “As planned, I’m going to be the sole distributor of your new drug.”
“But, I already took the deal with Don Pablo,” Cross says, shaking his head. “You know how it is.”
“You also signed a deal with me, Cross,” I counter in a hard voice. “I paid a whole fucking lot for your shit. Cancel the Don’s contract. Whatever it takes.”
“Yes, Drago,” Cross says in a disgruntled voice. “It’s going to be tight, but I’ll try.”
“I’ll double the agreed price,” I say. “No one else owns the right to that production but me.”
“Yes, Drago.”
CHAPTER TEN
Abby
I bite down on my thumbnail as I look uncertainly around Carlos’s room, wondering where to start my search.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
Mandy’s visit yesterday seemed suspicious. Then, earlier this evening, Carlos left with a shallow excuse of checking in on his businesses.
Something about him had seemed darker.
Strange.
After he left, I couldn’t sit still. One minute I was pacing restlessly in my room, and before I knew it, I was sneaking into his room like an untrained ninja.
I don’t even know what I’m looking for.
I feel like I might find something that will give me a better insight into the man Carlos Rodriguez really is. We seem to have gotten a lot closer these past few days, but I’ve barely scratched the surface.
He rarely talks about himself, and when he does, he seems so detached from the memory, like he’s narrating someone else’s experiences. Personally, I’m convinced that Carlos is a good man who hasn’t been dealt the best cards in life. He’s led his fate the best he knows how without tainting his soul. However, as Beth mentioned the other day, he’s a mobster who sells drugs and is involved in gunfights. It feels like I need evidence to defend him against the world and their perception of him.