Catch up with last week's tease.
Last week we saw Carl in trouble with his father. This week Dante is in trouble with the same man.
I hope you enjoy it. It's still a first draft so pardon any errors.
*Note, this is written in UK English.
As we waited for another car to turn up—ours was ridden with bullet holes—I pondered the level of greed that would make a man like Gambini risk his life like he just did when he could've paid his debts. Instead he'd wanted to avoid them even when he knew death stood as alternative.
The same kind of greed had destroyed my life as a child in San Jose. The same city where someone had ordered a hit on my life. The same city that Carl... Carlos Martinez-Carmichael lived in. Muscles on my shoulders knotted at the coincidence.
"That name he said in there, Santos, you recognised it, right?" Marshall drew my attention with his question.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I replied, "Yes. It's the name of the driver of the car I asked you to check out for me last week."
Lines marked his face. "First he follows you, now he wants to kill you. What's going on?"
Head tilted back, sun rays heated my face as I blew out air. As consigliere—adviser—and head of security, Marshall deserved to know events that had led up to this. Moreover, I trusted him with my life daily.
Gaze fixed at the outbuilding currently housing the bodies of the dead assassins, my words were without inflection. "While I was away I met someone, a young man. It turned out he was Juan Pablo Martinez-Carmichael's son. I didn't know until afterwards. Mr Santos works for him."
"The Baron?" His voice rose with alarm as he tilted his head sideways.
"Juan Pablo is one crazy mean sonofabitch and you fucked his son? Merda! No wonder he wants you dead." Marshall threw his hands up in the air and paced, gravel crunching under his shoes.
Crazy thing was that I wanted to fuck Carl again even knowing what I knew about the lad. "I don't give a shit."
"Tell me what happened." He leaned against our battered car, arms crossed over his chest.
I did the same and crossed legs at the ankles before telling him what happened with Carl. How he'd approached me in the club, my dismissal of him and subsequently saving him in the alley. How I took him back to the hotel and we'd spent the night and next day together. I skimmed the details but I'm sure Marshall could tell from the softness of my voice how the boy had gotten under my skin in the little time we'd spent together. Then my voice hardened as I told of how I'd confronted the men following Carl and I, and how he'd subsequently confessed to setting me up.
My nose flared and knuckles cracked in my fists at remembering how he'd manipulated me and I'd fallen for his act. I'd been so angry at him; I'd simply walked out of the cafe without looking back instead of doing something I'd later regret.
Of course the fact that he was a Martinez-Carmichael had worried me at the time but I hadn't paid it much attention. Carl's father, The Baron, as he was known among the cartels had made it known a long time ago that we were enemies since we'd refused working with him on his drug business. We cut off all his supply routes into the Montez territories and other southern colonies that asked for our help.
So I knew the fact I'd ended up in bed with his son spelt bad news. I'd expected him to request some kind of hefty compensation, perhaps even try muscling into some of my provinces. But I'd never expected to pay with my life.
"This is fucked up. What do you want to do?" Marshall asked when I finished telling him what had happened.
"I'm not going to wait for the next wave of assassins to come after me. I'm taking the fight to The Baron."
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