10. Dante
TEN
The Escalade’s engine purred as Marco and I cruised through the abandoned industrial district. My thoughts were elsewhere, though. Back to last night, to the scorching heat of Eva’s naked body against mine, her skin tasting like a drug I couldn’t get enough of, and the way she wailed my name when she came. Yep, that was one hell of a night.
“You seem...distracted, Dante.” Marco’s voice penetrated the fog of lust, hazing my mind.
Flashing him a naughty grin, I drawled, “Let’s just say I had a fan-fucking-tastic night.”
His eyebrow quirked. “The girl from the club?”
I chuckled, indulging in the memories again. Eva’s wicked red lips, her body writhing under me, her flavor drugging my tongue. No woman had ever snared me so entirely in her sensual web.
“Her name’s Eva,” I muttered, the words spilling out. “She’s, uh, something else.” I shrugged, trying to play it cool but failing miserably.
Marco glanced at me before refocusing on the road ahead. “Something else, huh? In what kinda way?”
“Yeah, it’s like... I don’t know, man; I’ve never met a chick like her. She’s... just... she’s... fucking...” I shook my head, at a loss.
Marco didn’t say anything for a while, looking thoughtful. When he finally opened his mouth, his words had an edge of worry. “Just watch yourself with her, Dante. We can’t lose focus now.”
We swung around the bend, and the dilapidated warehouse appeared, sticking out like a sore thumb next to the high-end buildings clustered around it. Marco killed the engine, and we sat silently momentarily, taking in the scene.
“You sure about this?” Marco’s forehead creased with concern. “These Colombian fuckers have been acting sketchy lately. No telling what kind of bullshit is waiting for us in there.”
I nodded, my jaw clenching. “No other options, man. My father needs this supply line, especially with the DEA breathing down our necks non-stop.”
Marco let out a heavy breath but didn’t push it. We were both aware of the dangers, but that was just another day in our line of work. With a final nod, we exited the car and moved toward the warehouse.
The vast interior was barely illuminated, the darkness almost alive, undulating and shifting. Instinctively, my hand moved to the small of my back, finding solace in the familiar heft of my gun.
“Keep your cool,” I said, low enough for only Marco to hear. “Let me do the talking.”
Marco gave a curt nod, his jaw tightening, as a group of men emerged from the shadows, their faces hardened masks of grit and determination. At their center stood a figure I recognized all too well—Raul Moreno, the head of the Colombian gang.
Raul’s dark eyes swept over us, his lip curling into a sneer. This man reveled in power, in the thrill of having others at his mercy.
“Dante Reyes,” he drawled. “I must admit, I’m surprised your father let you off his leash for this little rendezvous.”
I felt the insult like a physical blow but refused to let it show. Keeping my expression carefully neutral, I met Raul’s gaze head-on. “My father knows I’m more than capable of handling our... business affairs,” I countered, letting a hint of steel creep into my tone.
Raul’s eyes narrowed, and for a tense moment, I thought he might push the issue further. But then, a wolfish grin settled on his mouth, and he clapped his hands together.
“Of course,” he said, his voice dripping with a false warmth. “Let’s not waste time on petty posturing, eh? We have matters to discuss.”
I forced myself to remain impassive, even as my muscles coiled with the urge to wipe that smug look off his face.
“You mentioned renegotiating our terms,” I said, cutting straight to the chase. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
Raul’s grin widened, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. “Ah, yes. My associates and I have been taking on additional risks lately. The DEA has been sniffing around, asking questions, making our operations increasingly hazardous. They’re getting too close. If we are to continue doing business, we must account for this added danger. Double the original amount seems a fair solution to our problem.”
Shit. There was no way in hell my father would agree to double. We all knew that, even Raul. This spelled trouble. I could feel Marco shifting restlessly beside me. One wrong move, one ill-timed word, and this situation could spiral out of control.
I drew in a slow, steadying breath. There was no use letting Raul’s bravado get under my skin – that was precisely what the smug bastard wanted. With a casual shrug, I met his fiery glare head-on.
“You’re not wrong, Raul,” I admitted, keeping my tone even and dispassionate. “The DEA has been a relentless thorn in our side lately. A few... setbacks have forced us to rethink our operational strategies.”
Raul’s eyes narrowed to slits, but I held up a hand before he could interject.
“However, those setbacks are temporary,” I continued smoothly. “My father has the situation well in hand. We’re already implementing new contingencies to stop the DEA. Trust me, my father is on top of this.”
It wasn’t a complete lie – my father did have some twisted game in the works.
“In the meantime,” I said, gazing over the assembled Colombians, “we understand the increased risks you’re shouldering on our behalf.”
A muscle ticked in Raul’s jaw, but I could see the spark of greed flickering in his eyes—hook, line, and sinker.
“We’re willing to offer a 25% premium over our current rates,” I said, letting the words hang in the air like a baited hook.
Raul’s nostrils flared, and for a heart-stopping moment, I thought he might spit in my face and call the whole deal off. But then, that wolfish grin stretched across his features once more.
“Twenty-five percent,” he mused, rolling the words around like a fine wine. “I suppose that’s a start.”
The implication was clear – he intended to bleed us dry, one unreasonable demand at a time. But I couldn’t let on that I saw through his ploy, not when we were in such a precarious position.
“I’m glad we could agree,” I said smoothly, extending my hand.
Raul eyed my hand briefly, letting the tension build before clasping it in a grip that bordered on crushing. His smile was all teeth, a predator acknowledging the temporary submission of his prey.
As we left, Raul called, “Oh, and Dante?”
I paused, glancing over my shoulder with a carefully raised brow.
“Give your father my regards,” he sneered. “Tell him the Reyes cartel had better get their house in order soon. We don’t tolerate loose ends.”
The thinly veiled threat hung in the air, but I refused to take the bait. With a curt nod, I led Marco out of the warehouse and back into the waiting Escalade.
I allowed the tension to bleed only when the engine rumbled to life, and we pulled away. Marco shot me a sidelong glance, his brow furrowed.
“You sure that was the right play, Dante?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern. “Giving in to Raul’s demands like that? Dude’s gonna keep squeezing us for all we’re worth.”
I let out a weary sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. “We didn’t have a choice, man. Not with the DEA breathing down our necks like this. We need that supply line, no matter the cost. At least I got him down from double the money.”
Marco’s jaw tightened, but he gave a reluctant nod. We both knew the score – in our world, survival often meant making deals with snakes like Raul Moreno.
“And it’s only temporary,” I muttered, more to reassure myself than anything. “Once we get this DEA bullshit sorted, we can cut those Colombian fucks loose and find a new pipeline.”
Raul had been right about one thing—we needed to get our house in order fast. The DEA was closing in, and God only knew what other threats were waiting in the wings.
But dwelling on the risks would only drive me mad. I had to focus on the solutions.
A slow smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as my thoughts drifted to Eva and the memory of her body writhing beneath mine, a tempting oasis amidst the endless desert of violence and chaos that was my life.
I could find the time to seek her out again. To lose myself in her intoxicating embrace and forget this fucked up world.
My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten all day, consumed by the mountain of paperwork spread across my cluttered desk. I glanced at my phone as it buzzed insistently, the caller ID flashing my sister’s name. Sighing, I reluctantly put down my pen and answered.
“What is it, Sof?”
“Dante, I need your advice,” she said, her tone laced with concern. “It’s about Allen. I think... I think he might be involved in something illegal.”
My protective instincts kicked into high gear. “What makes you say that?”
Sofia hesitated for a beat. “I overheard him on the phone, talking about ‘payback’ and ‘the cartel.’ He got defensive when I asked him about it.”
A muscle twitched in my jaw as I considered the implications. If Allen was involved in anything remotely connected to our world, it could spell disaster for Sofia. My father had kept her far away from our “activities’’ throughout her life. The thought of her getting caught up in the crossfire, of her innocence being tainted by darkness, fucking killed me.
“Stay away from him, Sofia,” I said, my voice brooking no argument. “Just for the next few days. At least until I can investigate this further.”
“But Dante, I –”
“No buts,” I cut her off, my tone firm. “Promise me you’ll steer clear of Allen until I give you the all-clear.”
There was a long pause, and I could sense her reluctance, her desire to argue with me. But in the end, she relented with a heavy sigh.
“Okay, Dante. I promise.”
“Bye, Sof.”
I hung up and slumped back in my chair, rubbing my throbbing head. Shit, was this the life I wanted? All these power plays, backstabbing assholes, and blood on my hands that no amount of cash could scrub off?
Was there even a snowball’s chance in hell for me to be more than another ruthless cartel kingpin? Some tiny-ass shred of hope for redemption, for a future without all the fucked up sins trailing behind me?
Hell, if I knew. The only thing I was sure of was that I had to keep Sofia safe, protect her from the cartel’s dark shit that infected everything I touched.
My phone buzzed again. I scowled at the screen. Marco! I was just with him a few hours ago, and now he was already riding my dick about something.
“What?” I barked into the phone.
“I’m at Diablo. There’s a problem,” Marco said, rushing his words.
“Slow down, Marco,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose as I tried to make sense of his frantic words. “What’s going on at the club?”
“It’s Cruz, man,” Marco said, his voice taut with tension. “He just rolled up with his crew.”
Javier fucking Cruz, who’d been nipping at our heels for months, trying to muscle in on our territory, yet my father refused to do anything about it.
“I’m heading there now,” I snarled, jaw clenched tight, already walking to my garage. “Keep that dickhead in your line of vision until I arrive. I’ll personally toss his ass to the curb. Oh, and Marco?”
“Yeah, Dante?”
“Dig up what you can on Allen Hawkes, the schmuck dating my little sister. Something tells me he’s wading into deep waters.”
“You got it, boss. Consider it handled.”
Already in my car, I put the phone down, and as I pressed the start button, the roar of the Maserati’s powerful engine ignited a familiar thrill through my veins.
The city blurred into a neon river as I cut through the streets, my thoughts a high-octane reel of potential showdowns with Cruz, each more satisfying than the last. My dad may protect him, but one thing was carved in stone—I wouldn’t let that arrogant prick step on my toes in my own goddamn backyard.
Tires screaming defiance, I skidded to a stop at the entrance to the club. The valet scrambled over, but I dismissed him with a flick of my hand, swinging out of the car with the grace of a prowling panther.
The bouncers stiffened as I strode up, their eyes wide with respect. A terse nod was all the acknowledgment they got before I swept past, my path unobstructed. They knew the drill; when I was on a mission, they stepped the fuck aside.
The club’s heartbeat thumped deep in me as I crossed the threshold, the heady cocktail of sweat, booze, and forbidden pleasures filling my nostrils. I scanned the undulating sea of bodies on the dance floor, seeking Marco or any signs of Cruz’s posse.
Spotting them was child’s play—a tight knot of unfamiliar faces at a VIP table. Marco’s gaze met mine from across the room, his face set in hard lines as he gave a subtle nod toward the group.
I made my way over, my jaw clenched tight as I prepared for the inevitable confrontation. Javier Cruz lounged in a plush booth like he owned the damn place.
“If it isn’t the great Dante Reyes himself, gracing us with his presence,” he drawled, his voice loaded with contempt as his gaze met mine.
I came to a halt before his table, my eyes narrowing as I took in the assembled members of his crew. They were an ugly bunch, all sharp edges and predatory stares, their hands never straying far from the weapons concealed beneath their jackets.
“Cruz,” I acknowledged, my tone clipped. “To what do I owe the... pleasure?”
Cruz’s lips pulled back in a taunting sneer, his eyes glinting with malice. “Can’t a man enjoy a night out on the town without being interrogated?” he countered, spreading his hands in a show of innocence that fooled no one.
I felt my jaw tighten as I fought back the urge to wipe that smug look off his face. “Cut the bullshit, Cruz,” I growled. “You know damn well this is my club. What’s your game here?”
Cruz leaned back in his seat, his gaze raking over me with a casual disdain that set my teeth on edge. “It’s just funny, Reyes,” he said, his voice mocking. “Seeing you, strutting around like you own South Beach, this entire city. News flash, pendejo – your reign is coming to an end.”
I barked out a harsh laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. “Is that what you think, Cruz? That you can waltz in here and take what’s mine? This club?”
Cruz’s lips twisted into a cruel smirk, his eyes glinting maliciously. “Maybe not today, but trust me, Dante,” he drawled, leaning back in his seat with smug arrogance. “You’ll see soon enough.”
Anger rose within me, my hands clenching into fists. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to wipe that condescending look off his face, to put this upstart in his place once and for all. But before I could act, Cruz rose from his seat, his crew falling into step behind him like a pack of mangy dogs.
“We’re leaving to find a more welcoming place,” he announced, his gaze sweeping over me with utter disdain. “But this isn’t over, Reyes. Not by a long shot.”
With those parting words, he turned on his heel and strode out of the club, his men trailing behind him like a dark cloud of menace.
My blood boiled, my fists clenching at my sides. I couldn’t believe the nerve of that puto.
“Dante,” Marco whispered. “Let it go for now.”
I whirled on him, my eyes blazing with fury. “Let it go? Didn’t you hear what he just said?”
Marco held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I did, but your father was clear – Javier Cruz is off-limits.”
“He thinks he can just waltz into my place and threaten me?” I spat, gesturing towards the empty VIP booth where Cruz and his lackeys had been seated moments ago. “This is bullshit, Marco!”
Marco sighed and steered me towards the backstage area, away from prying eyes and curious ears. Once we were behind closed doors, he turned to face me. “I don’t like it any more than you do,” he growled through gritted teeth. “But until we know what’s going on... Dante, you know we can’t risk it.”
I slammed my fist against the nearest wall, wincing as pain shot up my arm but welcoming the brief distraction from my boiling rage. “You think I don’t know that? But this is bullshit! Why won’t Papi tell me what the hell is going on?”
Marco shook his head, gripping his cropped hair in frustration. “I don’t have a fucking clue, Dante.”