Chapter 3
J ago
“Dump him on the mat,” I commanded as I stood off to the side, removing my shirt from the neck and tossing it aside.
I’d come to the club to release some pent-up, hostile energy, furious a meeting that I’d thought would bring us some additional business had failed.
But I wasn’t finished with my offer. Only next time it would be one the asshole wouldn’t be able to refuse.
Carlos obeyed instantly, tossing the fucker who’d betrayed me into the center of the thick mat.
“ Ciento! ” The yell came from several feet away, the crowd of men swarming the ring pumping their fists. They were hungry for blood.
So was I.
One hundred fucking lousy euros were bid. I snickered and climbed through the ropes, turning in a full circle so everyone in the club could see I’d taken the stage. I rarely fought, but when I did, the stakes soared.
So did the bids.
“ Cinco mil euros .”
Five thousand was more like it.
As I approached the already broken man, the bids only increased.
When I was standing over the son of a bitch, he managed to lift his head, gasping for air as a string of blood-soaked saliva oozed from his mouth. With one eye swollen already, he was having difficulty focusing. The traitor wouldn’t need to worry. His condition would rapidly change.
I grabbed him by the throat, easily lifting him into the air. As I held him aloft, another round of bids ensued.
That was good for my club and for its reputation.
After dropping him hard, the thud resonating throughout the room, a collective cheer went up. I backed away, a bit amazed the asshole managed to struggle to his feet. I wiped my mouth and issued a hard axe kick, sending his body against the ropes.
He crumpled and I noticed a few others from the adjoining bar had surrounded the enclosure.
Another surprise was when he lunged toward me.
I dodged the cross, immediately issuing a back fist. He hadn’t been prepared for the move.
With ease I performed a double-leg takedown, toppling him to the mat once again, instantly providing several brutal punches to his face.
I was rewarded with blood spewing from his nose as the bones crushed with the force.
There were definite benefits to learning mixed martial arts at an early age.
Now, in a tight hold, I wrapped one leg around his neck. He peered up at me with pleading eyes, slobbering like the fool he’d been when making the decision to betray me.
Suddenly, the entire club became very quiet, the men leaning forward in anticipation of my next move.
There was nothing like the raw power possessed when enjoying the savagery of MMA fights.
I excelled at it, turning the sport into a profitable business.
While I rarely participated, when I did the club exceeded maximum capacity.
Today was no exception.
“You shouldn’t have crossed me. Tonight, you face my punishment.” I lifted my head toward the heavens as I twisted my leg.
The hard crack as his neck snapped was a sweet reward.
Another cheer from the crowd brought another moment of rage. No one dared cross me. They knew better. Why this fuck had done so was a question that would need a decent answer.
Eventually.
What I’d discovered enraged me on several levels, including that I’d obviously become too soft.
In enjoying the perks of wealth, I’d allowed the treacherous man to provide intel to the Turks, enemies that had sniffed around Spain for years.
That’s why the meeting I’d had in the restaurant had gone south.
I kicked his lifeless body away, taking my time to rise to my feet. When I threw my arms in the air, turning in a full circle, the men in the room began to shout my name.
Even the women were cheering, pushing their way closer to the ring in hopes of grabbing my attention. Perhaps later I would select one to fuck before tossing them away like the trash they were.
But doing so would issue another sign of my control.
This was just a warning.
There would be others.
I moved off the stage, immediately handed a towel.
As I wiped the traitor’s blood from my face, Kruz headed toward me.
I could tell by his expression he had business on his mind.
He held the position of dictator, a coveted role that provided him with my full trust as well as a padded expense account.
He was as ruthless as I was, a required trait for advancing within my organization.
As always, our profit and loss were on his mind.
That’s what I valued most about the man.
He never forgot the bottom line.
I’d also consider him a friend after everything we’d been through. Trust was a commodity well worth cultivating.
And taking with a grain of salt.
A bottle of water was shoved into my hand. I quickly took a swig then poured the rest over my head. After tossing the bottle on the floor, a glass of whiskey appeared. My employees knew what I liked and never failed me.
“What is it, Kruz?”
“Your father. He’s summoned you to his residence.”
I laughed. My father had long since given up control, but even in his retirement, he preferred maintaining avid awareness of business activities and any threats thrown in our direction. There was no real love lost between us, the savage man all but erased from my life.
Other than for family obligations, I rarely returned to my childhood residence.
My absence wasn’t based on disrespect or hatred.
Rafael Torres was a legend and the very reason I held my position as a brutal drug lord.
The reason was much more simplistic. I was far too busy with our corporate holdings and keeping our product from the grubby hands of our enemies.
“Was the meeting productive?” he asked. I’d taken only two of my men with me as a sign of solidarity, something I now regretted.
“No, although it was interesting.” I grinned as I thought about the lovely woman I’d met in the hallway on my way out. While the stench of the man’s blood remained in my nostrils, so did her scent, a beautiful light floral mixed with exotic spices.
“For you that usually means you hooked up with a woman.”
“Not the way I wanted to.” I tossed the towel around my neck and took a swig of my drink. “Did my father say why he requested a meeting?”
“Only that you needed to come as soon as possible.”
Gritting my teeth, I nodded just as a voluptuous blonde swaggered her way in my direction. It would seem satisfying my other brutal needs would need to wait.
While my parents maintained a lavish lifestyle, they’d insisted on remaining in the sprawling Mediterranean home they’d lived in for almost forty-five years. While there had been recent renovations completed throughout the estate, the bones were mostly the same. I had fond memories of my youth.
Even if my father’s firm hand would be considered one of a true savage.
At least I’d developed a strong backbone with every act of punishment.
The man still held an aura of power, feared by thousands. He’d recently made an example of a man caught bedding his mistress. The public display had been watched on closed-circuit television by thousands of people.
As I took long strides down the terracotta tiled floor, I thought about how my loafers managed to echo. Small things amused me since few things did.
I didn’t bother knocking, heading past my father’s hitmen into his personal space. No woman had ever entered the expansive room, including my mother.
“Papa. You had an urgent summons.”
My father was perched on his usual leather chair with a book in one hand, a glass of cognac in the other, a smoking cigar perfectly placed in the marble ashtray. He read another page before leaning over and placing the book on the coffee table, grabbing the cancer stick as soon as he did.
“That will eventually kill you,” I told him.
He grinned. “Thank God, something will. Come. Make a drink. Sit with your old man.”
That meant whatever he had to say was important. I knew all his habits, but I was one of the few who did. He’d made it his mission early in life to keep people guessing.
He gave me a disapproving look. The man had always hated my choice of cargo pants and work boots over more formal attire. Rarely was he seen without one of his signature Italian suits, usually gifts from a tailor who owed my father more than just his gratitude.
I unbuttoned my jacket, shoving one hand into the pocket of my linen trousers as I headed for the bar.
“You look like some episode of a bad American television show from the eighties. Would it do you harm to wear a suit just once?”
“I could have arrived in my gym shorts directly from the fight.” I grabbed a crystal tumbler, waiting as his eyes lit up.
“Ah. You should have called me. I would have been there.”
“You didn’t miss much, Papa. The opponent was… weak.” I chuckled and poured my favorite brand of whiskey, foregoing any ice.
“Weakness. Such a shame. I’m certain you put on a show.”
He might not approve of many of my activities, but he’d taught me every move I’d used over the years. With my glass in hand, I moved to the couch, plopping down and immediately crossing my legs. “What’s on your mind?”
“You haven’t heard the news.”
“What news?”
“They are trying to keep it quiet. They failed.” He grinned and took a puff of his cigar.
“Playing games now?” I eyed him suspiciously as I took a gulp of my drink.
He leaned forward. “Julio Morales is dead, gunned down inside a restaurant. I believe the one you were at this evening.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Really? That is news.” I was surprised I’d yet to hear anything.
Morales was a pig, a man with no scruples whatsoever.
However, he’d been considered a direct enemy through the years, although I’d never considered him much of a decent opponent.
The man’s operation was half our size. “Who?”
“I was wondering the same thing. I thought perhaps you took it upon yourself to eliminate an opponent.”
There were no alliances in our world, no sense of fair play. With so many crime syndicates from other countries breathing down our necks, we’d learned a long time ago our merciless methods of handling business kept both our employees and other mafia leaders in line.
Perhaps that’s why Morales had been hit. Over the years he’d forgotten the golden rule.
Violence solved all evils.
“I can’t take credit for it. Killing him could have started a war.”
He waved his hand as if the violence meant nothing. I had no issues killing whoever was necessary in whatever means created the most fear and loyalty, but business came first.
Besides, we had a large shipment of drugs that needed handling with careful gloves.
“Do you not understand what this means?” he asked.
“The Morales Empire is in jeopardy. I’ll add the takeover of their territory to my list of activities.”
His expression hardened. “Don’t fuck with me, Jago. There is no decent heir.”
I thought about what he was suggesting. I knew little about the man’s family and quite frankly, I didn’t think learning anything about them was important. “No son?”
“The boy is underage and no one will take him seriously. That’s not the issue. Next in line is his daughter, Genevieve. From what I understand, she’s already promised revenge.”
I laughed, which turned into a slight choke. In our world, women were never allowed to be in control of operations. Was it a Neanderthal way of thinking? To some, perhaps, but wives and female children were cherished, even if there were some women considered toys and nothing else.
Did I think a female leader could be as cunning as a man? Absolutely. Did I think she would have the stomach for the violence and bloodshed needed? Not by a long shot.
“Good for her. I’m certain the men in her father’s employ are overjoyed at her intentions.” She would be considered weak by those closest to her father. That meant she’d have no loyalty or respect and could easily be picked off by any enemies, including from within.
“From what little I’ve learned about her, she’s a force to be reckoned with, but I think we both know she’ll never succeed.”
“Yes, I guess we do. What are you asking of me?”
He rubbed his finger across his bottom lip. “Julio had his hands in several businesses and they would be good for us to acquire.”
“What are you suggesting? That I have her killed?”
“She could be reasonable as she already left the country and her father’s empire once.”
“Meaning?”
“She was schooled in America. She is an attorney. Rumor has it she was tasked to take over as the family abogada .”
“Their corporate attorney. I’m surprised.” Very much so. To place her in such a powerful position was highly irregular.
“Yes, so are her father’s men, I suspect. However, it could mean she’s reasonable. Why not try and buy her out? We have the money. Her brother and sister can live and you can offer her the home she grew up in as a bargaining chip.”
“You mean instead of burning it to the ground.”
He grinned. “You are very much like me. Exactly. It’s worth a try.”
“Yes, I suppose it is. One discussion won’t interfere.”
“If she refuses?” He tipped his head.
I took another swig of the whiskey then swirled the liquid. “Then the answer is simple. I’ll take everything she owns and put a bullet in her head.”
My father laughed.
Yes, our business and our methods were ruthless.
But absolutely necessary.