Chapter Nine
Damn it, I can’t shoot Roberto.
Not yet.
That truth comes at me hard and fast and with blistering clarity.
Roberto possesses information that could help us end the Society.
And ending the Society means we no longer need the cartel to maintain a balance of power.
Translation: I have to talk to the bastard.
And damn it, damn it, damn it, there are ways he might benefit us better alive than dead.
I lower my weapon. “I’m not letting you beyond that door.
” I lean on the wall. “But let’s have a talk. ”
His lips twist sardonically. “I want that whiskey.”
And I want him trapped like the rat he is and always will be. In other words, he’ll get what I give him. “Once you’re in there, you can’t get out without me making it happen. In other words, by giving me something that convinces me you’re better off alive to me than dead.”
He considers me several beats. “I have more to offer you, my dear daughter-in-law, than you can possibly imagine.”
“If you play games when we get in there, I’ll kill you and wait on Kane to come bury you. He might even say a eulogy that goes something like, enjoy hell, Father.”
He smirks, appearing highly entertained and unfazed, which is good news. I might really get to kill him. “Just to be clear,” he says, “I get whiskey if we go further into the apartment?”
And now he’s irritating me. Either he’s a drunk who needs a fix or he just wants past that door, and thinks it somehow proves something about his power to penetrate Kane’s life in an extra intimate way. “Maybe,” is all I give him.
“Maybe is better than no,” he replies, arching an eyebrow.
I open his weapon and clear the bullets before closing the space between us and offering it to him. He arches a brow and looks at me. “You really want me to have that?”
“If you think you can dig for bullets and kill me before I kill you, old man, go for it. And if you win that match up, you’re still stuck here until Kane arrives. And I think we both know what happens to you from there.”
He smirks, accepts the weapon, and shoves it in the rear of his pants.
I move to the panel by the door where my face is scanned, then my palm. Next comes my code, which I enter with caution, ensuring Roberto cannot see the numbers. When the door pops open, I motion him forward, but he holds his position. “No one is waiting in there to kill me, right?”
“Just me.” I smile, sticky sweet with promise.
He grunts and enters the apartment.
I’m right behind him, shutting the foyer room door, and sealing us inside our apartment, his son’s apartment, which in many a family would represent safety.
In this one, it’s as bloody a promise as any, especially considering Kane is going to lose his mind over Roberto being here, but alas sometimes, almost always, a wife knows better.
Roberto crosses the living room and halts on the opposite side, his back to me, our floor-to-ceiling windows in front of him, New York City stretched for miles in view, the city lights aglow.
It’s a captivating vision, but I believe in his awe and interest with as much certainty as believing I’ll never stab anyone again.
None.
He’s looking for distance, I suspect, and at the same time, letting me know he understands his boundaries, even if he’d crossed them all to get here.
He’s saving himself.
Or trying.
I walk to the bar area at the entrance to the kitchen, grab one of Kane’s higher end bottles of booze, along with one glass.
I don’t drink around anyone but Kane unless I’m planning to be stupid.
I don’t plan to be stupid. Roberto’s still at the window when I sit down on the leather couch and place the bottle and glass on top of the coffee table.
He seems to sense my attention, turning to walk my direction.
“My son has done well for himself,” he says, claiming the chair across from me.
I hold up the bottle and show it to him, his eyes lighting as he adds, “And he has good taste.”
“What the fuck ever,” I say, opening the bottle and filling his glass. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you before Kane gets here.”
He picks up his glass, sniffs the whiskey and downs the contents. “Damn, that’s good. It’s a sin to drink it so fast.”
“You excel at sin. And for the record, so do I.” Done with the chatter, I add, “Suck it up, buttercup. You’re here to die, as far as I’m concerned. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you?”
“You’re direct, aren’t you, Lilah Love?”
“Mendez. I’m Lilah Mendez. The new blood in the family. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect what’s mine. Start talking.”
“All right then, Lilah Mendez. There’s a necessary order to things and there are chosen people to keep that order. I’m one of those chosen.”
“If you’re an order keeper, I’m a nun, and I don’t know many nuns who love knife play the way I do.”
“Just make sure you hate the right people.”
“I don’t hate,” I correct. “I judge. And anyone who tells you my badge doesn’t work that way, is living in a make-believe world.”
“As you sit in judgement of me?”
“You judged me unworthy a long time ago,” I remind him. “Ironically, the minute Kane walks in that door, I’m the only way you stay alive.”
“Without the cartel, the Society would rule far more than any of us want them to rule.”
I laugh with disbelief. “And that’s your justification for running drugs and weapons, and beheading people?”
“Do you think Kane would be able to use the cartel to threaten Pocher if we sold cupcakes and lemonade?”
No denial of his crimes. At least he owns his demons. Still, I don’t like that this particular monster knows the way Kane uses the cartel to iron claw the Society, but then, he was never dead and always involved. “Why hide all those years?”
“I didn’t hide. I manipulated my circumstances to my and my son’s benefit. The Society had a hit out on me. I needed them to know even if I died, I lived on through my son.”
“Your brother was in control.”
“He was never in control. Kane had to fix every fuckup he made, of which there were many. But despite this, despite there being no doubt Kane was the real force inside the cartel, he has one foot in and one foot out and the Society knows it. Pocher knows it. Making your father a king, and taking Kane with him, is meant to castrate Kane, and you with him.”
The idea that Pocher, and even my father, believe that they’ll control us through oil deals and alliances is expected and misplaced. The idea that my father’s ultimate rise to power is about us, not my father, is another story. “Get to the point,” I order.
“They now know the bull they will awaken if I’m put down.”
“You mean Kane.”
“Of course, I mean, Kane.” His tone is arrogant.
In fact, I’d say he’s the epitome of arrogance which translates to fool, and it’s that very quality that has placed him right here on my couch, waiting to die.
And he can’t even see the truth of the matter, but then his type of fool never sees anything but their own self-proclaimed glamour.
As if proving my point, he adds, “I’ve decided my son doesn’t need to take over, not yet.
Imagine the power we have with him on the inside of their operation and me at the helm of the cartel. ”
“It’s funny how you think you have any say in anything right now.”
He leans forward, sets the glass on the table, and his elbows land on his knees.
“Think about it, Lilah. Kane will have the breathing room to reach beyond Pocher and destroy the Society.” He grins with pearly white teeth.
Wherever he’s been hiding, the cosmetic services were plentiful.
“He won’t be his little bitch.” He slaps his legs, apparently highly amused with himself before he points a finger at me, “And as a bonus, everyone who claimed Kane was running the cartel, will eat a whole lot of crow. I’m here.
I was never gone. They were just stupid. ”
“Stupid calling people stupid,” I say. “Priceless.”
And that’s when the real Roberto decides to show himself. He’s on his feet in a blink, and headed my direction.
This is going to be fun.