Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Cortez
My legs give way, heart-wrenching as I crumble to my knees. Fuck!
Burying my head in my hands, I fist my hair, a lone tear streaking down my cheeks when I feel the faintest flutter in my shoulder. I turn around to see her. My eyes widen in surprise, but they soon narrow in horror when the young girl’s eyes roll to the back and her irises turn blood red.
Her lips part into an overly stretched smile, and she starts to scream at me.
“You caused this! Now I rot in hell because of you!” Her voice feels like a million voices at once, piercing my ears, intensifying the weight of my sorrows.
“Arrghh!” A scream yanks my lips, forcing me to bring my hands to my ears. Liquid trickles out of my ears, staining my palms with blood. I’ve barely recovered from that when the girl appears in my vision, tearing her own face with her fingers.
“I’m in hell because of you!”
My eyes jolt open, and I quickly sit up on my bed, taking in my surroundings.
Breathing harshly, I dart my gaze around the corners as if hoping to find something lurking there.
Then I shake my head, rising to my full height.
Sweat rolls down my back, my forehead, and my fingers curl into a fist, nails biting into my palm.
“It’s just another nightmare,” I mutter to myself, my heart thundering in my ears, even though I know it isn’t.
I haul a hand through my hair, tugging as I walk to the bathroom and splash water in my face. So many years later and here I am, still haunted by the desperation of days when the percentage of small time deals determined my next meal.
After Elio ran away, it was just me and Dad.
My stepmother died, dad killed her—bashed her head against the table…
and my mom ran even before I could say my first words.
Dad didn’t hesitate to take out his anger on me.
He hit me for things that weren’t my fault and unleashed hell if I made the slightest mistake.
I was only six, but I didn’t get a chance to learn from mistakes.
I had to be long-sighted…see…calculate and avoid.
Then one day, he had enough of me and drove me in his beat-up car to another town and dropped me in front of a seemingly haunted boarding school. There was no explanation, no advice, no goodbyes, just a cold, angry gaze as he whispered the words that signaled the start of my doom.
Don’t ever come back.
I soon learned the hard way that no one was coming to save me. Every holiday, I’d wait on the steps, watching others go home, waiting…holding onto hope. But that hope soon rotted, and I had to face reality.
Bullying, mockery, you name it. I was subjected to every form of humiliation known to mankind. Then I realized—true to Dad’s words, I was just an unfortunate, unlovable bastard. That’s why everybody leaves.
That’s why, for a long time, everything I got involved in turned into a mess. Even if things were smooth sailing, the moment I stepped in, they fell apart.
I clench my jaw, staring at my disoriented reflection in the mirror. I should never have been there that night.
Fuck!
Without control, I drive my fist into the glass mirror, angry at how it shatters beneath my knuckles with no resistance. Blood oozes from my fist, shards of glass sticking out from where bone meets skin as I saunter back to the room.
There’s an untouched bottle of whiskey on my table; I pour myself a glass and down the contents in one gulp. This is the only thing that works…the only consolation to my troubles. And I drink it, glass after glass, until drunken slumber overtakes me.
The next morning, I change into a dark grey three-piece suit, put a bandage over my bruised knuckles, and make sure my hair is slicked back before walking outside.
Alejandro is waiting by my door when I swing it open, clad in a suit, with a tablet in hand.
“Capo,” he bows deeply, and I don’t wait to acknowledge him.
The sound of footsteps hurrying to catch up with me filters through my ears as I make my way outside the mansion and to the shiny black Audi.
I climb into the backseat with Alej following closely. No instruction is needed as the driver greets me with a curt nod and ignites the engine to life. Alejandro knows not to say anything during the drive, considering my mood.
He probably already knows what happened. Only one thing can push past the strong mental fortitude I’ve built over the years—the nightmares. My fingers twitch, and a sharp hiss leaves my lips.
Make that two…the second being Selene. I don’t know what came over me when I walked into the gym to find that bastard guard staring at her ass. All I saw was red-hot fury, and I wanted to unleash it.
Releasing a breath, I clench my hand on my thigh and take in the view as the car speeds past the scenery. Rules and systems are the foundation upon which any successful man must plant their feet. I’ve known that since I assumed power as the don.
And I’ve followed through with that protocol.
Indeed, I ordered a drill for all the men, but that foolish guard—both of them actually—should have been manning her door. The instructions were clear. All men except those positioned at certain strategic places were mandated to join the drill.
Instead, he was there…getting a fucking free show of her ass rising and dropping.
Adrenaline surges through my veins as I recall the satisfying crack that resounded when I landed the first blow.
I’d wanted to kill him on the spot—to empty my bullets in his head, but he deserved the torture of broken ribs and internal bleeding before facing death.
I was satisfied…like I usually feel when I put anyone in line. But I can’t deny that yesterday's event was different. It felt uncalculated…like an uncontrollable primal urge to just—
No. Fuck that. I’ve not had anyone step out of line until she came along, and that’s why I reacted like so.
The car slows to a stop before my casino, and I waste no time in getting out. Tugging the lapels of my suit, I call for Alej.
“Give me an update.”
He appears beside me in a flash, tapping away on the tablet, then starts just as we walk into the casino.
The loud thrum of jazz music, along with hushed voices and laughter, filters through my ear as I take steps into my establishment. The stench of whiskey, cigarettes, and greed fills the air as I increase my pace.
With fast strides, I pass the patrons dressed in the usual all-black ensemble and girls who almost break their necks to see me.
“The second quarter has been good for legal businesses. We saw a twelve percent increase in—”
“And la mafia (the mafia)?”
Out of the corner of my eyes, I see him shake his head. “La mafia non va ben (The mafia isn’t doing well).”
I can picture the chart in my head. Red where there should be green. We reach the elevator, and I wait for Alej to use the card for access.
“As for laundering—”
A series of gunshot sounds slices the air.
“Cazzo (Fuck)!” I quickly draw out my gun in a blink just as Alej crouches me to safety behind a large roulette wheel. Loud shrieks and yells follow the rapid fire of gunshots, women and dealers dropping dead in their spots.
“Cortez! Come out and finish what you started!” Rage pushes my chest when I hear Ramirez’s voice. Of course, he’s the only one foolish enough to dare an attack on my casino.
Alej peeps and quickly yanks his head just as a bullet cracks past us. “I see about twenty men. Security should be here already.”
“They’re probably dead,” I growl, ducking as a spray of bullets flies over us.
Alej nods, gritting his teeth. “Two at nine o’clock. Four at six. Three at twelve.”
It’s showtime. He hands me another gun, and I hold one in each hand, wasting no time in sliding out. The ground is slippery with blood and drink, earning me a fast advantage as I slip through bodies, firing rapidly at the three men in my way.
They drop dead. Good!
Bullets fly past my ear, and I pivot, firing clean shots at the ones on my nine o’clock. Then, I quickly dive behind a large baccarat table. Alej’s shot pierces the air in time, giving me time to somersault behind a pillar.
The sound of chaos increases, bottles shattering, bodies dropping, but I don’t stop. Adrenaline pulses through my veins as I crouch, low and fast, shooting down any bastard in my way.
I want Ramirez. He’ll die by my hand.
Then I spot him standing, flanked by five men who are aiming relentlessly at Alej. “Fucking pussy.”
I open fire, smirking as their bodies fall limp to the ground. One. Two. Three. Ramirez looks panicked, and when his eyes meet mine, he quickly ducks behind a table and then pops up with an AK rifle.
Shit!
My eyes widen, shots chewing through the air as I duck behind the cashier’s desk. But I’m not fast enough. Sharp pain pierces my thigh, and I groan, my body hitting the floor with a loud thud.
I grit in pain, blood pooling in my thigh before I press a hand against it. That bastard.
His shooting is relentless as bullets clatter against the wall, smashing anything in their way. My eyes scan the area in a hurried glance and I spot a tiny space on the left side of the table.
Fisting my guns, I pop the magazine of the first. Nothing. I toss it to the ground and check the second. One. This will have to do.
Crawling to the other end, I peek, and the idiot is still firing rapidly at the center. I don’t have a perfect view, but I take my chance. Angling my gun, I fire one clean shot at the bastard, and his shooting falters for a moment.
Without hesitation, I shoot up, swinging the gun at his head. My aim hits the target as he holds his stupid head, screaming like a pussy. Alej appears in the corner of my eyes, and he swiftly snatches a gun from one of the limp bodies, aiming to fire when Ramirez again opens fire like a maniac.
We both duck for cover, holding our heads, and in a split second, the firing stops. I rise to see Ramirez’s spot empty. He escaped.
I slam my fist against the desk. “Fuck!”
Alej turns to me. “Capo, you’re bleeding.”
I grit. “Stay here. Clean up this mess and call the damn doctor.”