Chapter 12 Cortez
Chapter twelve
Cortez
Something is wrong. My fist comes down in a sharp, hard slam against my desk, the sound echoing through the silence. I can’t keep losing control like that…over her.
I’m the don—not just any, but the most feared name in New York’s underworld. I should know better than to spaz out like a fucking teenager at anything that concerns her. Why can’t I help it?
Shoving my hand into my hair, I let out a sharp hiss. Fuck. I really should know better. I do know better.
And that’s why I’m going to limit interactions. Put some distance between us and ignore her. She can’t be anything I don’t allow.
Picking up my phone from the table, I dial Alejandro.
“Nel mio ufficio, subito (My office, now)!”
In a second, the door opens, and Alej walks in, loud bass music from the club blasting in until he shuts the door.
His posture is sharp and straight when he comes to a halt before my desk. “Boss.”
I don’t bother to ask for an update since it’s still the same endless cycle of children selling, and my men are unable to find anything tangible.
“Quanto presto puoi creare prodotti scadenti (How soon can you create inferior products)?”
A crease forms between his brows, his gaze sharpening, but he doesn’t question me.
“Dipende dalla quantità, Capo (It depends on the quantity, Boss). How much are we looking to make?”
“Just enough to attract the right attention from the right people.”
My hand slides down the pile of files before me, and I remove a paper.
The image etched on it stares at me, inviting the familiar feeling of rage.
Reform. It’s two Rs placed beside each other with the second starting from the middle of the first, squeezed in a tight circle. Their fucking brand logo.
Even their brand name has no names or persons attached to it. Not one.
Anger pulses beneath my thumb as I fist the garbage, crushing it before throwing it against the wall.
“Nosebleeds, tremors, blackouts,” I angle my head to Alejandro, holding his eyes darkly. “I want these products to have side effects. Not enough to kill…but just enough to cause damage.”
An evil smile raises his lips. I can see the excitement pulsing behind his eyes. “We produce the inferior drugs, pretend to be suppliers, sell to the same junkies, and wait for the effects to kick in.”
I nod. “Junkies will lodge complaints, the right…people will respond. By then we’ll be waiting…watching, and when the time is right, we pounce.”
No one sets up a market without structures for mitigation. When it starts to happen, our anonymous competitor will be forced to respond, and we’ll watch who they send. Let’s see how smart they can be without the kids as shields.
Leaning into the desk, I find my cigarette in a corner and grab a lighter, lighting the base. I take a drag, reveling in the surge of pleasure as I puff the smoke out through my nose.
“Colpisci dove si muove il volume maggiore (Hit where they move the most volume). I want chaos there in two days.”
“On it, Capo.”
He bows, turns, and immediately heads out. Just before he disappears through the door, I glance at the rumpled paper on the floor, then at him.
“Alej.” My voice comes out as a rough growl. He turns to me. “Brand it just like theirs. I want every fucking detail on it.”
“Consideralo fatto, Capo (Consider it done, Boss).”
With that, he disappears out of the door, and I rise, walking towards the window. The sun swims low in the sky, overlooking the tops of the low-rise buildings. Cars pass by in a blur of motion, drunks stagger out…people lurk around corners, waiting to take advantage of the night.
Taking another drag, I run the back of my palm along my jawline. In two days, the underworld will burn with chaos. If that’s what it takes to smoke out the bastards behind the undercutting, then let the streets bleed.
Two Days Later
“Our plan is in motion, Capo.” Alejandro adjusts the binoculars from the passenger seat, posture tense and senses alert.
“It’s already hitting. Hallucinations, nosebleeds, fatigue, nausea…the drugs are already being labeled a bad batch,” he continues, looking ahead. “Four junkies have been hospitalized. Three collapsed outside of a club downtown. The street is a mess.”
“And they’ve responded.” My jaw tightens.
“Yes, one guy, Shawn, has requested a meeting with one of our disguised suppliers by 9 p.m. The fucker is trying to trace the origin of the product.”
He lets out a dry chuckle, and my knuckles blanch at the thought of wrapping my fist around the fucker’s neck.
“We do whatever it takes to get information from the bastard,” I grind out.
“Sì, Capo.”
The low sound of the engine fills the silence as I look out the tinted windows. The car is parked across the narrow alleyway where the supplier is positioned. Our disguised supplier is standing beside a dimly lit lamppost. I can’t see his face from this distance, but I can make out his disposition.
He looks scrawny, jittery, embodying the perfect traits for a strung out junkie supplier. Within a minute, he’s approached twice by two desperate junkies, most likely looking for a quick hit, but he wards them off by mouthing something to them.
One of them yanks his own hair and turns in our direction. The SUV is black, the headlights are off, and there’s no movement. He shouldn’t spot us.
I bring my eyes to the black wristwatch strapped on my wrist. 8:56 p.m. We can’t afford an idiot blowing our cover at such a critical hour.
Adjusting in my seat, my mind starts to circle every possibility. They probably have a mechanism to spot fake products. One scan and they know it’s fake. We can’t conclude that they’ve taken the bait yet. For all I know, this—Shawn requesting the meeting—could be a bait.
“Boss. Someone has arrived.”
I tense, taking my own binoculars from the seat beside me. A man, tall and lean, climbs out in a crisp black suit. He’s bald and is holding nothing in his hands.
His face is deadpan, but he walks with a certain gait that is assessing. With tense shoulders and a stiffened back, his gaze darts around the environment. He looks skeptical…like he’s expecting danger. A trait of a trained professional.
“He’s trained,” Alej mutters.
I watch the interaction between them as Shawn mouths something to our planted supplier. He seems to be asking questions, and soon, our supplier takes out the inferior product from his pocket, handing it over.
Shawn collects the packaged products, feels them, slips them into his own pocket, and asks him another question. The supplier freezes.
Fuck.
“Move now!” I bark into the earpiece. Two of my men respond immediately, kicking into action. They break off from a café just across the street, drawing their guns as they close in on Shawn, who also swiftly draws his weapon.
My heart pulses as I tighten my fingers around my pistol, watching with the eyes of a hawk as the two men flank his side, angling their guns at him. Shawn raises his hands in surrender as his gun falls to the ground.
My legs bob impatiently.
“Alej…” I growl, signaling to him that I’m going in. Just before I yank the door open, Alej’s shocked voice stops me.
“There’s a fucking sniper on the building!” He points to a building a stone’s throw from the alley.
The words barely register when I see my men fall limp to the ground, the fake dealer included.
Shawn makes a run for it.
“Son of a bitch! A raged hiss escapes my lips as I yank the door open, my feet thudding harshly as I sprint into a chase. The door slams open behind me, almost immediately, and Alej starts firing rapidly at the building.
Cars almost slam into each other as I skip over one, nearly colliding with a Jeep. The sound of yells and car honks fades behind me as I cross the road, plummeting down the alleyway.
Shawn doesn’t relent. His hands tug at anything he can find, yanking it in my way while he sprints.
Drawing my gun, I fly over the obstacles, aiming at his leg. One shot echoes in the dark as I fire, but he narrowly misses it, vaulting over a short fence.
“Motherfucker.”
I fly over the fence, aiming another round that whooshes straight into his leg. He groans loudly but doesn’t stop running. We’re now at the back of a rundown grocery store, so I slow down, heaving, and angle my gun at his other leg.
“You can’t run that far on one leg. If you don’t stop, I’ll make it two.”
He stops, then slowly turns around.
“Drop your weapon.” His teeth clench at my command. I’m prepared to shoot in case he pulls any stunts, but he smacks his lips and begrudgingly throws his weapon to the floor.
In a few long strides, I reach him, my boots sending the gun skidding far out of reach. I yank him to the ground with a sickening thud. His breath pulls out in a forced grunt as I straddle him and fist his collar.
“Who do you work for?” I growl, eyes boring into his.
The look in his eyes isn’t the reaction I expect. Rather than scared, he looks amused.
“You think I know?” He laughs, the sound dry in the dreary night.
I suck in a sharp breath, pressing tighter on his neck. “I’m not going to ask again.”
“Oh, you better ask again. If you want to know what’s coming for you.” His voice is thick with mockery that unravels the rage searing in my veins.
“Let’s see how well you run your mouth.” My hand finds his gunshot wound, and I dig the mouth of the gun inside, crushing between layers of skin until I feel bone.
“Aaargh!” He yells like an animal, writhing violently beneath me. I hold him in place and bring my gun down hard against the side of his face.
Blood flies out of his mouth as his head plunges to the side. His groan lasts for an irritating minute before he spits, then flashes me bloodied teeth.
“Cortez Donatelli,” he chuckles dryly, coughing flecks of blood in between. “You and your kingdom will be nothing but relics when they’re done with you.”
“Who are they?” I bite out, and his lips widen into a smile that drips madness.
He holds my gaze, biting out the words in a taunting manner. “They’re the ones coming for you. And by the time they’re done with you, all that glory that you wear like a crown will be erased.”
My brows furrow. “What are you talking about?”
“They pay me, though.” He starts to laugh maniacally. “Enough to take my own life.”
Before his words register, I see his hand move from my peripheral vision and he yanks his shirt open, revealing an explosive.
“Bye-bye.” He grins.
Shit!
One minute I’m scrambling off him, and the next, there’s a loud bang and everything goes dark...