13
El Jefe
Leaving Silvia at the clubhouse wasn’t easy. If I could have gotten out of taking the shipment up to Canada, I would’ve. But Ferrari wasn’t an understanding man. He refused to deal with anyone else. It was me and only me or we would lose our contract and millions of dollars.
I called her every time we stopped for gas. I didn’t let my crew linger like the other times. We were going up and back as fast as possible.
A run like this would normally take us four days.
I demanded we do it in two.
We were exhausted as we arrived at the Ferrari warehouse, situated at a private shipping dock in West Vancouver.
While my crew unloaded the drugs and weapons, I met with Pietro and Fabio inside.
This was all standard protocol. We’d exchange a few pleasantries.
They’d pay the agreed dollar amount, then we’d make our way home.
I stalked toward the office, stiffly. My groin felt raw after riding straight through. Not to mention, I had thoroughly satisfied Silvia last night. She probably couldn’t walk right either.
“Jefe,” Fabio greeted me at the door.
“How’s it going?”
“Good. You made excellent time.” He always tracked us on an app. It was fine. I wouldn’t let his micromanaging offend me. It was just his and his father’s way to ensure there were no hiccups for their business.
“I understand you didn’t stop for your usual activities,” Pietro said from behind his desk. He never called out our activities by what they were: strip clubs and lots of sex.
“No time for it this trip.” I reached across the mahogany desk and shook his hand, then sat down.
Fabio handed me a glass of bourbon. “We’re well aware of what’s been going on in your territory.” Of course, they were. The Ferraris were well informed about anything connected to them.
“Yes. Glad GQ is okay. He’s a good man.” Pietro nodded. “We look forward to working with him in the future.”
“He’ll be back. You can count on it.” I took a drink, eyeing both men. Something told me this wasn’t going to be our normal talk.
“We put a little extra in.” Fabio handed me a black leather bag of cash.
“For GQ’s medical expenses and suffering.” Pietro smiled and tapped the tips of his fingers together on the desk. Now, I knew something wasn’t right. Ferrari didn’t give money to anyone unless they did a job for them or there were strings attached.
“That’s not necessary. We’ve got him covered.” I sat forward and handed the bag back to Fabio.
He raised his hand. “Take it. No strings. We owe you.”
“Come again. Why?”
“Leo Costa is trying to disrupt our arrangement,” Fabio said, sitting in the chair next to me. “He wants to steal our business and thought taking out your road captain would help.”
I clenched my teeth and rubbed my jaw and counted to five to control the rage building inside me. One, two, three, four, five. “You’re telling me GQ was targeted by one of your competitors?”
“Yes,” Fabio said directly.
“Fuck! They could have killed him.”
“That was the plan,” Pietro replied. “But they didn’t succeed. Leo’s furious his man failed.”
“I’m sure, but still. How would taking out GQ do a damn thing?” I was livid at these two smug men, sitting there like GQ had only suffered a scrape on the knee.
“It’s just how Leo works.” Fabio sipped his drink, then continued. “He craves chaos and mayhem. But you don’t need to worry. His house of cards is crumbling after a botched alliance.”
“His young bride left him at the altar.” Pietro laughed heartily. “No bride. No alliance.” He chuckled some more.
Holy shit! Was he talking about Silvia? “Who’s the alliance with?”
“A small crime family. They’re nothing to worry about.” Pietro waved his hand.
“I understand, but who? I should know to better protect my club.”
“He won’t bother you,” Fabio replied. “He lost the contract with Costa. I hear he’s going off the rails and tearing his world down. Snorting and shooting up.”
I bolted out of the chair. “Miguel Avila, right?”
“Do you know him?” Fabio asked, appearing surprised.
“Yes. What else can you tell me?”
“Only that he can’t find his sister. My sources tell me he’s hitting his old stomping grounds. He’s unhinged.”
“I need to get back. If he’s shooting up and off the rails, he might start a war with me.” I grabbed the leather satchel of money. “Thank you.”
“If you need our help, you got it.” Fabio stood and shook my hand.
“Appreciate it. But we’ll handle Avila.”
If my ex-friend was coming for my club, he’d find out real fast that nobody fucks with the Kings.
I ran out to my crew, who were eating homemade lasagna and drinking beer.
“Let’s go!” I shouted at them.
“What’s up, Prez?” Slay asked.
“Avila’s coming for me.” No question in my mind he wanted my blood next. He’d always been bloodthirsty when drugs were involved. His self-destructive benders could last weeks.
I called Quino. I’d left him to manage the clubhouse and to watch over Silvia.
“Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,” he answered.
“Do you have eyes on Silvia?” I could hear he was in the bar. Music was playing.
“Yes.”
“Did they find Javi yet?”
“No. What’s going on, Jefe?”
“Avila is coming for us. It’s a long story, but you need to lock everyone down. Keep my woman with you. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“So, she is your woman?” He snorted.
“Now isn’t the time for I told you so’s, pendejo. This shit is serious.” I’d wring his neck when I got home.
For almost two decades, I didn’t have to worry about Miguel Avila. I personally knew what a psychopath he was and what drugs did to him.
My clubhouse was out in the open. We didn’t have concrete walls to keep nutjobs like Miguel out. If he brought an army with semiautomatics, they could do a lot of damage. I needed to get home to protect my club and my woman.
“Got it. I’ll put everyone on alert.”
“And bring Mama Virgie to the club. I don’t want her out and about. Miguel knows who she is.”
“Done.”
“One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Keep this on the downlow. I don’t want Silvia to know. She might try to leave.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Keep me posted. I won’t be calling much.”
“Yeah. Hurry back.” He ended the call.
My first thought was to call Silvia, but I’d already told her I’d talk to her in the morning. She’d probably notice the worry in my voice.
I wasn’t sure if I should warn her about Miguel. Tonio and I had been the only people to know about Miguel’s drug-induced psychosis. Well, his victims knew, too. But they never got the opportunity to tell their stories.
If Silvia knew he turned into a bloodthirsty monster when he used, she would have mentioned it. Right? I had to assume she had no knowledge of Miguel’s drug addiction.
I’d just have to trust Quino to handle things until we got home. He was capable. Levelheaded. Wise.
I tried not to imagine what I might encounter if Miguel got to the clubhouse before me. A slaughtering of epic portions. A crime scene every news network would report on.
Jesus, I pray all remains well until I get home.