Chapter 18 Stan
EIGHTEEN
STAN
“Custanzu.”
I gritted my teeth at the sight of the man who lounged on his chair like it was a throne.
By association, Martinez and I were allies. By deed, friends.
That didn’t mean I appreciated the dirty cops in his pocket escorting me off the fucking plane and transporting me to his compound like a lost package.
The use of a chamber this size only reinforced his position, and that goddamn throne of his amplified the message.
Marble floors and columns, a tapestry worthy of a medieval battlefield behind his grandiose seat of power… Yes, he was pissed and posturing.
It was the why that had me flummoxed.
“Martinez,” I retorted, and not because I was being rude by not using his first name—no one knew it. Period. “Since when is this territory yours?”
A glint appeared in his eyes, but I noticed he didn’t answer. “I thought it was your brother who liked to carve his enemies’ cheeks?”
“Family trait,” I demurred. “And I want that knife back. It’s an heirloom.”
“Those cops work for me.”
“Then I hope it includes hazard pay. You snatch a Valentini, your face bears the brunt of it.”
He pursed his lips. “When a friend told me you were coming into the country, I had to wonder why I hadn’t heard about it first.”
“I contacted the leader of Los Nuevos.”
“He hasn’t owned this part of Mexico in a while,” Martinez’s wife and the mother of his children, Eva, as well as his right-hand woman, chided from her perch on the armrest of her husband’s throne. Her belly bulged like only someone deep into the throes of pregnancy could ever compete with.
I immediately knew to be wary around her—Rory looked to be the same size. My standoffish sister, normally cooler than a block of ice, possessed a gestational temper that had grown men weeping.
Hormones—women’s weapon of mass destruction.
I was not a fool and tiptoed very carefully around them: “How long is a while? News of a complete takeover has yet to hit the East Coast or naturally, I’d have reached out.”
“Be kind, querida,” Martinez said mildly. “We took control of the Yucatán Peninsula only recently.”
“We run the bulk of Mexico.” Eva jabbed the air with a finger. “You should have contacted us regardless.”
Because she was pissing me off, I growled, “I had other matters on my mind and was acting fast. I thought a text to the leader of this turf was adequate.
“Now that I’ve learned otherwise, I apologize, and if I need to visit again, I will run my plans by you first—as much as I’d expect you to do the same with our council if you planned on entering New York.
“The second I’m back home, you have my assurance that I’ll let our council know of the change in demarcated territory and will pass this on to our allies in the States.”
Because she was a gnarly bitch, Eva didn’t appear impressed by my concession or my warning.
Ignoring me entirely, she handed a piece of paper to her husband, who studied it then passed it to me.
“She’s very pretty.”
When he showed me a picture of Kitty disembarking the plane earlier, my nostrils flared in agitation at the silent threat. “Leave her out of this.”
“Why? Isn’t she Irish Mob? If you’re bringing a turf war onto our territory, then we should know.”
“I’m allied with the Irish,” I corrected. “There is no turf war—”
“So, why are you sitting with a daughter of the Irish Mob while entering our territory?”
Martinez released a laugh. “I don’t think it’s a battle he has in mind, Eva.”
She sneered. “I’m sure he doesn’t, but I’d still prefer that whatever he does with his so-called ally happens on someone else’s patch.”
“Ah, women,” Martinez jeered. “They don’t realize we’re the romantic ones, Custanzu.”
“Stan,” I corrected. Then, recalling the times we’d worked together over the years, I continued, “Fuck, you haven’t changed, Martinez. It’s your way or the highway if the highway still has the same signs as it did ten years ago!”
He merely arched a brow. “Stan, Eva is right. You should woo this ally elsewhere. Mexico is not as safe as I’d like at the moment. Why her family allowed her to visit is beyond me.”
“If Los Nuevos are no more, then Mexico is yours. I’d have thought you had the other factions under control?”
“We do. But our rule remains volatile and they don’t appreciate new leadership.”
Which meant that for all he played at sitting on a fucking throne, a goddamn civil war brewed in a city where my angel partied while I was stuck playing politics.
I’d promised her a gun, and now she was in confirmed danger and without a weapon.
FUCK.
“As you can imagine,” Eva proclaimed. “The last thing we want is a daughter of the Irish Mob being taken while the situation remains fractious.”
Porca troia, daughter of the Irish Mob, my ass.
Soon, she’d be a wife of the Sicilian fucking Famigghia if I had anything to say about it.
“If this meeting is over,” I bit off, “then I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Her safety is my priority.”
Martinez’s fingers toyed with his wife’s hair. “Perhaps you should bring her here.”
“What? Why?”
Eva lounged against her husband’s side. “Her sisters, too. I see that you failed to mention them.”
“Look, the trip here was their idea. That must be obvious. Who flies off for a sexcapade with younger sisters in tow? You know better than I do how many Americans visit Cancún for spring break—”
“We know well enough. Still, we’d hate to be rude. The Frasier daughters might not be high up the ranks, but their association with the leadership of the Five Points as well as your apparent fixation with one of them speaks of their position,” Eva taunted.
“I agree.” Martinez watched on with indulgent delight, as his wife reeled me in like the kipper I wasn’t.
“What’s really going on here? If I didn’t know that I had to contact you to enter the Yucatán Peninsula, then three women with loose ties to the Irish Mob wouldn’t either. I texted Hector Menendez and informed him we were coming—”
“You should have made it your business to know how deep our revolution has spread,” Martinez countered. “Contacting Menendez could be construed as a breach in our alliance.”
I could feel the vein in my forehead throb.
“If we’re not as transparent as we could be,” Eva slipped in, “then perhaps that’s because you’re as opaque as the marble floor.”
Martinez spread his hands wide. “Come, you two, we’re friends. Let’s lose the hostile tones. Now that you’re here, you present us with an interesting evening, Stan. We shall invite the Frasier sisters along. Protection and pleasure—nothing says they can’t be intertwined.”
Before I could say a fucking word, he clicked his fingers at someone who scuttled along like the sycophant he was.
“If you hurt her, Martinez,” I warned. “Our friendship won’t matter.”
A slow smile crawled over his lips. “My wife is rarely wrong, Stan. Thank you for the reminder.”
And there I had it—confirmation that I’d just walked into a fucking trap.