Chapter 20 Stan #2
As I watched his hand hover beside his shoulder, I glanced around, wondering who that signal had been aimed at. Kitty, unaware, murmured, “I did check the State Department’s website, sir—” When Eva let loose a chuckle, Kitty swallowed. “In retrospect, it was na?ve of me to presume—”
“Your brothers didn’t advise you?” Martinez inquired, but his tone was less aggressive than I might have expected.
Which, of course, was when I remembered he had younger sisters—he was used to their mayhem.
Thank fuck for that.
Neev, Raisin, and Kitty glanced at one another, each with increasing levels of desperation.
“We, um, didn’t tell them we were coming to Mexico.”
Eva gaped at them, while Martinez pinched the bridge of his nose. But before either could comment, servers poured out from two doors at the top of the room, placing a myriad of dishes on the table.
As they worked, he rattled something off to Eva, whose mouth tightened.
Once the servers disappeared into the kitchen, I jerked in surprise when Kitty moaned. Despite my irritation with the whole goddamn situation, I felt that fucking moan rattle through me, giving me the beginnings of yet another public erection.
She pointed to a large, colorfully glazed bowl. “Is that pozole blanco?”
“You know your Mexican food.” Martinez applauded, though I could tell he was still annoyed with her.
I didn’t blame him.
I was too.
“God, I used to live on this stuff when I was in college.”
As Kitty spoke, she ladled the lightly-colored broth into a bowl set to her left, making me realize the staff had presented the meal in the le service à la francaise style because not only were there soups and dishes spread over the table, but arroz con leche and jugs of what appeared to be horchata cozied up to a cornucopia of tacos.
“You went to college in Mexico?” Eva displayed her knife skills as she cut up cortadillo with a butcher’s precision.
“No. But one of my best friends in nursing school was Mexican. One Christmas, she brought me a bowl of this when I was sick and I swear it’s the only reason I got through finals.
After that, whenever I caught a cold or anything, Beatriz would bring me some.
” Her sweet smile grew sad. “She died in a car crash a few weeks before we graduated.”
Eva, for once pretending to be a regular human being, murmured, “That’s tragic.”
Kitty bowed her head. “She’d have made a great nurse.”
“To Beatriz,” Martinez toasted softly, lifting his glass. The men around us did the same, making Kitty release a gentle laugh.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she chided with a sheepish grin. “It’s not like you knew her.”
“A fallen sister is a fallen sister.” He tipped his glass at her. “You’ll have to tell us who prepared it better. Beatriz or our chefs.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, it’s not a competition—”
Martinez smiled. “I’m teasing you, Kitty.”
“You and your men typically eat at one AM?” I inquired, taking the spotlight off her because she gave a rabbit in headlights a run for its money.
“Sometimes later,” Eva said primly. “Do you work a regular nine-to-five, Custanzu?”
“I suppose not. But neither do I eat at this time in the morning.” I guessed I used to, but that was a thing of the past.
“It’s good for camaraderie to have your highest ranks close to you when you eat. Breeds loyalty. You could use some of that. I understand there have been issues with the Albanians in New York.”
I could practically feel the sisters’ ears twitching. From eavesdropping on their brothers’ conversation, I had gained the impression that they didn’t involve the Frasier women in business.
That didn’t mean they weren’t nosy.
I kept it succinct: “The Albanians are scum.”
“When I ruled over my little slice of heaven in the city,” Martinez said almost wistfully. “I was accused of being scum, too.”
“You were never scum.” Eva whacked his arm with a spoon. “You have honor, carino.”
Her husband, back to smiling now, pressed his lips to her knuckles. “I’ve behaved like a goon in my time, querida.”
“And I haven’t?” They shared a private smirk. “You were never scum.”
Martinez conceded with a dip of his chin, but I backed her up. “While I wasn’t around during your reign, we only ever heard good things about you. Never mind how you turned your turf in LA around. The Albanians are like rabid dogs. They run around as if their behavior has no consequence.”
“Desperation often makes one think there are no consequences. To survive is to thrive,” Kitty inserted softly.
I wasn’t the only one who turned to her with lifted brows. Neev, however, muttered around a massive taco, “How much vodka did you drink tonight?”
“Not that much. And it was tequila. Mostly.”
Neev snagged the bowl of soup that had sent Kitty into raptures and sniffed at it. “Maybe I need some of this because I can’t decide if I’m in the middle of a fever dream or coming down from two too many shots of Jagermeister.”
“It’s definitely not a fever dream, Neev,” Raisin said wryly as, with precise cuts, she delved into some meatballs in a bright orange sauce.
Martinez studied the three sisters with a glint in his eye that I didn’t appreciate, mostly because his wife did the same. Everyone knew she didn’t share, so their interest wasn’t sexual—that meant it was business.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re eating, my friend.”
“So we are. I just don’t understand why.”
“You Americans are so rude.”
“Firstly, I’m Sicilian. Secondly, you’re American, Martinez.” I scoffed. “Thirdly, as much as I appreciate the food and I’m sure it’s delicious, it would digest better if I understood the lay of the land.”
“Eat and I will explain…” Martinez glanced pointedly at my empty plate. “What do you know of Voz Nacional?”
Begrudgingly, I picked up a taco. “The political party?”
“Sí.”
“Why?” At Martinez’s wafted hand, I rolled my eyes. “Not a lot. My business is on the East Coast, not Mexico. My sister would know better. She makes it a policy to understand whatever matters affect those we have dealings with.”
“A smart woman, your sister. I like her,” Eva inserted.
“Most women think she’s a bitch.”
That led to Eva huffing. “‘Bitch’ is such an unimaginative label. Why is she a bitch? Because she doesn’t lick ass? Because she’s strong and empowered and goes toe to toe with rich, powerful men who have tiny dicks?
“‘Bitch’ is a badge of honor; one I wear with pride.”
“Me too,” Kitty mumbled, earning an approving nod from Eva.
“Well, she’s those things and more. Why do you think she’s the first female Consigliere in New York and Vegas history? My brother’s no fool.”
“Many were surprised that you were only his Capo.”
“I’m not only anything, Martinez,” I argued, dropping the taco. “Luc knows which side his bread is buttered. A politician, I’m not. As I’ve already told you and you’ve already seen from our interactions tonight.”
The older man hummed but finally stopped dicking me around. “We would like access to your drug.”
“Access?”
I refrained, barely, from glancing over at Kitty, whose eyes were fixed on me.
The last thing I wanted her to know was that I’d created an illegal erectile dysfunction drug that had led to the death of innocents.
Didn’t take a genius to figure out that would go down as well as Jagermeister on Dramamine.
“Yes, access.” Martinez directed the words at me, but his focus lingered on Kitty.
A smile danced on his lips. Figghiu ri buttana.
He knew I wanted Red kept on the down-low.
“While I’m sure smuggling it across the border would be simple enough, as it’s not on any watchlists yet, I’d prefer to open a line of production on Mexican soil. ”
“Why? You know what it does.”
“I know the control it allows someone with the recipe to have,” Martinez corrected as he leaned forward. “My country is as corrupt as yours is above the border, filled with politicians who make your Albanian problem look like a case of the common cold and not the syphilitic pustules they are—”
“Those politicians are also the reason you’re in power, no?”
I froze at Raisin’s question, but Eva laughed. “Perhaps, but that doesn’t make it right, does it?”
With all eyes on the shy one, Raisin straightened her shoulders. “No. But if you fix the problem, then there’s no space for you.”
“Genial. I retired a long time ago. I had no desire to bounce back and be in this position.” He wafted a hand at the palatial home he’d brought us to.
“Unfortunately for me, I’m very good at what I do and with Eva at my side, we’re unstoppable.
In a few short years, we’ve dominated this nation, have come to rule over it with an iron fist, but in its current state, this is not a country I want my children to be raised in. Do you understand me?”
“So this is about blackmail?” I scorned.
Eva dipped her chin. “How can we affect change if the government is dirtier than we are?”
“Won’t that lead to your annihilation?” Raisin questioned.
Martinez shrugged. “Not for a long time to come and by that point, we will have forged a different path for those I call hermano.”
“So, this is a game for the presidency?”
He chortled. “No.”
Eva, on the other hand, stated, “Yes.”
Martinez, for the first time, glared at his wife. “Eva, we discussed this—”
“We did, and we disagreed on how right you’d be for the job. You are magnetic, mi esposo. You gather people around you as easily as if you were a siren. Look at what you’ve achieved in a few short years—the country bows before you—”
“I never asked for that. I’m quite happy in the shadows, protecting my people from predatory billionaires looking to become trillionaires.”
“And that’s why they do. They know your worth. We already know what the Irish are trying to do above the border—”
“I’m not Irish,” I cut in. “I have no idea of their methodology, but I do know they keep their hands clean of my product.”
Eva snorted. “You really are no politician, are you? Do you read the news?”
“No. I’m more interested in my work.” My gaze flatlined. “As I said, you should be talking with my sister—”
“And unfortunately for me, she was not the Valentini sibling foolish enough to traipse into my territory without an invitation,” Martinez inserted, then his mouth twisted.
“Through our debt to the Camorra—” I’d forgotten Martinez had a problem with Hunter.
“—we are allied with you, and allies meet and discuss their plans for the future.
“With your sister whispering in the ear of the Camorran Don and the Famigghia, the new Russian movement shifting control over the continent, and the Irish’s sudden shift into commerce and politics as they sniff around the White House, this is the dawn of a new age, and Mexico wants to be a part of that.
” He leveled me with a glacial look, then his focus shifted to Kitty.
“But I’ve talked long enough about business.
It’s late and the food has helped succumb us to sleep.
I’m sure you would like some rest. Rooms have been made available for you—”
“We're staying in a hotel,” Raisin squeaked.
“I’m sure that our home outweighs anything a beach resort can provide,” Eva inserted as she surged to her feet, Martinez shifting behind her to pull aside her chair.
When his lips found her knuckles again, their contretemps over, she drawled, “Feel free to follow me and I’ll show you to your suites. ”
Kitty’s hand found my lap. When she pinched my knee, under my breath, I muttered, “You need to go along with this.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw her lips purse.
As I, too, got to my feet, my chair dragging against the floor, I gave her time to urge her sisters into compliance by holding out my hand to the man currently pulling my strings. “I appreciate your hospitality.”
“I’d hate to disappoint. Mi casa es su casa.”
Eva groaned. “If we’re done with the trite bullshit, maybe we can head to bed?”
Chuckling, Martinez passed my cell to me after shaking my hand, and I stepped away from the table and helped Kitty stand. Raisin popped upright like bread in a toaster, her agitation loud and clear, while Neev was back to fluttering her lashes at Miguel Martinez, who offered her his arm.
Uncertain if this night could get any stranger, I returned Kitty’s hand to the crook of my elbow and, begrudgingly, we trudged after Eva Martinez.
I didn’t appreciate dancing to anyone’s tune but my family’s—and that wasn’t always willingly—however, I knew when I was outnumbered.
And more importantly, I knew that I’d do anything to keep Kitty safe.
Even if that meant making an enemy out of the unofficial leader of Mexico.
Or dancing to his tune for the night.