Chapter Fifteen #2
“I know what you meant,” Lourdes cut in.
Her throat bobbed as she rubbed her palms against her legs as though to fortify her resolve.
“My father and first husband wrote the book on how to demean women. If the stunt you were referring to was Carly’s suggestion of where to hold my bachelorette party, then take it up with me.
Or my new husband, if you dare. After everything that’s happened in the last few days, I’ve learned that time is short.
Life is precious. Carlota is the sister I never had, and she deserves your respect. ”
A barely there smile curved Carlota’s mouth. She sat straighter and squeezed Lourdes’s hand.
To Manuel’s credit—or maybe his shame—he ducked his gaze and forked a bite of steak.
Once Lourdes settled back in her chair, Enrique leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Keep that bravery up, and I might fall even harder.”
“Then you should invest in a cushion.”
He laughed at his wife’s teasing and kissed her tempting lips. Her champagne-scented breath puffed across his face and snaked a shiver down his spine.
A loud buzz echoed throughout the room.
Enrique reached for his cell inside his jacket pocket, only to pause. After speaking with his lieutenants that morning to arrange his upcoming inspections, he’d turned the phone off for the day—a wedding gift to himself. In hindsight, that was probably a stupid idea.
“It’s mine.” Rubén checked the screen and pushed his chair back. “Excuse me.” He strode around the table and stepped out into the foyer.
The quiet, reticent click of the paneled double doors shutting behind Rubén clenched Enrique’s stomach as though someone fisted it. He forced his gaze back to Lourdes as she poured more fizzy champagne into her flute. The sound of clanking dishware and Manuel’s loud chewing penetrated his ears.
Finally, Rubén returned. Chips of ice had nothing on his glacier-hard eyes. “I need to speak with you. Now.” He stared straight at Enrique, then at Santiago and Domingo, before he pivoted away.
Mierda. Heaving out a sigh, Enrique clasped Lourdes’s shoulder gently to reassure her and followed his jefe out the doorway with his friends and Manuel in tow. Revulsion slicked his skin. Manuel should’ve stayed put.
Once Domingo closed the doors, Rubén let loose a string of curses. “I got a call from Lieutenant Muniz. The manager of La Estancia Roja reported a fire to the police. Arson,” he bit out, his voice rougher than gravel. “Zayas set fire to the building.”
Enrique sucked in a sharp breath. La Estancia Roja was his responsibility. Muniz should’ve contacted him—and probably did. He snatched his phone out and powered it up.
“No one was hurt, but the fire is still going.” Rubén rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. “Fire department is there. Police, too. News crews are already swarming. Muniz doesn’t know how serious the damage is.”
“Well, fuck.” Shaking his head, Santiago crossed his arms over his chest. “Here we thought Zayas would target the registry office to ruin the wedding. Instead, he’s going after our businesses. My club. Ricky’s brothel. I hate to say it, but it’s a smart move, as demented as it is.”
Three notifications beeped on Enrique’s phone. All from Muniz. Fury burned in his gut like a raging inferno.
La Estancia Roja thrived in the tolerance zone as one of the state’s most exclusive top-rated brothels.
Though it was legitimate on the surface and legally sanctioned under stiff regulations, the cartel used it to launder money earned from less-than-reputable sources.
Not that prostitution didn’t carry its own stigma.
“Cristo.” Manuel scrubbed his hand down his face. “What happens here reflects in the other plazas, Rubén. The sister companies back home in Navojoa need federal scrutiny like I need a rash on my ass.”
“And our businesses do?” Rubén snapped the rhetorical question.
“What exactly happened?” Enrique asked, forcing the conversation back on track.
The jefe fisted and flexed his hands. “Zayas showed up earlier tonight. Got drunk. Hit one of the girls. The bouncers tossed him out. They later saw him in the alley as he threw Molotov cocktails through the back windows. The surveillance cameras recorded everything; the police now have the footage.”
The words sucker-punched Enrique. Through sheer will, he kept upright and gnashed his teeth.
Every muscle in his body craved action. Retribution.
He wanted Zayas’s blood splattering his knuckles.
He wanted to bury his favorite blade deep into his enemy’s flesh.
But he’d brought all this on himself, his friends, his organization. All for the love of a woman. His woman.
As much as he despised it, Zayas deserved his own retribution.
Enrique had stolen the man’s bride. Broken the unwritten code. Humiliated him. And now? Zayas was burning down his world. One piece at a time.
Jaw aching, he rubbed his cheek to ease the sore muscles. “Detective Ibarra can only slow things down so much, but even he’s not going to smother two violent crimes within forty-eight hours of each other. This is my fault.”
Rubén snorted. “Damn right, but Lourdes doesn’t deserve a psycho like him as her husband. No woman should pay that price. I’ve called Ibarra. He’s at the crime scene with Muniz.”
“Domingo.” Enrique turned to the resident hacker. “Any luck on your end?”
The younger man shook his head. He leaned against the wall and tapped away on his smartphone.
“Zayas’s bank account still hasn’t been touched.
No charges to the credit cards. Since he’s going after our businesses, I’ll run facial recognition software on the surveillance feeds for each one in the city.
We might catch a break before he strikes again. ”
“Get to it,” Enrique ordered.
Thankfully, the hacker had either built or improved upon the existing surveillance systems for each cartel-owned front company in the city and several elsewhere, so he could enter the systems through the backend whenever he pleased.
Domingo nodded and pocketed his phone. “The search would go faster on my laptop. It’s in the car.” He stepped toward the exit, then stopped as Rubén raised his hand.
“Wait until after dinner,” Rubén instructed and swept his gaze toward each man.
“It’s not every day my best friend gets married.
Let’s go back in and try to relax. Keep the women calm and the conversation light.
” He scowled at Enrique. “Get back to your routine tomorrow. Your men need to see you keeping up with your responsibilities.”
No shit, he silently muttered, though he nodded in consent. As the others filed into the dining room, Enrique took up the rear. Tonight, he would love his wife as she deserved.
Tomorrow, he would join the war.