Attraction, desire, and sinfully beautiful, Mika Santana is a devil with the face of an angel. Despite her tragic past, she's never given up her ruthless pursuits for success and vengeance which leaves little to no room for matters of the heart. But...
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One light illuminates the street as Gato, Limon, Pacho, and Mateo lead the way to the abandoned building. Ivory white bricks are chipped, revealing the original mixture of red on the walls. Graffiti is scattered on every inch of the structure. From an outside view alone, my stomach twists with uneasiness.
I fucking hate this.
Respect is a fine line in the cartel industry. One false swoop and everyone will flock, run, backstab as if our association meant nothing. If I'm speaking honestly, my capos wouldn't care if I live or die. They respect me because of Mateo, so in short, they really only treat me like Jefe because of him. I'm the lowest of the low. Any other individual is better than the scared, callow twenty-one-year-old.
Eeriness rolls down my spine like a coat of sweat. Bruno is distributing his portion of cocaine to Diablo's associates. Mika's minor revelation had not only enhanced my trust in her but given the upper hand to my familia. The Barrera cartel has expanded worldwide, taking the routes my brother created without a single consequence.
That's finally come to an end.
It started with Bolivar.
Now, we are going for the head of their distributing position. It would've been a full-proof plan if it isn't for me. Every step brought my body closer to the edge, struggling to keep my composure. Mateo leads the charge. Proving once again how much of a better Jefe he would be if he were in my position.
"Remember the main objective: we either kidnap Bruno or kill him," Mateo whispers, clenching his pistol. "We can't let him get away."
Also, Bruno just so happens to be Barrera's youngest son.
Gato smirks, tapping his gun against Mateo's chest. "Leave it to me. Voy a meter mi arma tan adentro de su trasero que rogara por le muerte."
(I'm going to stick my gun so far up his ass he'll beg for death.)
Pacho rolls his eyes, knocking Gato on the backside of his head. "Concéntrate. O vas a ser tú el que muera."
(Concentrate. Or you're going to be the one who gets killed.)
We maneuver to the second level of the building, observing the drug exchange. Mateo and I establish this attack, a tactic for every possible solution. But now, standing a few feet away from my enemies, I've omitted everything. It's like my brain is wiped clean by a magic spell. While the others carry their pistols in hand, mine is still attached to my waist.
The primary mission is to do anything to get Bruno, but I don't want to be the one to pull the trigger. Diablo's associates finish loading their barrels of cocaine onto the back of the truck, supplies enough to last a few months. But it wouldn't. The haze is extreme, and we needed to use it to our advantage.
Mateo motions to transfer over to the ground floor and begin our ambush. While crouching under the box towers, Mateo pokes his head out to see Bruno's attention elsewhere. My eyes wander to the corner, catching a glimpse of a Barrera weaving his way through the row of boxes. My blood runs cold as our eyes connect. Everything grows silent as the only thing filling my ears is my increasing heart rate.
