Page 20 of Whiskey

“Are we here to talk about him or the job you want us to take on?” Alejandro tried to steer him back on course.

“I need five white and three exotics.” He wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “Women between sixteen and nineteen. Nothing older. No track marks. I want clean, and I need them by this weekend.” I shook my head and chuckled and wondered who he thought he was. His gaze quickly turned nasty at me. “I was told you could do the job.”

“We can, we can,” Alejandro assured him with a smile, “but you want these girls in three days? Man, we need at least four.” Alejandro held his ground.

“I could just shoot you and your gringo instead.” He smirked, and I decided it was time to speak up.

“Or I could just call Denton Barlow?” I spoke in perfect Spanish and watched his brows go up when he realized I could understand everything the entire time. I lifted an eyebrow back at him and rubbed a hand over my thick beard. I hated my beard, but it hid my facial expressions well. I looked young without it, and I needed to look old and weathered if I wanted any respect around here. It was the curse of my light skin.

“He’s dead. Prison shakedown.”

I smirked. “That’s what they want you to believe.” I gnawed on the toothpick I held between my teeth and felt sweat roll down my back. It was unbearably hot now, and the lack of breeze in this shit-smelling room didn’t help. I caught Alejandro’s gaze and shook my head slightly, so he’d look away.

“And how do you know Denton?” The man turned to see me better.

“He’s my cousin. He’s the one who got me into this business, and he’s the one who can take you out of it with one phone call.” I leaned forward to make my point. “We’re good to make the extraction. You know that because you’re here. But what you want is impossible in the time you’re asking for. Like my buddy said, four days max and we’ll have them for you. They’ll be clean girls, top of the line, and ready for you to take back to wherever the hell you crawled out from.” I used a rag and wiped my forehead.

“Three days.”

“Look, I don’t give a shit if you want this deal or not. I have other clients who know who I am and what I’m capable of. So, if you’re done wasting my time, I’m done drowning in a pool of sweat while you demand something I can’t give.” I wanted to get out of this sweatbox of a room. When I stood, my men stood along with me, and we left the asshole to chew over what he wanted to do.

I walked the alley between the two buildings. I hated taking the streets because every local with some type of shell shit they’d glued or tied together wanted to make a few bucks from the tourists. They always tried to hit me up like I was here for spring break. I shook my head and wondered for the thousandth time what people did with that junk once they got it back home.

“Hey, I thought Denton was dead,” Filippo, one of my newest guys, asked as he raced to keep up with his short legs.

“Yeah, he is, but that shithead doesn’t have to know that,” Alejandro explained as he walked with us. “He needs to think there’s a small possibility he isn’t. Stuff like that keeps us at the top of the tree.” He tapped his head. “The fact that Eric is Denton’s cousin helps us, dead or alive. That blood tie keeps the amateurs away.”

At the end of the alley, I stopped near a vendor and turned on the hose next to him. I let the cool water run down over my head and back. I ignored the vendor’s offer of a towel as I turned off the tap.

“And here we go.” Alejandro held up his phone, and I motioned for him to answer it. He stepped away while Filippo stood guard. He was young and smart; I’d picked him up at the border after watching him attempt to make some fast cash. I liked the way he worked. He learned fast and kept his head down. I’d tested him a few times since with cash laying around and a few expensive items left here and there. He never bit, so I took him under my wing and somewhat trusted him to have my back.

“Four days, eight girls, and we’ve made mega money.” Alejandro grinned as he tossed me a shirt from a vendor’s rack and handed the guy a bill. I knew these locals made very little. A lot of the guys who worked Rosarito would just take what they wanted, but I didn’t do business that way. I found it helped to keep the locals friendly. Because…

“Mr. Noah, maybe have a look.” The vendor handed me the phone I’d given him awhile back and pointed for me to skim the photos he’d taken. It was important for me to know if anyone was encroaching on my territory. I worked hard to build my business here and had proven myself time and time again to the Castillo family I worked under. They were ranked pretty high in the Cartel, and I intended to make sure I kept my seat at the table at the end of the day. Trafficking was a competitive business, and if you were smart, there was a lot of money to be made.

“Shit,” I cursed in English when I looked at the photos. Juan and his three dumbass goons could be seen as they scoped out the spring break crowd. I knew they would be on the lookout for those who were well dressed and looked like they had money. I shook my head. You needed to be smart with who you plucked off the street. They had to be nobodies, wanderers, or at the very least girls who you could tell were on the run. It didn’t take much talk to figure out which ones were safe to take.

“Are they still here?”

“Sí, they are staying over there.” He pointed to a rundown building most tourists avoided.

“Alejandro, take Filippo and flush them out,” I ordered and took a seat on an upside-down bucket and lit a joint. I didn’t do the dirty work unless I had to. I’d learned early on to keep my hands clean of everything I could.

They rushed off, and I handed the phone back to the owner.

“Take a seat.” I nodded.

“Sí, gracias.” He did as he was told and tried to relax. I pulled a pile of cash from my wallet and dropped some on his table.

“You did good, so I reward you. See, I keep my promises.”

“Sí, gracias,” he repeated and tucked the money away.

“If you have any trouble, you let me know,” I added. I liked the owner. I chose not to learn his name. Names were connections, and I sure didn’t need any.

“Sí.” He nodded as he stood and stepped aside when my guys pulled Juan and the others over behind some cars. I whisked over to them and pointed my gun at Juan’s head.

“Why are you here, Juan? Looking for a death wish?”

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