Page 120 of Drawn Blue Lines

Cristiano smirked. “Patience, Brenda.”

I glared at Val. “Screw first, I just want to be last.”

“Stop it!” Val roared. “My sister and son are missing. I want them back. I don’t give a shit if it’s you…” He shouted, pointing to me. “…you…” He swung his finger toward Cristiano. “…you…” He tossed a nod over his shoulder at Mateo. “…or the goddamn tooth fairy who makes it happen. When they’re safe, you two cabrones can beat the hell out of each other for all I care, but until then, shut the fuck up!”

Cristiano’s face paled. “Mari is missing?”

I didn’t bother to correct him. “Along with Val’s son, Santiago. They disappeared sometime last night.”

“No, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

The sudden shift in his demeanor set me on edge. “What wasn’t supposed to happen? Do you know something, Vergara? I swear to Christ, if you had something to do with—”

“How could I have had something to do with it?” he snapped, a razor’s edge away from losing control. “Your boss’s men ran me off the road into an embankment. I’m good, but I’m not that damn good.”

What the hell?

I glanced at Val, who simply nodded.

“Ignacio,” I said, speaking the one name on everyone’s mind.

Cristiano laughed. “I guess I can cross running from a homicidal parent off my bucket list.” A dark haze crossed his face. “That asshole has kept me in a dirty warehouse for days until I managed to overtake a couple of his stupider guards and stole a car. I was trying to find Mari when I was given an unwanted escort.”

Stopping his pace, Val swung around, his fists locked by his side. “You’re Ignacio Vergara’s son.”

The room fell deathly silent as Cristiano closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with short rapid breaths. When he opened them, the earlier arrogance was gone, replaced by dull acceptance. “Yes.”

Mateo shot to his feet. “Does anyone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“My father was a son of a bitch who left my mother pregnant and shamed,” he ground out, cracking the surface of his façade. “Even as a boy, I knew I’d find him and make him pay. Watching my grandfather reject both of us, condemning her to a life of disgrace, and forcing a child to become a man to ensure our survival kind of sealed the deal.”

Crossing his arms, Mateo circled around him, his stoic expression firmly in place. “I take it he didn’t approve?”

Cristiano barked out a dry laugh. “Only pure blue Irish blood deserved Ronan Kelly’s kindness. When contaminated by a lower-class Latino, the only thing it deserved was to be spilled.”

Catching movement out of the corner of my eye, I saw Val’s face morph from blank indifference to shock to blackened rage. “¡Qué chingados! You’re Ronan Kelly’s grandson?”

“The Northside Sinners,” I added.

Ice shot through my veins. I heard the words and each one clawed into my head, digging through facades and lies until all that was left was a stripped away version of my own blindness.

Ronan Kelly. Cristiano Vergara. Ignacio Vergara. Esteban Muñoz. The Northside Sinners. Chicago port alliances. Missing shipments.

They all linked with one name.

Carlos Cabello.

Val’s stare didn’t stray from Cristiano’s face. “Ronan Kelly hates cartels. It’s why the Carreras have never fucked with the Midwest. It’s the one policy my father and I agreed on. Kelly never had a son—only two daughters, so we decided to bide our time until the old bag of shit croaked, and then strong arm his daughters into opening up their ports.”

“My mother is a good woman,” Cristiano hissed, his tone dangerously close to a challenge.

I’d give it to him—Cristiano Vergara had a pair of iron balls and didn’t give two shits about juggling them in front of Valentin Carrera’s face. It was either the bravest thing I’d ever seen or the dumbest.

“My grandfather hates cartels,” he continued. “It was why Esteban sent my father to Chicago. He didn’t give a shit if he ever made it back. But he lured him into forging a trade alliance with promises to make him a lieutenant.” His lips curled into a snarl. “Ignacio met my mother and assumed the way to his rank was through her.”

My head snapped up. This sounded too familiar.

“He got her pregnant and never returned to Chicago. She was shunned and forbidden to give me the Kelly name. That’s why I’m a Vergara.” He shot me a look. “Lucky me.”

---