Page 36 of Savage Fire

It wasn’t a coincidence his brother, the Calderone Cartel leader was contacting him after the Stonecutters came to the Savage Raiders with information about trouble with the Medev Bratva and Mendoza Cartel, now, apparently close contenders in the race to hook everyone in the US on high grade drugs. Cocaine. Meth. Heroin. They sold what sold the quickest and for the highest prices. And they were territorial. Was Jorge looking to move his operation into Nevada and onto the Medev-Mendoza turf? Sure as shit, no matter why he was calling after seven years, Jorge was mixed up in something, and he wanted to use Fang for some purpose as of yet unknown.

“Important?” Fang snarled. “What’s important to you means fuck all to me. Whatever the fuck you want, you can just forget including me. I am out of organized crime, I’m living clean and easy, and there’s nothing you can say or do that will bring me back. Nothing you can offer me that will good enough to turn me back into that bastard I left behind on the floor in that asshole’s office.”

Jorge hummed, a nasty sound that made all the hairs on Fang’s arms and neck stand on end.

“I just called to give you a fair shot at a piece of something you’ll find irresistible,” Jorge practically purred, like anything he had to offer would mean anything to Fang.

“No, thanks,” Fang growled. “Like I said, there’s nothing you can say or do that would make me crawl my ass back into the cesspool that is the Calderone Cartel.”

Fang’s reply was met with heavy, ear-splitting silence. For a moment, Fang thought Jorge had disconnected, but then the man breathed words that made Fang’s heart skip a beat.

“Every man has something he would do anything for. Don’t think I won’t find yours,lobezno.”

That name. A name that had spawned his road name. The “wolfling” became “Fang.”Lobezno. A name he hadn’t heard in too long, but not long enough. Before Fang could utter another word, Jorge hung up, leaving Fang holding the cellphone in his clenched fist, and a world of ripening fear in his mind.

Jorge Calderone slammed his cell down onto the desk and grit his teeth.

Pinche cabron!Fucking bastard.

He knew contacting Javier after so many years would be like raising the angry dead, but he had no other choice. If he couldn’t draw Javier back into the fold and get him in line, Jorge could lose everything he’d been building for ten fucking years.

“Manny!” he barked, watching the hotel suite door to see the large man hurry into the room, his eyes wide and anxious. Rarely did Jorge raise his voice, so Manny was a little disconcerted. No matter.

“Bring the bird. I want to make sure her cage is secure and she’s behaving,” he commanded, feeling the tension headache that was pounding in his head before his call to Javier spread down into his neck and shoulders.

Dammit!

This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He never wanted to contact Javier; he’d been more than willing to keep his promise to the man. To function without him, as though he was dead. Javier had kept his end of the bargain, killing thatputoJose, his father, because Jorge couldn’t get close without the lieutenants getting antsy. So, he’d sent in Javier, the whorehouse bastard, to get close toEl Jefe. To gain his trust, then to shoot him dead.

It had worked, and Javier had walked away with nothing but the clothes on his back, a small satchel, and his clean passport. True to his word, Javier never dipped his toe into crime again, and Jorge had never once contacted him, going so far as to actually remove him from Cartel databases as though he never actually existed.

Until Jorge came up against something he couldn’t complete without Javier Lopez.

Motherfuck, this was humiliating. Humbling—and Jorge Calderone would never be goddamn humble. It wasn’t in his DNA.

But now, he was stuck dealing with an angry, bitter, complacent man determined to keep all cut ties frayed.

When he’d first met Javier, the boy was anhijo di puta, scrawny, scrappy, and distrusting. He’d been living in one of the Calderone-owned bordellos with his mother, who’d been working there since before even Jorge was born. That day, when he’d first set eyes on the scrappy rat, Jose had gone to the bordello to speak to the madam who’d been overcharging clients, giving the cash runners their usual percentage, and keeping the extra for herself. That day, Jose had made an example of the madam, slicing her from neck to cunt and leaving her body in the bordello courtyard for all the women to see. That day, ten-year-old Javier Lopez had seen blood for the first time. That day, Jorge had seen a glint of something…dark in Javier’s eyes, somethingEl Jefehad seen as well. That day, Jose had informed Javier’s mother, Ana, that he would return when the boy was fifteen.

Five years later, Jose returned to collect the boy, who’d quickly grown from a scrawny, scrappy child into a wiry, cautious young man. Jose took the boy with every intention of training him up to be asoladadoin his personal army, but he quickly realized where Javier’s true skills lied. Keeping women compliant, something he’d learned from his years living among sex workers, workers who’d taught them everything they knew about pleasure, pleasing a woman, and showing off a woman’s best assets. It wasn’t long before Javier was the number one flesh peddler in Colombia, El Salvador, and Argentina.

And Jorge wondered what Javier would be willing to do to keep hisbrothersfrom learning all about that.

Jorge grinned to himself, a plan forming in his mind.

Dragging herself from her car, Tessa slammed the door and cursed. She really shouldn’t have worked her arms so hard because now she was feeling it. Her muscles both screamed and ached, which meant her shift in the morning was going to be brutal, especially since using her arms was kind of a necessity.

Yeah, her body was angry with her for beating it to shit, but she was glad that she’d had the space to work off all the emotions building inside her. At first, she’d been wary about going to the club-owned gym, the same gym Fang managed. But a short call to the receptionist told her that he was out on club business for the day. That meant Tessa could go, burn off all the anger and hate she felt for the man without the man actually being there to add fuel to the fire of her pain.

It had been a week since that disaster of a date, and Fang’s disgusting offer. A full week of sleepless nights curled up in her bed, sobbing. A full seven days of poring over her memories, wondering where she went wrong, where she had missed the signs that Fang was grooming her to be a consort in his modern harem.

Before she could turn to walk toward the four stairs to the condo front door, something heavy and hard slammed against the back of her head, sending her the concrete where she landed on her knee. Her bad knee. Crying out, she didn’t have time to recover before another blow landed against her side, forcing the wind from her lungs. She grunted, trying to roll over, to get back to her knees, so she could get up the fuck up and fight back. Dazed, her breathing shallow from the pain in her ribs, she knew she had to get up. Her mind was a riot of confusion, anger, fear. What the hell was going on? A hand snatched her ponytail, yanking it hard. Another hand wrapped around her throat.

Startled, in pain, and terrified, she whimpered when a hot, nasty voice rasped against her ear, “Not so tough, are you?”

She didn’t recognize the voice. The man’s breath was rank, stinking of cigarettes and lunch.

“Nah, she ain’t so tough. The fat bitch prolly thinks she can take us,” another voice drawled, then cackled.

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