Page 46 of Utah

Carrillo walked around to the front of his desk and leaned against the edge, his cane assisting in keeping him upright.

“Sometimes my nephew does things his own way. I can’t control him.” His blasé tone ramped up my simmering anger all over again. “He’s got a mind of his own, you know?” He made a clicking noise with his mouth like that of a parent explaining away their kid’s temper tantrum. “You can talk to Javier if you want. He should be here any moment.”

No sooner had he uttered those words than his nephew strolled into the office, looking even more smug than his uncle.

He ignored all of us and moved toward Rafael, whispering something in his ear before finally turning his attention to us. He glanced at me first, then looked straight at Marek. The two men stood ten feet apart, and if I had to guess, I’d wager Marek wanted to rip his goddamn heart out. I knew I did.

“Have you come to grovel?” he asked, his accent softer than his uncle’s.

He, like the rest of the men except for his uncle, was dressed in all black. The jagged scar near his right temple contorted with every subtle change in his expression as he took a step closer to Marek, standing several inches shorter than the president of our California charter.

“No. I’ve come to meet with your uncle. The one in charge.”

Javier scowled at the reminder he wasn’t the head of the cartel. “My uncle trusts me to run things.”

If his statement was true, Rafael was aware of what his nephew had been doing and didn’t care. Which essentially was the same thing as him signing off on our deaths. Crash was the first. Who would be next?

Rafael put his hand on Javier’s shoulder and squeezed. He said something to him in their native tongue, and whatever it was had a calming effect on Javier.

“You still haven’t told me what proof you have that my nephew was behind any of the stuff that happened, other than the junkie that got killed.”

Stuff? He classified Crash’s murder as stuff?

Stone witnessed the quick change in my posture, because he bumped his shoulder with mine. When our eyes collided, he frowned and shook his head.

I ignored his silent warning and pointed at Javier. “Your lackey, the bald fucker with the tattoo above his eye, and another guy were the ones who kidnapped me and another member. He said you wanted to take out our club all at once, but it was him who convinced you to do it piece by piece. They started with our brother and would’ve killed me too if not for our club showing up.”

“How do you know Ricardo didn’t go rogue?” Rafael asked. This was the first time I’d heard the bald guy’s name. “Perhapshe ignored Javier’s orders.” He refused to lay any blame at his nephew’s feet.

“You know he didn’t,” Prez answered.

Rafael shrugged, seemingly bored with our conversation. “Okay, he didn’t. But he’s dead. Killed by your men, I hear. So, what now?”

“Now we end this. Enough bloodshed.” Marek didn’t disguise the anger in his voice.

“How do I know you won’t retaliate for the one of you who died?”

“If you agree to end this now, put your nephew back on a leash,” Marek said, “then I give you my word we won’t make a move against you or any of your men.”

Rafael appeared as if he considered Marek’s deal, and for a moment, I thought perhaps we’d walk out of here alive.

But then everything changed when the leader of the Los Zappas raised his gun and pointed it at Marek.

“That won’t work for me.”

His words were the cue for his men to raise their weapons at the rest of us.

“Fuck,” Stone mumbled.

Marek and Prez retreated a step.

Brick’s gaze smashed into mine, the defeated look on his face exacerbating the thrumming of my heart.

Ria’s face popped into my head as I released all hope I’d ever see her again.

26

Sleep evaded me as I tossed and turned. I’d gone to bed two hours prior but hadn’t slept a wink because Utah was on my mind. I didn’t know what I’d do if he never came back. “Don’t think like that,” I mumbled to myself. I didn’t want to reside in negativity, but the chances were high that I’d never see him again.

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