Page 30 of Savage Hero

Fuck this. I need to pick a fight, and not with Nyx. I usually go out on the prowl to find a halcon or some other street-level member from the Bogota cartel to terrorize. Disciplining someone that irked Father or Sergio works for me too, especially if I can use my knife. But as part of the planned counterstrike against Bogota, I’ve been banned from leaving the house. If someone from our rival cartel spots me, we will no longer have the element of surprise.

So I’m stuck in this fuck-off big house with no one to keep me company. Vito’s still hunting around for info on Nyx—he called me this morning with nothing to report but a few weak leads. Either he doesn’t have his head in the game, or Nyx is more accomplished at this assassin shit than I gave her credit for.

I do a two-hour gym session followed by a sauna. Then I go outside and play with my dogs. They’re more interested in the bandage around my thigh where Nyx plunged a fork into me than playing fetch though, and pretty soon I’m bored as fuck again.

So I go to see my father, hoping I can convince him that we don’t need Nyx around.

* * *

When I arrivein the master suite, the last thing I expect is to see Viv, my father’s mistress, piled on top of the old man. Thank God they’re not fucking—I’d have to boil my eyes in vinegar if I ever saw that.

“Am I interrupting?” I ask sourly as I stomp over the carpets, heading for the drinks trolley. I pour myself a whiskey, and then another for Viv. By the time I take it over to the bed, she’s perching on the edge, fixing her hair.

It’s bright red, sleek, and cropped just under her ears. I suppose she thinks it makes her blue eyes pop, but she’s wearing too much eye-makeup for that to be a possibility. She gasps theatrically and flutters her fake eyelashes at my bruised nose. “What does the other guy look like?”

I ignore her question. “Who told you?” I ask as I hand over the glass, my eyes shifting to Father.

“No one.” She wriggles her shoulders like a bird trying to fluff its feathers and then gives me another pout. “I came home early to surprise my Bryan.” Viv leans over and brushes her lips over my father’s mouth. “But I got a bigger surprise than him.” She faces me again, eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because Father needed his rest, not his hooker.” Viv barely bats an eyelash at my acerbic tone.

“Give us a minute, would you?” Bryan pats Viv’s thigh through her tight leather pants and gives her a weak smile. She throws herself on him and nuzzles his neck, giggling when he kisses her ear.

I look away, inhaling my whiskey and trying desperately not to let my irritation bubble up again. I don’t think I could bear another gym session today—Nyx’s injuries were strategic as fuck. I can’t squat because of the fork wound, and her bite marks on my bicep make lifting anything heavier than my dick an unpleasant experience. And I still get a pressure headache when I bend over on account of my healing nose.

As soon as Viv is out of earshot, my father says, “I told you not to leave the house.”

“I didn’t.”

His eyes move to my nose. I have bruises under my eyes, but he’s seen far worse. “Then who’d you have it out with? The fucking cook?”

“Vito,” I say, knowing he’d back me up in a heartbeat. “It was friendly, nothing for you to worry about. But whatI’mworried about is—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Father, we—”

“This about that Nick kid or whatever his name is?” Father squints at me and then gives a shallow laugh. “Course I don’t trust him. He’sbait.”

My mouth is suddenly dry. None of this came up when we had our meeting with the Cabreras, but it doesn’t take me long to put the pieces together.

“Bogota won’t like knowing an eyewitness is roaming around,” I say. “So you put him on the street and see who bites.”

If Father is pissed because I figured out his plan in all of two seconds, he doesn’t show it. He mastered his poker face back when he was in his early twenties when his father first started up the cartel. Back then, they used kids to transport drugs across the city after school. And until the first kid showed up dead, that gig was solid.

Father was one of them. It didn’t matter he was grandfather’s son—he had to prove himself just like everyone else.Just like I had to, decades later.

“It’s a bad idea.” I fold my arms, wincing a little when my bicep stretches Nyx’s bite marks. That reminds me—I need to get a fucking tetanus shot this evening. Doc’s been dodging my calls, but I swear I’ll send Vito to his fucking house if he doesn’t come see me. “There’s no way to know how this guy will react. Nick’s a nobody, Father. And he’s been inside our home. He could—”

Bryan’s laugh cuts me off. Father likes interrupting people. I guess it proves that no one’s opinion matters as much as his. I’ve learned to cope with it over the years—along with all the other shit cartel life keeps throwing my way.

“You really think we’d let him live long enough to talk? I just need to see one face, and it’ll be enough to declare war.”

Bogota are still claiming the drive-by had nothing to do with them. Cartels out here operate a little differently to what they did back in Colombia. We’re polite up here. We inch around each other, staying out of each other’s territories, and pretty much look the other way. There’s enough business to go around. Plus, everyone has plenty of sticks in the fire. We don’t just peddle coke—we make money off protection rackets all across Disney. Bogota trades arms and trafficks girls, and will peddle anything from cocaine to Fentanyl.

There’s enough for everyone if no one gets greedy.

But Bogota’s always been greedy.

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