Page 19 of More Than A Boss

It was impossible to see a man so helpless and vulnerable and not be moved. Zane went to Will and squeezed his shoulder, trying to offer support and reassurance.

“You and your family are my top priority, Will. We talked over the weekend about hiring a private investigator to help track down some of the players on the outside who seem to be assisting Christian. We also have a snitch on the inside who might be able to offer some help. Stay strong. Your family needs you!” he said encouragingly.

“I know, you’re right. I’ll do as you suggest. Thank you, Zane, and you too, Allie,” he said sincerely.

Allie was touched to be included. “You’re in very good hands with Mr. Dunn. Try not to let it consume you, Will,” she said maternally.

He fumbled in his back pocket to pull out a wallet and flipped it open to reveal three photographs in a row. The oldest child, age four, was in the first photo, the middle picture was of their two-year-old daughter, and third was of the youngest, a baby boy, just six months old. All had their mother’s beautiful dark eyes and complexion. All three were the picture of innocence. “How could you not let this consume you?” he said in anguish. “How, I ask you?”

“I don’t have an answer, Will. I am so terribly sorry this is happening,” Allie said sadly.

—

Camilla and her brother, Christian Silva, grew up in one of the poorest cities in northwest Mexico. The oldest of six children, Christian worshipped his mother and believed he alone shouldered the responsibility for keeping her safe from his abusive alcoholic father, Diego. As a young child, Christian had watched helplessly from the sidelines as his father brutally assaulted his mother, time and again, but had been too young and powerless to do anything about it. He swore to himself that, when he got big enough, he would kill his father. By the time he was ten years old, he had become involved in petty crimes—theft, breaking and entering—stealing and pawning whatever he could find. He was determined to save his mother and family from a life of poverty.

By the time he was twelve years old and entering puberty, he had already gained the attention of one of the minions for the organized crime cartel. Christian was tall for his age, fearless, smart, and good looking. When he turned 16, he was officially recruited into the organization and singled out by his superiors as showing the potential to rise quickly in the organization. In the early years, they tested him with small jobs like deliveries, threats, and picking up payoffs and bribe monies. He proved himself to be ruthless, bold, and ambitious.

He had begun to get in between his father and his mother and had taken several severe beatings for his trouble. At first, Diego would laugh and ridicule Christian, saying “Ha, you think you are a big man now, decir hijo, you are nothing but a perro pequeño scroungy,” referring to his son as a small scroungy dog. His hatred for his father fueled the rage in his heart and made him more determined to become rich and powerful. For the most part, Diego saved his worst for Christian and his mother, but on one occasion he walked in to find his father drunk and on top of his younger sister Camilla. He pulled out his pistol, cocked the hammer, and held it to Diego’s head. With a deadly quiet voice, he said, “Sal de mi hermana o te mato!” ordering him to get off his sister or he would kill him.

His father rolled off and Camilla quickly scrambled to gather her clothes and ran out of the room hysterical. She was 10 years old. He almost shot Diego right then and there but decided it would be better to have a plan in place that would not implicate himself. Christian let him go with a warning that if he ever laid a hand on anyone in his family again, he would be a dead man. Diego looked into the dead eyes of his son and felt a fear he had never known. From then on, he decided he would save his abuse for the putas in town.

By the time he reached his late teens and early twenties, Christian was already an important middleman for trafficking illicit narcotics into the United States. There was always infighting between family members of the cartel, vying for control. Christian won favor with Carlos Santiago, the leader of the most powerful crime organization at that time, by making a competing cousin who was trying to oust him, disappear without a trace. He was destined for great things.

The only love that Christian had in his heart besides for his mother and siblings, was for Carlos Santiago. Otherwise, he was soulless. When he was twenty-four, he came home to find his mother lying in a pool of blood, beaten almost beyond recognition. Sobbing, he picked her up and drove to the nearest hospital, but it was too late. She died without ever regaining consciousness. The bile that rose up inside was an insatiable murderous rage that needed to destroy. He left the hospital in his blood-soaked clothing, driving into town to a cantina his father often frequented. Entering he looked around wild-eyed and not finding his father, he pointed his gun at the bartender and commanded in Spanish to know where Diego was. Terrified, the bartender inclined his head toward the staircase at the back of the bar, where it was well known to offer prostitutes to anyone willing to pay.

He ran up the stairs two at a time and kicked in the first door he came to. The surprised couple on the bed began screaming and cowering when they saw the gun pointed at them. Christian could tell immediately that it was not his father, so he went to the next room and hit pay dirt. His father was on top, humping the young girl from behind when Christian slammed through the door. Diego turned, and his eyes became round with terror when he saw his son with the gun aimed at his head. Christian ordered the girl to get up and leave the room. She tried to grab her clothes, but Christian ordered her out of the room naked. She ran as fast as she could, stumbling in her haste.

Diego begged his son not to take his life. Christian demanded that his father stand and then he pointed the gun at his groin and fired one shot. His father collapsed in agony, pleading with him as his blood spilled onto the filthy floor. Christian spit on him as he raised the gun again and said, “Te vere en el infierno.” I will see you in hell. He pulled the trigger one final time.

Christian walked out of the room and down the stairs, then got into his truck and drove away. Word got back quickly to Carlos Santiago and the body was disposed of and never mentioned again. Whatever humanity that had been left in Christian disappeared when his mother died. He became one of the most ruthless men in the organization, feared by all. No one would ever intentionally cross Christian Silva. He was a good man to have on your side and a terrifying enemy.

---