Page 1 of Fast Justice

Chapter One

Manny Nieto removed his sunglasses as he stepped out of the armored Range Rover parked out front of the humble house on the outskirts of town, and tucked them into the pocket of his designer shirt. His head of security was waiting for him on the front porch, having already ensured the area was safe and without prying eyes.

“Well?” Manny asked in Spanish as he walked up the front steps. The July heat in this area of Mexico was dry, but still oppressive. He wanted to finish this business and get back into his air-conditioned vehicle as soon as possible. “Anything?”

“No.” David stepped back and opened the door for him.

Impatient for answers, Manny walked inside. The sounds of muffled sobbing came from somewhere in the back. He made a face. “How long has he been in there?”

“About an hour.”

“Let’s make this quick. I’ve got another meeting to get to.”

David led him down the short hallway and turned left down another. The sobbing got louder as they approached a closed door at the end on the right. Broken, pitiful sobbing of a man who knew he wasn’t going to live much longer.

At Manny’s nod, David knocked once on the door and opened it. Another security member stood inside, guarding the door. Yet another was positioned at the back of the room, near the far wall, a three-foot-long, thin metal rod in his hands.

The male prisoner dangled from chains attached to a hook in the ceiling. He hung by his wrists, his toes dangling a few inches off the floor. With his arms stretched out overhead like that and his full weight hanging from them, the strain on his shoulder joints would be unbearable.

The twenty-something, dark-haired man was naked, head bowed as he hung there, chin resting on his heaving, glistening chest. Slowly his head came up. He looked at Manny through eyes nearly swollen shut, his limp body jerking with the residual force of his muffled sobs. Blood ran from his nose, trickling over his mouth and chin, dripping onto his chest. His sweat-slicked torso was covered in welts, bluish-purple bruises already forming across his ribs and stomach.

Standing just inside the doorway, Manny folded his arms and regarded the prisoner for a long moment. “You know who I am?”

Glazed with pain, those beaten eyes gazed back at him with fear and pleading. But more importantly, recognition.

Manny intended to make this quick. He needed answers, and he needed them fast. “You were one of Ruiz’ssicarios, no?” The formerVenenolieutenant Manny had replaced recently. Right after Ruiz was captured by U.S. federal agents in a highly secretive sting back in May.

The man tried to shake his head. “I…no,” he slurred through battered lips. “I was…new. Only worked…for him…a month.”

Manny glanced at the man who had been beating him. “This true?”

“He seems to believe it,” the guy said with a shrug, tapping the rod against his thigh. “Hasn’t changed his story.”

Manny turned his attention back to the prisoner. The man was in a lot of pain, kept moving restlessly in a futile effort to relieve the pressure on his shoulder joints. Likely he had a few cracked ribs as well. There was no reason he would keep lying under that kind of torture.

“Ruiz is gone for good. He’s either going to die in prison, or by lethal injection one day. Either way, he’s already dead as far as we’re concerned.” We meaning Manny, the otherVenenolieutenants, andEl Escorpionhimself—the shadowy and reclusive head of the cartel. “Anyone who worked for him belongs to me now. And I expect my people to transfer their loyalty to me also.” He hardened his tone. “Not to run to the Americans and try to cut a deal.”

“They came to me,” the prisoner rasped out. “I didn’t…tell them anything.” He wheezed the last word, shuddered.

Whether he had talked or not was irrelevant now. Manny had taken steps to change procedures within his part of the organization, and brought his own people on board since becoming the new lieutenant. They were almost done cleaning out the dregs of Ruiz’s old operation. A necessary purge, since most of them had proven to be mindless animals.

But that wasn’t why this man was being questioned. Manny had come here for another purpose. One he wanted answers to immediately. Beneath the cold, detached exterior and terrifying reputation he guarded so well, he was a desperate, frantic man.

The moment he showed any sign of weakness, he was as good as dead.

A cold, hard fury burned deep in his chest as he faced the prisoner. None of the others had given him anything of use.Someonehad to know.

“Where is my daughter, Jesus?” he demanded in a deceptively calm voice. “Oceane. Where is she?” She and her mother had been attacked by gunmen at their house outside of Veracruz a few days ago. They had apparently survived and had gone into hiding, but Manny didn’t know where. Perhaps even to the United States. He needed to find them. Wanted them both back on Mexican soil and back under his control and protection immediately, before it was too late.

The man’s bleary eyes focused on him, his expression freezing with fear. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you.” He said it quietly, each word filled with menace.

“No. I swear it.” Another sob ripped out of him.

Manny kept staring at him but spoke to the man holding the rod. “What else did he say?”

“Not much. He says he never heard about her. Not even rumors. He said the first he heard of her and her mother disappearing was when we brought him here.”

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