Page 41 of Echoes and Oaths
“No. Richer,” Jinx replied without missing a beat. “But I’ve got unfinished business here.”
Simón’s eyes gleamed darkly. “Eira. And your bastard.”
The smile slid clean off Jinx’s face. He straightened, the sharp edges of his posture radiating lethal energy. His voice dropped low, a blade in the air. “If her name comes out of your mouth again, I’ll cut your tongue out, cook it, and eat it.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. Jinx closed the distance between themin a blink, their faces inches apart, the tension in the cantina so thick it could’ve been cut with a knife. The air felt heavier than the suffocating Venezuelan humidity pressing against the cracked plaster walls.
Simón let out a sharp, dry laugh and took a long drink of his beer, unfazed. When he set the glass down, he shook his head. “There’s the cold-hearted bastard I knew. Thought maybe you’d gone all soft and squishy on us. How the hell did we not know you were fucking her?”
“What I do, or don’t do, isn’t your business,” Jinx shot back. Every muscle in his body vibrated with the need to put Simón on the floor, but he forced himself to stay still. He needed this man as an ally, not a corpse.
Simón’s gaze shifted, voice dropping low again. “Well, your business didn’t used to be my concern. Now, it is. She told me you were back. Now I have to fucking tell the spineless bastard I work for.” His words slowed, each one a loaded bullet. “Ortega wants your woman. She’s held him off so far, but he’s … anxious to have her.”
Jinx’s blood froze in his veins. He turned his head slowly, very slowly, to look at Simón. His voice came out like death itself. “That will end in Ortega’s death.”
Simón said nothing, taking another long pull from his beer. He stared out the dirty window behind the bar as if he hadn’t just delivered his boss’s death sentence.
“How did he take the helm?” Jinx asked just as quietly.
Simón shrugged one shoulder. “No idea. He’s keeping it with money. Lots of money.”
“Loyalty?” Jinx asked quietly, taking another sip of his warm beer. The Malinois leaned subtly against his leg like it sensed the storm brewing.
Simón chuckled darkly. “About as loyal as that fucking dog.”
Jinx’s gaze flicked to the group in the far corner of the cantina. The cartel’s low-level enforcers pretending to mind their own business, but their eyes tracking every movement. They couldn’t hear the conversation. No one could, except Brando, and no doubt it was being recorded to be dissected after Jinx finished.
“So, the military faction will be taking over soon,” Jinx said flatly. It wasn’t a question.
“Not so sure about that,” Simón murmured, his gaze cutting sideways toward him. “Be careful, Mateo. There’s shit happening around here that Idon’t understand. There’s someone else, and I have no idea who the fuck it is.”
“The military assholes.” Jinx filled in the name of the entity.
Simón glanced around. “Not them. Something is brewing.” He glanced at Jinx. “Are you staying at Eira’s?”
His defenses flared again. “I am. Why?”
Simón lowered his voice even further. “We need to talk.”
Jinx nodded. “Where?”
Simón drew a deep breath. “Meet me at the abandoned farm west of Eira’s tomorrow night. I won’t be missed for a while. They’ll think I’m fucking my woman.”
“You have a woman.” Jinx leaned forward. “Are you going to take her out of here?”
“I’m working on it. If she disappears, it’ll be noticed. But I have to figure something out. I’m not sure any of us will be alive this time next year.” Simón held his beer in front of his lips as he continued in a whisper, “You picked the wrong time to come back, my friend.” He finished his drink before pushing off the bar and tugging on the Malinois’s leash, guiding the dog away from Jinx.
Before Simón reached the door, he glanced backover his shoulder. His voice was sharp and clear, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
“This man is off limits. You fuck with him, you answer to me. That is, if he doesn’t kill you first.”
The weight of the statement settled over the room like a cloud. It shocked the hell out of Jinx, and judging by the stiffening of shoulders and the glances traded among Ortega’s enforcers, it had rattled them, too. They shifted uneasily, casting nervous looks between Simón and Jinx like they weren’t sure which one of them had just become more dangerous.
Across the room, Diego met Jinx’s gaze but didn’t move to approach. Smart kid. Smarter than Jinx had initially given him credit for.
Simón’s warning had just bought Jinx something unexpected.
Protection from Ortega’s officers. And that was a double-edged blade. It might keep some cartel dogs off his back in the short term, but it also tangled him tighter into their web. Yet it was a snare that could unravel everything he was trying to do.
He took a slow sip of his beer, scanning the room, memorizing every face, every reaction. The whisper network would already be spinning. By nightfall, the entire area would know he was back,alive, and under Simón’s protection. And once the military faction caught wind of it … well, they’d reach out.
