Page 40 of Echoes and Oaths
“How’d Ortega become king?” Jinx asked.
“It was a bad war, man,” the enforcer replied. “Lots of killing. Somehow, Ortega came out on top.”
“Yeah?” Jinx’s tone dripped with disbelief. “And who funded his ass? No one I knew would’ve backed him.”
The man’s eyes darted around, checking if anyone had overheard. He edged closer, lowering his voice. “Mateo, don’t start that. Not here. I’ll talk to you later when nobody’s around. Don’t trust anyone.” The kid lifted his fingers, and the woman returned, handing him a beer.
Jinx fought the urge to roll his eyes. It hadn’ttaken long for Ortega’s men to start turning on him. That was the thing about tyrants, they never inspired loyalty.
He shifted, watched the woman leave, and kept his voice low and quiet. “What about the faction in the low foothills?”
The enforcer damn near jumped out of his skin, grabbing the glass he’d almost knocked over.Damn, did that hit a nerve?Diego swallowed hard and shook his head. “I don’t know anything about them.”
The answer came too quickly, too defensively. Jinx sneered to himself, sharp and discerning. The kid knew more than he was revealing. Things were stirring beneath the surface. Alliances, betrayals, secrets that hadn’t yet seen the light of day. The environment remained the same. The players had changed, but Jinx would uncover the answers he sought. It was merely a matter of time.
Within thirty minutes, the third black SUV rumbled to a stop in front of the cantina.
There were no revving engines, no laughter, no shouting that time. The doors opened and closed silently. They were sharp, efficient sounds that carried weight. Three men entered the dim, sweltering bar, their steps measured and deliberate.
Trailing them on a taut leash was the Malinoisthat had been recovering at Eira’s. The sleek, muscular dog’s sharp eyes scanned the room like a soldier trained for war. The scrappy stray that had claimed Jinx earlier skittered toward the back of the cantina, tail tucked tight, sensing trouble and wanting no part of it.
The man in the middle peeled off his sunglasses with slow precision. His gaze swept the room once before locking onto Jinx like a laser sight.
That one, Jinx knew.
Simón.
They’d worked together in Montoya’s cartel. Simón was a bloodthirsty, batshit crazy bastard and, ironically, one of the few men Jinx knew who hated Ortega more than he did.
The man at Simón’s left was the bastard who’d threatened Eira.
And the third…Jinx’s gaze flicked to him. That was the driver Eira had asked to bring the poisoned Malinois to her hospital. Jinx knew all of them. Knew what they were capable of and what atrocities they’d committed. Brando’s intel had painted a clear picture.
Simón didn’t waste time. His sharp voice cut across the quiet like a blade. “What the fuck did they do, and why did you kill them?”
The question was directed squarely at Jinx.
Still hovering near him at the bar, Diego started to speak, but Jinx halted him with a glance and a slight shake of his head.
“They were stupid in public. You found out quickly.” Jinx said coolly. “Isn’t that still a death sentence around here?”
Simón’s eyebrows rose, and a slow, dangerous smile crept across his face. “Fuckers are laid out on the street. Kind of obvious. Everyone said you were dead.”
“Everyone was wrong. Again.” Jinx took another sip of his beer, letting the statement hang heavy between them. “You aren’t training your men to use their manners.”
Simón snorted, shaking his head, and strode to the bar with the Malinois at his side. “Beer,” he barked at the woman, who hustled to comply. He turned back to Jinx, one brow lifted. “It ain’t my job to train them. And who the fuck uses manners anymore?” His eyes flicked to Diego. “Give us some space.”
Diego moved quickly without question, wisely fading back toward the far wall.
The Malinois sat obediently at Simón’s side butstared unblinkingly at Jinx. Its muscles were tight, poised. Jinx slowly extended his hand.
The dog leaned forward, sniffed, then licked his fingers.
Simón’s laugh was a rough bark of sound. “Fuck, man. I would’ve bet a hundred American dollars that bastard would’ve taken your hand off instead of licking it.”
“I’ve got an affinity for animals,” Jinx murmured, scratching behind the dog’s ear before shifting his attention back to Simón. “You one of Ortega’s officers now?”
Simón rolled his eyes and grunted. “Pretty fucking obvious. Did you get dumber while you were gone?”
