Page 2 of Lethal Vengeance
Thinking fast, I decide to go with the ambitious thread and give him a firm nod. “The organization funnels quite a lot of business through this area, and I want to establish myself as a major player. With my extensive contacts and resources north of the border, I’m able to provide what others can’t. Which means the potential profit margin is astronomical.” I wait to see if that solves the concern I hear in his voice.
He gives a satisfied smile. “For the last year, you’ve successfully delivered on every job I’ve given you and exhibited remarkable discretion. Both are traits I need for the next job. It’s more… delicate. If you succeed, I’ll help you get established as a trusted partner for the organization. If you fail, I’ll give you to Rodrigo.” His right-hand man and the ultimate threat.
Lean brown fingers casually brush a crumb off his trousers.
I almost smile in satisfaction. This is it—the moment I’ve been waiting for—an opportunity to get closer to him and his operations.
“I’m listening,” I murmur, unwilling to give him the slightest indication of interest. I lift my drink and take a sip while I wait to hear the details of the sins I must commit to stay in the good graces of hell.
“My twin brother, Julio, God rest his soul, expanded our business a few years ago,” he begins. “Until that time, we’d been exclusive suppliers of general laborers—individuals necessary for farms and other large operations. At an organizational meeting, he realized the real money was in a more specialized laborer. Unfortunately, it’s an incredibly competitive market, and nobody was willing to share their knowledge.” He sighs.
After another lick of his cone, he continues. “My brother, eager to prove we could compete in this space, didn’t realize how much due diligence is necessary to make sure we obtain therightmerchandise. As a result, mistakes were made. Big ones. I took care of one mistake a couple of years ago, but I just learned we have another potentially explosive situation on our hands.”
My breath stutters and stops.Mistake, I silently repeat, rage filling every crevice of my mind. My fingers tighten on the cup in my hand, and I carefully set it down beside the bench before I crush it in my anger. Grinding my teeth, I stare desperately at the water, trying to find the calm to continue this conversation without killing him, but it does nothing. Furious, I slam all the doors in my mind shut until every emotional thought is blocked.
Thankfully, he takes my silence in stride. “We picked up the sister of a Chicagofamilyby mistake, a close-knit Sicilian family, and her friend, who happens to be the heir to a wealthy developer out of Miami. If you could help me get them back to their families, I’ll be in your debt. There are a few catches, of course.”
Relief brings back the calm I’d been desperately searching for the last couple of minutes. He wants me tosavethem.
Practical options and scenarios swim in my brain. “Of course,” I finally get out. “What are the terms?”
He raises a finger. “Absolutely no one can know. You’ll be on your own. If you’re caught, I’ll deny everything,” he states firmly before raising a second finger. “No law enforcement. I know you have contacts on both sides, but it needs to be an off-books type of rescue. And third, only those two girls. Do not attempt to rescue any others. I’ve removed them from the general population and assigned them a caregiver. Most of my men think they were sold.”
“What about Rodrigo?” I ask about his right-hand man, a psycho with torturous tendencies. Pot. Kettle, I guess, but whatever. He’s a strong adversary.
“He cannot know about this,” he emphasizes. “Rodrigo’s loyalty is to the organization first. Always. They would likely send him to eliminate me and the girls. Mistakes aren’t tolerated. You should remember that rule.”
I dip my chin in acknowledgement of his warning.
He taps the bench. “I’ll either arrange to meet you here or will tape a note to the bottom. Check it every Sunday. I usually come here on Wednesdays and Saturdays.”
“This sounds like a headache,” I say dismissively.
He chuckles. “It will be, but you’ll be well compensated. I’ll pay all expenses and triple your current fee, and if you’re up for it, I’ll put you in charge of procurement for our more specialized operations.” He flashes me a smug smile, knowing the true carrot is the extremely lucrative job of finding girls for his sex trafficking operations.
In my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have asked for a better reward. I smile.
The job might have been presented as a request, but declining isn’t an option. “I’ll reach out to a few contacts and find a team for the extraction,” I inform him, indicating my agreement of the terms. “I’ll need information on the location, guard rotations, security systems, and so forth. It’s Wednesday, but I should be able to get a good start on this by Saturday. Same place and time?” I throw my partially eaten sandwich into the paper bag and pick up the cup. When he nods his agreement, I leave him there licking his ice cream cone.
* * *
By Saturday,I’ve made a million plans, but he only needs to know a few details. When I get to the park, he’s sitting on the bench waiting for me. The running shorts and a sleeveless shirt throw me for a second.In all my surveillance, I’d rarely caught him in anything but a suit.
Sliding onto the seat beside him, I set my large bag on the bench between us. “Good morning.” After the last meeting, I was able to gain a little perspective and equilibrium. Obviously, manners are important to him and using them benefits me.
He tilts his head and smiles at the words. “Good morning.” Dark brown eyes flick over my attire and bag, then narrow with suspicion. “Yoga class?”
I shrug. “I needed an excuse to come to this side of town on a regular basis. There’s a yoga studio across from the park’s entrance. You’re looking at its newest member.”
He relaxes. “Update?”
Picking up my phone, I scroll mindlessly through social media while I relay the information. “They’ll touch down in two weeks. Once here, they can assess the situation and determine a timeframe for removal, but likely within a week or two.”
A dramatic, disappointed sigh fills the air. “Too long. Find someone else,” he orders.
I shake my head. “Not too many are keen to take on a rescue of this nature. If something goes wrong, it’s their neck on the line with the families. Most of the groups I approached demanded to meet with you as added insurance.”
His silence and anger are expected, but it’s tough holding on to my patience. “The Santos Foundation is one of the best. Recommended by all my contacts. They understand the need for secrecy, and their only requirement is the victim’s innocence.” I shrug. “But they’re on another job right now. It’s either them or you need to find your own team.”
