Page 60 of Sin and Seduction

“No can do, Flores. We have you outnumbered for a reason,” Paolo says, and we walk in slowly, our guns drawn and raised.

“Ahh, James. It’s a pleasure to see you again. I must admit, your little watch trick had me fooled for quite a while. But in the end, I always find out everything. Isn’t that right, Dante? Like the night I ordered your poor daddy’s head on a platter.” He smiles wickedly, and it takes all my power not to shoot this fucker in the head right now.

“What do you want, Diego?” I ask, my gun cocked and aimed directly at him.

“A truce. Maybe even an alliance. I say let bygones be bygones, and we move forward. With your connections and my ability to find men on a whim, I say we can have a booming business in no time. We have the potential to take over this entire goddamn country if we damn well please,” he says, pouring himself another glass of scotch and sitting down in his leather chair.

“I don’t make deals with murderers,” I say, and he laughs loudly.

“Like you haven’t killed? Your hands are full of blood, Moreno. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“All the men I’ve killed have deserved it. Like your assistant,” I hiss, and he shrugs.

“Maybe so, but we all have our reasons. Who’s to say that my reasons aren’t valid? Your father was stepping over boundary lines and stealing my men away from me; he was a dirty bastard,” he snarls.

“That may be so, but what’s your excuse for Rowen’s family? Or for the women you’ve sold into trafficking and clubs? What’s your reasoning for that?” I ask, and he shrugs once more, pissing me off for the final time.

“Rowen’s land was the perfect setup for my business. It was a decent bargain, and I don’t cut deals like that often. As for the girls, I saved them from the streets. They should thank me for allowing them such luxuries.”

“Luxuries of being raped and abused?” I hiss, and he laughs.

“As if they weren’t getting that already.” He sets his glass down and walks around to the front of his desk, leaning against it and folding his arms like he doesn’t have thirty guns pointed at him right now.

“You may have expensive weapons and many men, but you will never defeat me, Dante. I run this fucking state, and soon, I’ll be fucking God himself when I carry out my deals. Soon, I’ll have your head on a fucking platter right next to your father's,” he snarls, pulling out his gun and aiming at me.

A shot rings out, and I freeze, waiting to see where his bullet lands. I feel no pain, and when I look up, I see smoke coming out of Rowen’s gun and Diego’s lifeless body bleeding out on the cold, cement floor.

“What the fuck did I tell you about not following orders?” I snarl at him, and he shrugs casually.

“You told me to kill the man, and I did. As far as I’m concerned, I did follow orders. And I was tired of hearing that son of a bitch talk,” he says, and my men move in fast, aiming guns at Deigo’s guards, who now have their hands raised in defense.

A man with grey hair and body armor steps forward, and I aim my gun at him, but he raises his hands quickly.

“Stop! I knew your father!” he cries, and I freeze, narrowing my eyes on him.

“Prove it and prove why I shouldn’t kill all of you right now,” I hiss, and he goes to pull a paper from his pocket.

He hands it to me, and I open it and see an old photo of him and my father shaking hands, smiles on their faces.

“We had plans to open up a club together in New York, extend our business out there. I was there the night he was assassinated. All the men Diego has now were hired and trained by me. I’ve been working on taking over until I built up a team of my own men in his business. I had to filter everyone out,” he says, and I keep my gun drawn and my eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know you. A picture proves nothing, and I’ve been in this business long enough to know that you can’t trust anyone,” I say, and he shakes his head.

“I’m not asking you to trust me right now, Dante. I’m just asking for a negotiation. Your father was a smart man, and he saved me from poverty. I owe him my life,” he says earnestly.

“Start talking,” I say, and he does.

* * *

The negotiation took hours. We are finally on our way back home, and it’s just past three in the morning. Emmie must be worried sick, but I can’t wait to hold her in my arms and melt into the sweet comfort of her body. The man we spoke with is none other than Mark Sanches, an old driver that my father hired when my brother and I were kids and just coming to the states. He has photographs of us as children, and Oscar remembered him immediately. We met with each of his men and asked to see every document that he and my father had when they planned to open their club in New York.

I saw bank deposits, old messages. Every bit of proof I needed. I’m still skeptical, but I figured I’d give him a chance. We scheduled to meet at one of my clubs later this week to go over our plans for handling the new cartel. He agreed to let James be part of it, having worked with him since Diego stole his land those many years ago. James vouched for his sincerity and even received the deed to his farm. He’s been quiet in the car ever since.

“What’re you going to do?” I ask him as we ride back to the house in silence.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly, no cockiness or annoying humor detected at all in his low tone.

“I’ve waited years for this moment. To avenge my parents, and now that it’s finally here, all I wanted to do is sell this fucking place,” he says, and I nod slowly, rubbing my chin and staring out of the car window.

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