Page 6 of Hold Me

My pulse is pounding against my temples. One flick of my finger and his men will be dead. I could put a bullet between his eyes before he even registers the carnage. The hard outline of my gun presses against my back, begging me to pull the trigger—to watch him bleed all over the pristine white tablecloth.

“There are three things a man should always respect: his God, his business, and his woman.” I stare at him. “And if another man disrespects this… well, such things are fatal.”

He stares back at me for long moments. “Let’s talk business.”

The tension in my spine eases somewhat, dissipating further when Anna retakes her seat beside me. I don’t like not having eyes on her with this many strangers in the house. I start to stand immediately. “We’ve established that you really have nothing to offer me. You want to run shipments through my port, which always carries great risk. The more blow I run through it, the more the DEA try to fuck me, as you know.”

He tips his head back. “What do you want? We both know you want something or you wouldn’t have accepted my invitation and wasted your time. Cut the bullshit.” I lift my glass to my lips and take a slow sip, enjoying his bristling impatience. The brandy burns my throat and warms my stomach instantly before I set the glass back down.

“Twenty percent.”

He lifts a brow. “You want twenty percent of the shipments. That’s ridiculous.”

“No, I want twenty percent of your entire business.”

He laughs. “You’ve gone loco, my friend.”

“Use of my port would see your business grow by forty percent in the next five years. So, even if you lose twenty, you’re still gaining more than you currently have. That’s a huge growth rate.”

He narrows his eyes at me. Ricardo may be violent and bloodthirsty, but he’s just a glorified soldier. To control his city he needs only fear. I have learned to be a businessman. Violence is not enough to hold a cartel because no matter how strong you are, there will always be someone more ruthless, with more men, more guns. I choose to have most of my battles like this, over a table with hard numbers and strategic deals.

He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “You want twenty percent of all my revenue.”

A smile pulls at the corners of my lips. “No. I want one client who makes up twenty percent of your cocaine trade.” We both know that cocaine is not his entire business, but this isn’t about business. This is fucking personal.

His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Which client?”

My smile breaks loose. “The Sinaloa.” Anna stiffens beside me, and I shift my arm along the back of her chair, threading my fingers through her hair at the base of her skull.

Ricardo’s expression morphs into an icy mask, and he shifts in his chair uncomfortably. “You want to take over their supply?”

“Something like that.” Dominges is a lazy fuck. He chooses to buy his blow and make a reasonable profit rather than make it for potentially twice as much gain. His main business is women. Cocaine is an obligatory sideline, though he still supplies most of California. Rosi will sell to him because it’s easy money. He doesn’t have to get it out of the country, and he doesn’t supply Cali, so it’s a win-win. Outsourcing his blow is about to become a costly mistake for Dominges. I can see the wheels turning in Ricardo’s mind. Processing it. Really, it’s a good business move. He’ll have all that extra blow to sell at street value rather than the cut-rate he’s undoubtedly giving the Sinaloa.

He releases a long breath. “I’ll need to discuss it with Dominges.”

I take a cigar from my inside pocket and place it to my lips, clicking my lighter open. There’s a beat of silence as the flame kisses the end of the cigar, and I inhale a stream of thick smoke. The lighter snaps shut with finality. “No. Speak to him, and the deal is off the table.” Smoke slips from my lips in a steady stream.

His expression pinches, the lines at the corner of his eyes sinking deep. “What the fuck are you trying to get me into, Rafael?”

“That’s none of your concern.” I flick ash into my empty glass. “You are at a crossroads, Ricardo. You can make your business bigger, better. You can cut some ties while solidifying others. Alliances…” I shake my head. “So important in our line of work.”

“You know Dominges also owns a port.” He cocks a brow, and I laugh.

“So do you, but San Juanico, like Tijuana, is the main shipping route between Mexico and California, as you well know. He loses more drugs than he gets through each month.” I shake my head. “Sloppy business. You and I know better.”

“There are always risks. You’re running to Miami for fuck’s sake.” I only smile. I never lose shipments because I fucking own everyone, and I certainly don’t sail my shit right up to Miami. What is it they say—go in the back door?

“Naturally.” We stare at each other, and I can see him buckling, grasping at straws under the desperate drive of pure greed. This business gets you like that. No matter how much money you make, you always want more. No matter how big the empire, they want it bigger, and that is a mistake. Spread yourself too far, and you get thin. Security is not what it once was. It’s harder to get people in your pocket. Yes, greed and power go hand in hand. And Ricardo Rosi wants more, more, more. Enough to give me what I want. He knows it, and I know it.

He huffs out a breath. “I need a few days.”

I lift the cigar to my lips and inhale until my lungs ache. “You have twenty-four hours. And remember, you are not the only one who wants that port.”

I stand, offering Anna my hand. She takes it, and I pull her to her feet.

“Why do you want to supply Dominges?” she asks once we’re in the car.

“Because I owe him a debt of retribution, and nothing wounds a man more than losing control.”

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