Chapter Thirteen
Javi
Twelve Years Later
Chicago, home sweet home. Juarez was a memory I left behind ten years ago. After the day Maricio left because I couldn’t take the risk to Mari, Paco handed me the business. It was a trade off since I saved his life from Maricio.
Granted his other option was to die.
Either way, I was head of the empire.
And I fucking loved it.
It took two years to handle the losses and rebuild the business. Paco had run shit in the ground during his time. I let him live because it was a short term loss and a long term gain.
Of course, the short term was the headache of him thinking he could be at my right hand. No, this fucker was the low man after all the shit he had done. In fact, after I got my mother to America, he became her bitch-boy. Whatever Estella wanted, Paco had to take care of.
I let him live to set a new standard. Murdering the jefe, the boss was not the way to take over. I had enough of a bounty on my head just for being me and the crimes I had committed for Miguel. The last thing I needed was for dumb fucks in my own organization to think if they killed me they got my business.
In the process of growth, expansion, I hooked up with Antonio Almanza who happened to be my cousin, mi primo, in America. He helped expand our trade north. With Aurelio at my side in Juarez and Antonio in the states, I was on top of the world.
Since the feds didn’t have enough on me to do shit, I even managed to get my paperwork on the up and up with some help from some attorneys and accountants. So after two years in charge in Juarez, I left Aurelio to run things while I made the move to America. Settling my mom in Minnesota, I built life in Chicago with Antonio.
Shit had been good here in the states for ten years. I had associates, I had millions in the bank, and I even had legitimate holdings so not everything was tied to the drugs.
What I didn’t have was a clue where Maricio Dominguez was hiding with Mari. I don’t know how he stayed under the radar, but he did. I knew he was still pushing drugs and taking hits for other Cartels and mafias, but every lead led to no where.
It was discouraging, but not something I would give up.
Antonio and I had a meeting today downtown. He had acquired an artist who had been shipping drugs for us. The arrangement worked for years. We had recently upgraded her studio and moved her to Chicago.
She got to have her business and we used the place for meetings from time to time. I liked Michele, she was a beautiful woman. She was fearless and strong which I admired.
Today, I felt something was amiss. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but as Antonio arrived to pick me up for our day, something wasn’t right.
We walked in the front door of the studio like we had plenty of times before. I turned and locked the door behind me because this too was common when we were preparing for a meeting. Pulling the black curtains closed, I sensed more people in the room.
Remaining calm, I kept about my task.
Antonio stood behind me making a tsking sound in his disapproval. Dammit Michele. Who was here? I turned to take in the space as Antonio removed his blue sports coat tossing it to the couch Michele kept near the door. Antonio rolled up the sleeves of his cream button up shirt to reveal the dagger tattoo on his forearm that we all had.
It was my signature.
I would rather a man die at the blade than by the bullet. I relished the strength, balls, and time it took to make a man bleed out then fire a single shot to their head. I wanted the power, I demanded it and I made my men crave it too.
Antonio smirked as he spoke to Michele. “Hermosa, you’re my bitch; why is a man here?”
Michele stood stock still with a man beside her. Interesting, I thought to myself as I studied the male. He wore a cut showing he was part of a motorcycle club and had long hair that was pulled back. He was tall and definitely not even remotely concerned about the danger he was in for being here in my business.
Confident.
I respected it.
The biker in the room, was angry. I actually found I liked it. I was a man of many emotions and anger was my favorite. It rolled off him in waves as he moved Michele behind him, standing eye-to-eye with the Antonio. “She’s no bitch. As for me, I’m not any man, I’m not even Super Man, I’m her motherfuckin’ husband.”
“She tastes,” Antonio smacks his fat lips in front of the biker taunting him, “delicious.”
Reaching out, the biker wrapped his hands around Antonio’s throat and squeezed.
He laughs before his windpipe begins to close but never once does he show fear or even grab my wrists to try to fight the biker off. This was Antonio. He relished pain. The biker should know that mi primo would fight to the death, even lose his life before he showed weakness.
I kept my aviators in place watching the scene in front of me. Michele stood there the fear written on her face. No matter what we had thrown at Michele Forbes over the years, she never showed weakness or fear. Obviously, she cared deeply for the biker. The man inside me wanted to comfort her, the man I was to the world couldn’t do it. Kindness was something I would never let be seen.
Slowly, I lifted my glasses revealing my scar. The scar that ran down my face drawing attention to my missing eye. It had become my signature in America. People knew the head of the Almanza Cartel was ruthless and without an eye he would still see right through any games—it was my reputation.
I pull my pistol.
Steady, I aimed not at the man slowly choking my cousin, but at Michele.
While I had admired the woman, she was this biker’s weakness and I had to play on what I had.
“Release him!” I ordered knowing he would do it.
He wouldn’t risk his wife. Dropping his hands, he stepped back. Antonio spit at his feet while Michele moved to stand behind her husband.
It was a sign of disrespect to the biker.
He didn’t react. That was smart of him.
I had the power.
From the movements, I took in his cut—Devil’s Due Motorcycle Club, Rowdy his patch read. I had heard of them and him. While the streets were always full of chatter about Mitchell “Trapper” Gates and whatever he was getting into, little was known of Rowdy other than he went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. I knew Jackson “Rowdy” Presley. I knew what he was capable of. I knew his work, his skillset. I had given him a proposition years before. He had been welcome in my organization. He declined as my line of work wasn’t for him. I just never expected him to want Michele back.
In the distance, closing in, the sound of the Harley’s pulling up outside could be heard.
“My bitch,” Antonio said again directed at Michele, to which Michele moved closer to her husband
“I told you I’m no one’s bitch! I did what I agreed to do through Bates. What happened to being men of your word?” She looked to me and asked. Which I had given her my word. She did her job and we left her alone. I kept Antonio off her even though the sick fuck wanted to rape her because he got off on that shit.
Extending his arm out, Rowdy kept her from moving beyond his frame while looking to me like I was the villain. “You ever been married?”
I shook my head. This was not new information. Anyone who knew anything about my organization would know this.
“Juarez was not easy,” he brings up the city everyone knew I was born and raised in. “Estella, does she miss being home?”
“Do not bring up my mother,” I retort as venom flares through me. They knew too much. My mother by name was a line. They had better not cross it.
“Word has it, your primo here sold her out.” He looked to Antonio and back to me. “Sold you out.”
Michele tugged on her husband. “Don’t push him, Jackson.”
“Listen to the little woman,” Antonio chimed in.
About that time, another man came in from upstairs. He strolled in like there wasn’t a gun pointed at his brother’s head.
“Michele, Sonnie needs you upstairs,” he said, looking to Rowdy and raising his hands at the scene like he’s unarmed. I knew better.
Michele didn’t reply. Rowdy looked down at her. “Go upstairs, let us men have a talk.” She hesitated. “Trust me.” I heard Rowdy whisper. There were more people here. I needed to sort out the situation and quickly.
“Who else is here?” I asked keeping my gun pointed at Rowdy while my gaze went Collector for an answer.
“Me and my woman,” Collector answered. “I’m Dover Ragnes, Jackson and I go back. We heard Michele was here. He wanted to see his wife. We’re not stayin’ long.” The man was casual, too casual which meant he was confident. I may have respected it but it didn’t mean I had to like it.
“I know who you are,” I told him watching Rowdy with Michele.
I listened as he whispered, “No matter what you hear, you don’t come back down. I promise you I’ll be fine and back with you soon.”
“Let the men talk business,” I piped in to her so she would leave. Michele had always followed orders from what I knew and now would be no different.
“I love you,” she mouthed the words to her husband, but sound doesn’t come out.
“Back atcha.” He told her and it was almost cute, sweet. Almost.
Only when she gets to the stairs and starts up does Rowdy turn back to us. My gun stayed on him.
“Look boys,” Collector said moving closer to Rowdy. “We’re all gentlemen here. Let’s put the gun away and discuss business.”
I studied Rowdy, never dropping the gun. “Had a lot of men attempt to recreate your work on the car. None have ever done it to your caliber.”
“Not much for negotiatin’ with a gun pointed at me.”
I laughed deep from my belly. “I’m not much for negotiatin’ period. In fact, I wouldn’t miss a blink to splatter your brains all over this place. However, I didn’t make it from the slums to motherfuckin’ symphony tickets by trusting a single fucker.”
“Not lookin’ for your trust,” Collector spoke up, moving in front of Rowdy. “Lookin’ to have a conversation that makes shit mutually beneficial.”
I knew he was giving Rowdy access to his weapons. I wasn’t dumb, but I also was truly fucked. Our associates wouldn’t be arriving for an hour or more. Antonio and I came alone because I needed to get a few things straight with my cousin about business before he pushed me too far. He had been skimming some books and I planned to address the issue. I couldn’t let him get away with it.
Antonio grunted beside me. “Way I see shit, you two fuckers are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Javi, we don’t need some country boy riggin’ a ride for us. We can find someone else to do the work.” Antonio always talked shit without thinking. In the past, Jackson “Rowdy” Presley had rigged a car for us and to this day no one had replicated the design. It was flawless.
If we could align ourselves in the right way, the Devil’s Due MC could be of use to us. This could become a mutually beneficial relationship to both of our businesses. They had their own code and it was one I respected. The Devil’s Due didn’t kill without cause.
“I’m not some country fuck. I’m Michele’s husband, and I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
“Your wife tastes so sweet, like mangos and peaches,” Antonio taunted the man.
In a swift movement, Rowdy grabbed him by the throat again. He moved backward until he had Antonio pressed against the wall. I allowed the fight. Antonio took shit too far by bringing up the man’s wife. Yanking out his knife, Antonio stabbed Rowdy in the side.
“Be smart, Javi,” Collector muttered keeping himself at Rowdy’s back. “You shoot Rowdy, I shoot you and your boy. Savin’ his ass worth your own?”
I wanted to laugh. No life was worth losing my own.
Antonio twisted the blade inside Rowdy. The battle they were fighting, Antonio brought on himself. The oxygen he was losing was earned. Rowdy didn’t shoot him, no he was a man I could respect as he wanted to drain the life from my cousin by his own hands.
Rowdy released Antonio and I wasn’t sure why. Either way, I would allow him a pass for it. Rowdy took the blade from his side wincing in pain.
“That pussy’s mine,” Antonio said, and I wanted to kill him myself. While I was a cocky fuck, this was pushing too far.
With the blade in Rowdy’s hand, he lifted and slammed it into Antonio’s neck. Antonio’s eyes grew wide, his lips moved up and down muttering incoherently.
Rowdy, twisted the blade, as he looked Antonio in the eye hitting his juggler. “Michele’s my wife. Till death do us part, motherfucker. You’ve never known sweet like hers and the hint of spice that lingers on your tongue after she’s lost all control for you. That pussy is mine. See you in hell, motherfucker.”
I fired. I couldn’t not shoot him. While I knew it wouldn’t kill him, it was a shot to the side. I couldn’t stand by while he killed my man in front of me. I would let him live, but I wouldn’t be known for letting him get off Scott-free. A shot goes off, pain sears my hand.
“That’s the only warnin’ I’m gonna give you,” Collector informs me, cold as ice.
My blood dripped to the floor. “You kill my family in front of me and expect me to stand down?” I said through gritted teeth.
“I think you are a man who understands the situation,” Collector told me calmly, holding his gun steady. There was no doubt he would kill me. “Your cousin fucked you, Javi. I got the docs to show he’s been skimmin’ money off Michele’s operation for years. Don’t wanna have to kill ya, but I’m not gonna lose any sleep puttin’ a bullet in you.”
“I’m not the kind of man to let this slide, Ragnes.”
The stench of death fills the area while Collector and I continued our standoff.
Another biker rushed in from the stairway. “Where’s Michele?” Rowdy asked as the man goes to him obviously to provide medical attention as he quickly assessed the wounds to his brother.
“See? Outnumbered today, Javi.” Collector explained what I already knew.
“Then fuckin’ shoot me!” I taunt him. I was ready to die. I had shit to lose so end me and move on.
“I was told from a mutual friend you are a man who understands when a debt is paid in full. The debt Paul Forbes owed to you is paid. The debt Rowdy owed you is no more. Michele Presley does not exist to you. She’s as cold as the metal grave marker for Michele Forbes.”
“And if I say no?” Honestly, I considered the debts long ago paid, but I wouldn’t ever admit to it easily.
“You die, your mother dies, and your organization is handed over to the Dominguez family on a silver fuckin’ platter.”
At the mention of Dominguez, I froze. How could they have information I didn’t have? I knew the word was Maricio was untouchable except by me which kept his ass alive. I just didn’t know why these bikers would know him. “Fine,” I conceded raising my hands in surrender.
If they knew where Maricio was then I could find him and Mari. For the first time in years I had a sliver of hope to close out a chapter of my past. And that hope lied with a bunch of Nomad bikers who had a knack for their own version of vigilante justice.
“You should know a few things, Almanza. Our connections will clean up this mess. We have a man on your mother while she’s living out her retirement. You make one wrong move toward Rowdy, me, or any of our club, and I’ll start with your mother and kill every person close to you while I single-handedly move your entire organization into the hands of Maricio Dominguez and his associates.”
“You kill mi primo, you shoot me, and now you want me to walk away?” I challenged not truly giving a shit about anything but getting to Maricio and killing him personally.
A shot goes off from behind Collector, landing in my thigh. I dropped to the ground, grabbing my leg as the fire scorched through me.
“Look fucker, enough chitchat. You either get to live to see another day or you die. You wanna die, I’ll give you that. You wanna live, which I’m sure your mother, dear Estella, would appreciate, then live. We leave here, we go on and you go on like our paths never crossed.” Trapper explained coming into my view.
I spat on Trapper’s boot. Mitchell “Trapper” Gates was a twisted son-of-a-bitch. Everyone knew it.
“Tsk, tsk. You wanna spit, spit. Although, I prefer when bitches swallow. I get it; you are a man with pride, yada, yada. Today, I woke up and said I wanted to die. Shit didn’t happen. You woke up and thought you would make some money pushin’ some dope. Disappointments happen.” Trapper kept at me. “We just wanna get our boy, climb on our bikes, and not look back. You gonna let us do that, or do you get my wish today and you die?”
“Fuckin’ put the bullet in me, asshole.” I tempted him knowing it was a gamble.
Trapper squats down to get eye-to-eye with me. “Okay, but you should know, you die, there is no one left to protect dear Estella from your enemies.” Trapper sighed dramatically. “Senior citizens aren’t really my thing, but I hear Dominguez likes wrinkled pussy. And I know the man you pay to take care of Estella’s lawn, well, you should know he came to America after the beautiful Mari Belle Dominguez broke up with him.”
Fucking Paco!
He wanted to leave Juarez he said. Any job would do just he couldn’t stay there. So I set him up him at my mother’s house as her grounds keeper. He betrayed me. All this time, he knew where they were and didn’t tell me. For that he would die.
I didn’t give a shit what the hell these bikers wanted. I just needed them to get on with their shit so I could call in Paco and squeeze the life out of him. He knew where they were and I would soon myself. Yes, Antonio’s life and two bullets in my body were worth the information the Devil’s Due MC just brought to my doorstep.
“Just like you he’s tasted her sweet essence and fell hard and fast for the Mexican beauty who stole your heart, and her brother Maricio stole your eye. Well, the man you have doin’ your mom’s lawn, his loyalty ain’t to you, buddy. He’d do anything to get Mari Belle back, including risk his own life working for you in a shit position just to report to Maricio about your mother and any activity at her house.” Trapper pulled out his phone. The documents all detailed my family, our activities, as well as my long time rival with Maricio Dominguez.
“Mari Belle is a beautiful woman. Those hips,” Trapper whistled making me want to punch him. “The little dimples in her plump ass, those are the best. You wanna see the videos? She is a kinky kitten. She gives it so freely now after making you wait and work so long for her pussy.”
She was in America. I noticed it in the documents. They found her. Now I needed them gone. I had more important shit to handle than some bikers who just wanted Michele. “Get the fuck out!”
Trapper stood and holstered his weapon content with what he had done to me.
“Need your word,” Collector tells him.
Honest as fuck, if they would have asked for my entire organization, every dollar in my bank, they could have had it. They wanted a truce without retribution even with a bullet in my leg and one in my hand, I’d give it. I had bigger fish to fry and a vengeance over a decade old waiting to be delivered. “On my word, you and your crew are safe. This is your one pass. Get the fuck out! My people clean up. None of you were here, nothing touches you and we never cross paths again, or then it’s every man for himself.”
Just as they get ready to walk out, Collector stopped standing over me, “You keep your word, we’ll honor ours. You’re safe, your mother’s safe, and your business goes on as usual, without Michele. You cross us, I’ll let Trapper play games with your mother’s body before he finally puts her out of her misery and you will receive pieces of her in the mail. You fuck us, and I will tear apart your entire operation, giving every single dime you have and have the potential to earn in the future to Dominguez.”
Through gritted teeth, I agreed. “You have my word.”
They got their pass not by my blood spilled. They got their pass today on the information they shared in that file. I had one blink to get it and I took that opportunity like every other opportunity in my entire life.
I took that shit and I ran with it. Maricio Dominguez was on my radar. Mari Belle Dominguez was alive and Paco knew where. I was reset in my resolve to find them both and to end them. The devil himself be damned.