Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
I opened my hand and saw five one-ounce gold bars.
I pocketed them discreetly, not needing anyone to see.
“There’s more where that came from, but they don’t fit inside my wallet,” he said. “It was Danny who said it. We’re going on vacation when Shay’s home again. He’s confident. So am I.”
I swallowed hard and blinked past the sudden sting in my eyes. Goddamn him. I couldn’t fucking do this now. Thank fuck I had my shades on.
“And he’s a fighter, your boy,” he added vehemently. “You think he’s going to give up?”
Shut the fuck up!
I sniffled, and then the shades didn’t fucking matter. Tears spilled over, and I hurriedly wiped at my cheeks. “You give me gold and you make me cry. Thanks, Em.”
He leaned in once more, not finished. “You must stay strong for him, Reese. For your brother too. You must eat, sleep, and keep your focus. I know you well enough to recognize the signs when you’re letting your anger take the wheel. Some of the killings we’ve read about lately—they have your name written all over them. The attack in Malibu was you, wasn’t it? Presumably with River as backup?”
It was no use in denying it. He was right. Because of how personal this was, I’d lost sight of some of the most important lessons that’d kept us alive for almost twenty years in and out of war zones.
River and I hadn’t become our pasts after all. We’d become a fundamentally broken version of them, and that wouldn’t do. I’d fucked up. I’d let go of the structure we’d once depended on. I kept River in check during operations, and he patched me back together once the danger had passed. He and Shay, I should say. I was the strong one in a crisis, and then I fucking collapsed afterward, and that was when they took over.
“I hear you.” I sniffled again and removed my shades to scrub my hands over my face.
“Good. I don’t know where you and River are hiding out, but bring food back with you. And quit fucking smoking. You smell like a Marlboro factory. It wouldn’t hurt you to shave either.”
Christ.
Shay appeared in my mind, his goofy grin and beautiful eyes. He would’ve laughed so hard if he’d been here now.
We’re bringing you home, baby. We clearly can’t fucking live without you.
I was equal parts wrung out and reenergized when I made it back to the farm. I tossed the ball cap and the shades on the passenger’s seat, ran a hand through my hair, and grabbed the pizza box I’d picked up on the way. I’d bought more bread for all the fixins River had come back with earlier too. From now on, no skipping meals, no skipping sleep. Granted, we wouldn’t get full nights or anything, but we couldn’t run on two-hour naps.
Shay needed us on our A game.
Entering the barn, it was clear as day that my brother had switched tactics. Luiz had received more painkillers, judging by the lazy grin on his face.
I set down the food on the cooler between our chairs, and I kept my mouth shut. River was squatting down in front of Luiz, jotting down field notes.
“…and that’s where you think your godfather is?” River was asking. “In Rio?”
“Nah, man,” Luiz drawled. “He wouldn’t go that far. Your, uh…your brother is back. Or I’m seeing two of you.” He cracked up.
I didn’t like seeing that motherfucker so happy.
River was in the zone. He rose to his feet, still scribbling, and motioned for me to follow him out.
“I take it he’s a talker on oxy?” I guessed.
He inclined his head. “So we know Jorge Gomez has Shay, and now I know Luiz Gajero has Marisa and Blake. I also know that Carillo started branching out from the Blanco cartel before he was arrested. They have a whole operation running down in Brazil. They deal mostly coke from Peru, and Carillo is apparently not happy with his suppliers.”
Hot damn. “I can pass it on to Willow. Last update I saw when I was waiting for the pizza, she was in the process of freezing their assets. Adrien gave her all the intel she needed.”
“That’s good.” Riv made another couple notes in his little book. “How did it go with Em and Danny?”
Oh, just splendid…
“They’re on their way to Mexico now, and we’ll hear from them tonight,” I said. “I think Emerson’s antsy to go help Mercier in Colombia.”
“Yeah?” Riv looked up from his notes.
I nodded once. “His theory is that Mercier’s pretty much on his own down there.”
He frowned, probably thinking about Crew. Lord knew I was.
Colombia was a whole other ballgame. When there wasn’t a war on the horizon, California was fairly organized too. With layers upon layers of crews and independent gangs with affiliations. But now? Shit, I’d lost count of the men Vincente’s guys had taken care of. River and I had dealt with our fair share too. Plus, if Carillo’s closest old-timers, Jorge Gomez and Luiz Gajero, were put in charge of three hostages…? That wasn’t normally high-ranking responsibility. That was something you made some young up-and-comer do. Hell, it was something the Luiz we had right here should be put in charge of. So that spoke volumes of the shitshow state California was in due to this war.