Page 6 of Cartel Viper


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“Okay, sweetie. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I hang up and look at my phone. I have to come up with an excuse besides work for why I can’t go. It would be legit to say it’s too late to get the time off, and my mom would understand since she’s a doctor. But I’ve used that excuse so many times over the past two years, I know my family doubts me. I don’t need to raise their suspicions right now.

With everything packed up, I ease the hotel room door open and use my cell phone camera to look down the hallway, angling it so I can see there’s a man by the elevators. I yank my phone back as he looks in my direction. I wait for him to sound the alarm or come investigate, but nothing happens.

I slip out while looking toward the elevator. I silently close the door. I’m taking a chance since Joaquin or Javier might have posted somebody at the stairwell. I head casually down the hall toward the stairs, trying not to look suspicious.

If anybody asks why I’m using the stairs instead of the elevator, I’ll say there was a large man standing at the elevator, and he made me uncomfortable. It’s not a lie. I head down two flights before stepping into the hallway. I’m not in as good a shape as I once was, and I’m winded from those two flights of stairs. I hop in the elevator to ride the rest of the way down, chancing he has men outside of the elevator in the lobby.

The doors ping open, and I’ve never been so glad it’s raining outside as I am now. I pull my hood up over my ball cap and zip my coat all the way up. I cover my nose and mouth with the collar, and my cap shades my eyes.

The hood keeps anyone from seeing the bits of my blonde hair that poke out from beneath the hat. The Diazes have a man in the lobby. He’s pretty unobtrusive, but after growing up next door to the second most senior member of the Cartel, I know what to look for. My time with Drew confirmed it.

While I miss the tank of an SUV I had, which was perfect for winter in Albany, I’m glad I have something much more inconspicuous. I left my SUV behind when I ran. Instead, I have Maine plates on a small gas-hybrid hatchback. Part of the money I saved paid for it. I used my fake identification to register it. I considered putting on fake plates. I couldn’t risk getting pulled over and having the cops run them. I toss my bags in the trunk and snap closed my umbrella as I climb in.

I need to get away from here, then I can plan further what I’m going to do next. I can’t wait around in the parking lot to make up my mind. I’m in a part of Brooklyn I don’t know very well, but I have a pretty good idea of where I am. I didn’t want to go somewhere near my family in Queens. But I wanted to be somewhere where I could get to them fast if I absolutely had to.

Once I’m back on the road, the image of Javier entering with his gun drawn fixes in my mind. I always thought he was the hottest of theTres J’s. Javier, Jorge, and Joaquin. There’s not an ugly one in that family. Enrique’s a silver fox. Luis is too much like a second father for me to find him attractive. Same thing with Pablo; he’s too much like a brother. But I can acknowledge they’re good looking.

Their other cousin, Alejandro, is the pretty one in the family. The one that’s almost too hot to be true. There’s one in each of the four families. In the bratva, it’s Pasha. In the Mafia, it’s Lorenzo. In the mob, it’s Finn.

But there’s always been something about Javier that could drop my panties in a heartbeat. I haven’t seen him in years, but nothing’s changed about that. Yeah, Joaquin was there, but it wasn’t because he was behind Javier for most of it that I barely noticed him. It wasn’t because Javier did most of the talking. It’s his overall aura. There’s something about the man that’s drawn me to him since we were in high school.

If he realizes who I am, there’s no way he’ll ignore me. It’s only a matter of time before he finds me if he deduces my real identity.

Chapter Three

Javier

I’ve been sitting outside the hotel for the last six hours staring at a whole lot of nothing. Once I figured out the woman was Madeline Doyle, I knew I couldn’t ignore what I saw. It tempted me all over again to call Maks to find out whether he knew his sister-in-law was back in town. The bruises on her wrist bothered me before I remembered her, but they alarm me now. But I keep my suspicions to myself because she obviously doesn’t want her family to know she’s here. If she did, she would be with them, not in a hotel in Brooklyn. I keep telling myself that to assuage my guilt for not saying anything to anyone.

I went up to her room when I arrived and knocked, but she didn’t answer. I considered using the key card to just walk in without invitation. But I’ve already done that once, and I doubt I’d get as warm a reception as I did the first time. Instead, I’m sitting in the parking lot like the stalker I am.

At least I’m multi-tasking. I look down at my laptop and study the brief I’m drafting. I have a RICO case—Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act—to litigate. One of our men got picked up for extortion. He was running a hushmoney scheme with his employer that he screwed the pooch on. He fucked it up every which way from Sunday.

“Joaquin, I need the phone records. Without those, I can’t prove his boss was in on it.”

Therein lies the rub. The fucker got his boss involved, thinking it would lessen the share he owes us. They stole from the company together rather than our guy putting his employer to the screws. I’d let them both rot in white-collar prison, but to do that, I’d have to lose the case. That shit ain’t happening.

I don’t need the lawyers in the other families thinking I’m slipping. Reputation is everything in this world, and I can’t afford to have mine tarnished. At least, not my courtroom one. Thanks to shit that’s gone down over the past few years, my family’s entire reputation got flushed down the shitter by my cousin Juan. Thank God thatcabrónis dead. He was about to be our undoing. I feel bad for my aunt, uncle, and cousin Pablo. But not that bad.

“I told you I’m working on it. What’s up with you? You’ve been in la la land since the meeting yesterday. Now you’re snapping at me.”

“Sorry. I’m still annoyed the receptionist gave us the wrong room number. I want to know if that was intentional. Did Luigi set us up?”

“I don’t think it’s Luigi or the employee. I think it was the woman.”

I brace for my brother saying Madeline’s name and pointing out that we know her. When he says nothing more, I wonder if he’s waiting for me to admit recognizing her.

“That was messy. You know I don’t like messes.”

I’m not a neat freak, but I am—particular.

“Are you worried she’ll figure out who we are and go to the police?”

No. I’m worried she’ll go to Maks.