We’d run together in our youth. He’d taught me the arts of interrogation and killing as taught to him by his father. We’d been holy terrors, which had soothed the anger.
I couldn’t lie and say that I didn’t savor the old methods when the Torres Cartel had been considered highly lethal, nothing more than brutal beasts in our methods.
We moved in formation, remaining silent as we approached. The darkness hid our approach, although we weren’t worried about being seen on the security cameras. The element of surprise was based on the intel we’d received. The one good thing I could say about Eduardo and his significant hold on several territories was that he had informants everywhere.
Jago flanked my side, motioning to the four soldiers who’d accompanied him to head around back. “We go in the front.”
There were several other vehicles, most relics having seen better days. Except for the SUV as provided by Eduardo for Jago and Kruz’s arrival. The man had a fleet of them, all mostly bulletproof given the danger surrounding the area.
The building itself was nondescript, very few windows carved out of the metal sheathing.
Even though they appeared blacked out, a bare minimum of lighting reflected around the perimeter. The five of us moved toward the door, remaining cautious.
I stood in front of the door, glancing from one side to the other before turning the handle.
That’s when shots rang out.
We quickly entered, fanning out. I’d had a brief description of the building and where the product was being kept. I’d heard the basics of operation from Santos, the soldier who’d been my main source of information since my arrival. He was Eduardo’s most trusted man, someone who’d come up through the ranks.
For various reasons, I didn’t trust the man.
Which was why I’d been hesitant about this particular mission. If you could call it that.
As we rushed inside, the sound of gunfire continued.
Almost everything was what I’d expected including the heavy fluorescent light fixtures hanging from the rafters. There were shouts in Spanish, some issuing commands to drop weapons, but there was also something else.
The moment I went from the front room, the area nothing more than storage to another, I realized what hadn’t been disclosed. There were men and woman cowering in corners and under tables, terror in their eyes. Their tattered clothes indicated they were essentially slaves, processing the cocaine.
Fuck. Just seeing the tables lined with white powder, vials of another substance used to cut the cocaine before distribution was an intense sight.
The entire back half looked like a chem lab straight out of college, from test tubes and microscopes to other scientific equipment I’d never laid eyes on. The entire setup was an indication that significant money had been spent. There was also another room and with the dim lights, I could make out crates of chemicals.
We’d never operated this way.
Jago roared from behind me before firing off several shots.
Two soldiers went down.
While it was difficult to tell the enemy from Eduardo’s men, I acted on instinct. A shadow crossed my periphery of vision and I dropped and rolled.
Pop! Pop!
The man dropped, his lifeless body falling next to a petrified woman. “Bajar!”
Get down, I’d yelled in Spanish. When she didn’t move, her eyes open wide and glassy, I grabbed her by the arm, shielding her a split second before another shot would have killed her. Pushing her down, I offered a smile, telling her to stay behind the group of boxes.
She gripped my arm, the tiny smile yanking at another level of rage. Eduardo wasn’t a good man. He and I would have a long discussion about how he handled employees.
Another shadow appeared in the corner of my eye. Reacting on instinct, I lunged forward, throwing a single punch that sent him pitched backward by several feet. His weapon flew from his hand, skittering across the concrete floor.
While there were at least two members of the Alcarez Cartel in the melee as evidenced by their matching tats covering their arms, a few of Fassi’s men had joined in the attack.
I issued several additional brutal jabs before noticing a scar on the man’s neck. Hissing, I realized the scar was a brand. Fassi’s men were branded much like Eduardo’s with a small tattoo, a skull and a sword. At least the money spent on the informant hadn’t been in vain.
The soldier went for his weapon, but I kicked him in the gut, this time sending him sprawling to the floor. I grabbed his shirt, lifting him to his feet then throwing three more punches. The sharp crack as his nose was broken brought a smile to my face. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. I pitched him to the floor and snagged his weapon, shoving it into my jacket pocket.
The fucker was down for the count.
