He’d come here in hopes of pleading his case to Moreno, but he hadn’t known what kind of greeting he’d receive. He’d calculated a fifty-fifty chance of being executed on the spot. It was a risk he’d had to take, because he needed Moreno’s help, and he had nowhere else to go. He would be too vulnerable at a hospital. The police would lock him up and throw away the key. If Los Rojos caught him, his odds of survival plummeted to zero.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“I have orders to hold you,” Jorge replied.
“Until when?”
“Until I hear otherwise.”
“Where’s El Jefe?”
Jorge was silent for a moment. “There was an incident in Salsipuedes. Moreno is injured. Peña and his crew are dead.”
Chingado. The man who’d shot him in the back was dead. That was good news for Armando, bad news for the cartel.
“What about the shipment?”
“Police seized it. They almost got El Jefe too. They’ve been crawling all over his residences in San Diego and Tijuana.”
Armando’s gut clenched with unease. The cartel leader couldn’t run his business under these conditions. Their operations in the United States were fractured. It was the perfect time for Los Rojos to strike. They’d been itching to take over Tijuana and replace Moreno. No one connected to Moreno was safe. That was why Jorge and Domingo were here.
“Hermano,”he said, appealing to his sense of brotherhood. “We are sensible men, not young hotheads. I’m loyal to El Jefe, and I’ll fight alongside him, but I can’t stay here any longer. Let me go now, and I’ll go in peace.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Armando lowered his voice. “I have a daughter. She’s in danger.”
“Ay cabrón,”Jorge replied. “You’re not the only one with a family.”
“Please,” he said, growing desperate. But his plea fell on deaf ears. Jorge had turned off his radio. Armando stared at the device in his hand, furious. He fought the urge to throw it across the room. This landscape maintenance motherfucker wanted to mess with him? Armando would cut him to pieces with gardening shears.
“Sounds like it didn’t go your way,” the doctor said.
It was Armando’s turn to give her a dirty look. “If it doesn’t go my way, it doesn’t go your way.”
“How do you figure?”
“We leave together, or not at all.”
She blinked in surprise. “Is that what he said?”
“Yes,” he lied. She was a typicalgringawho didn’t understand Spanish. He doubted she could help him escape this place, but she was here. He might as well make her an ally. It was better than watching his back. She would try to drug or attack him at the first opportunity.
She stared at him with resentment. He was the devil she knew, so she nodded her agreement. “I’m Caitlyn.”
He attempted it. “Kate-Lan.”
She didn’t bother to correct his pronunciation. “I’ve already searched this place up and down. There’s nothing to use as a weapon, and no way out, other than the door.”
“What about this?” he asked, indicating the morphine.
“It’s administered intravenously. I can’t stab someone in the muscle and expect it to work. Besides, they don’t come in.”
He studied the heavy wooden door. It was rock solid. There was no lock to pick, and slamming against it would get them nowhere. He didn’t think there were any cameras or listening devices installed, but he lowered his voice. “You can lure the boy inside and I’ll overpower him.”
“How am I going to lure him inside?”
He gave her a brief inspection. She was pretty enough, even tired and unwashed. She had breasts. Too pale for his taste, but she was okay. The problem wasn’t her, it was their target. Domingo was young and green. He’d probably run the other way when propositioned by a mature woman. “You could ask him for something special, like soap and a change of clothes.”
“He’ll put it through the slot.”
“Then ask him to let you out to take a bath. I’ll pretend to sleep. As soon as he opens the door, I’ll grab him and put the needle to his neck.” He picked up one of the covered syringes and placed it against his jugular to demonstrate.
She recoiled in horror. “I don’t want to help you hurt anyone.”
He dropped his hand, frustrated. “What do you suggest? Asking nicely to be released?”
“Isn’t that what you just did?”
His irritation mounted. He didn’t like the fact that she’d heard him beg. His mind flashed back to a memory of her begging him not to take her anywhere. He didn’t like that, either. He tossed aside the syringe and smothered the image of her tearful face. Then he put his conscience in a chokehold, applying pressure until there was nothing left.
