Page 36 of Tainted Blood

The last thing I want to do is to keep that son of a bitch alive for a second longer, but releasing Sanders isn’t the only concession I’ll make in the fight to find my family. The Carreras and Santiagos will never be allies. Still, the only way to end a war isn’t to fight my enemy…it’s to fight beside him.

Grayson nods at the wall of armed men behind us, sending them scattering into formation. “This meeting is adjourned. We’ll cover more ground by following up on separate leads. I’ll head down to Canal Street and pay our Italian friends a visit.”

“We’ll keep tracking the containers,” I affirm, but even as I say it, I know it’s not enough. My soul craves blood. “Better still, a trip to New Haven is in order. Since Mahoney is so fond of showing up uninvited to places, I’ll be happy to return the favor.”

“We keep each other informed, and then meet back here in six hours.”

“Make it five.” At his raised eyebrow, I add, “There’s no time to play games with this Irish fuck. He talks, or he doesn’t. Either way he gets a bullet between his eyes.”

The first of many to come.

The same beast of a sicario who met us at the door reappears. “This way, Señor Carrera. Time to escort you to your vehicles.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“I’m afraid Señor Grayson insists.”

I glance over to find a hint of amusement on the Colombian’s face.

Bastard.

I’m preparing to get the fuck out of this shithole when every phone in the vicinity goes off.

RJ answers immediately, while Grayson scowls down at his device. Rolling my neck, I check my caller ID before answering.

“What’s wrong, Rocco? Sanders demanding an exit parade?”

“Elizabeth Terminal just went up in smoke.”

All the noise in my head goes quiet. It’s the kind of silence that spreads serenity like a balm before advancing with a knife. At the same time, I hear Grayson lose his cool on the other side of the warehouse.

Swinging around, we catch each other’s eye.

“Our Newark port is in flames,” I accuse.

“So is Red Hook Terminal,” he snarls.

A dark thought enters my head. It’s all I can do not to voice it without ramming my fist through the wall.

“What part of the terminal was hit?” I ask Rocco.

“The south office. The one housing our contact.”

“¡Hijo de su puta madre!”

Losing all self-control, my fist collides with a nearby concrete support, sending shards of pain all the way up my shoulder—appearing to rattle the rafters. It’s not until a second blast takes out the wall behind Santiago, pitching us in all directions like bowling pins, that the truth hits me as hard as losing Thalia did.

This meeting isn’t ending with bullets.

It’s ending with bombs.

Chapter Nine

Thalia

“Leave her alone, pinche cabrónes! Fucking assholes!”

“Lola, stop!” I grab her flailing arms and tug her away from the four guards who have come to escort me to Il Labirinto.

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