Page 114 of Cartel King

We turn away from each other and stare out our windows for the rest of the ride to Hoboken. It’s just as well we finished arguing because Alejandro briefs us along the way. All four sets of headlights go off when we’re three blocks out. We turned off our phones before leaving my neighborhood. We’ll rely on our radios again. There are sixty-five Amerindian languages spoken in Colombia, and my family speaks one of the most obscure.Macaguán’sspoken by only a handful of people in a remote part of the extreme north near the Venezuelan border. We use it when we’re on missions because no one will understand us.

All Four Families revert to their native languages when they don’t want anyone to understand them, but Spanish is too prevalent in America. It makes nothing a secret, so our family has preserved the indigenous language passed down over many generations from our ancestors before they migrated to Bogotá. We use it in Colombia too since as few as five hundred people speak it.

“Ready.”

Alejandro’s voice fills my ear. As our chief strategist, he’s already planned the mission. It’s also his mother we’re rescuing. Matías is with us, but he’s injured. He’ll stay back with the vehicles with two other guards. I still need to speak to him about what happened, and until I do, I don’t want him in the middle of this.

Javier hands me my rifle, and I fall into formation. Alejandro takes the lead, but I’m right behind him. I’ll never send anyone ahead of me. The only person ever in front of me is the mission leader. When we’re in the thick of things, I’m just another fighter. We protect each other equally.

When my nephews were younger and still training, they believed they had to put me ahead of everyone else because of my role. I made it clear everyone is equal during missions. No one sacrifices someone else for me. The best way they can show their loyalty is to protect each other. That lesson’s saved all of us at some point.

We’re wearing our NVGs, so everything is black and green. We move in formation as the teams fan out when the warehouse is in front of us. We break off, going to our designated entrances. I’m with Alejandro and Joaquin. Javier and Jorge work as partners, and Luis and Pablo are a pair. They’re so much alike it’s like watching one man with two bodies. They never need to speak, just knowing what the other needs or will do. They gravitate to each other when Luis goes on missions. When he’s away and can’t, then Pablo and Alejandro partner.

I watch Joaquin with his lock picking kit as he gets the front door open. I wait for an alarm or for the door to at least squeak. Nothing. My nephews and I ease inside and look around. There’s a heavy chemical odor that saturates the air. This isn’t some place to spend much time without a mask. It makes finding Catalina imperative.

Alejandro taps my left shoulder, and I look over at him. He points to a door with a sign saying Office beside it. I nod. His cursory investigation showed no property records for this building, and there wasn’t time for Joaquin to dig more. We need to know who owns this place.

Once more, Joaquin jimmies the lock. Immediately, the three of us set to work getting filing cabinets open. Alejandro and I both have our lock kits, too. We comb through documents, and it’s only a couple minutes before all three of us look up with a paper in our hands.

“O’Rourkes.” Alejandro says it, and Joaquin and I agree.

“What the fuck do they want with your mama? What do they have to do with Ellie?”

I’m going to fucking murder Dillan O’Rourke. I don’t give a damn what the rules are about putting hits on your peers. I don’t give a fuck about maintaining a balance of power. Thatjuemadre—the Colombian slang for son of a bitch—targeted two women in my family. I’ll fucking kill the entire O’Rourke clan.

“Trash it.”

We work together to pull apart the office. We yank filing cabinets apart, the drawers strewn across the room. Joaquin shoots the fire detector and the sprinklers before we set fire to the papers in the drawers, counting on the metal to contain them long enough for us to get to the others and get Catalina out. We’ve heard nothing on our radios, so no one’s found her yet. I’m the last one out of the office, so I lock the door behind us.

We creep toward the main floor just as voices fill the air. My nephews and I sprint forward, entering the expansive storage area as the first round of gunfire unleashes. I shove Alejandro, who bumps into Joaquin. The three of us dive behind a stack of barrels. We ease around them, flanking men I don’t recognize. If this doesn’t end fast, a stray bullet’s likely to cause something to explode.

My men outnumber them two to one. Our enemy’s quickly picked off, but the clear leader is cornered with three of my guys blocking his escape. I recognize him. As I approach, Pablo’s voice fills my ear with one word inMacaguán.

“Found.”

I look over my shoulder at Alejandro and tilt my head in the direction we came. He takes off to find his mother. Joaquin and I keep our rifles raised as we step around my men.

“Gareth O’Brien, what the fuck are you doing in Hoboken? I thought Seamus made it clear your ass is to never leave Trenton again.”

“I don’t take orders from Seamus O’Rourke.”

“Yeah, you do, but if you’re here, does that mean Dillan orchestrated this?”

Gareth O’Brien is young. He’s still pretty new to his position as Trenton’s mob boss. His father died, and it was a blessing to the world. But Gareth still has a lot to learn, and he’s in the shit up to his eyeballs with the O’Rourkes. The O’Briens were already the O’Rourkes vassals. They became mere peons after Seamus practically castrated them for the shit they allowed to happen to the woman Seamus fell in love with. He’s just as protective of his wife as any of the other married syndicate men. They must be working their way back into Dillan’s good books.

Shame Gareth won’t live long enough to do that.

“Fuck off, Enrique.”

“He thinks he has balls,tío. Should I shoot him and find out?” Javier joins us along with Jorge.

“Not yet.”

That doesn’t stop me from swinging my rifle around and thrusting the butt into his junk. He doubles over and gags but says nothing. I drive my right fist into his face when he bends forward. The force sends him sailing backward.

“Why did Dillan set this up? Why my sister?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

---