Page 45 of Cartel King

My guards are Tommaso’s men, so they use the Italian honorific. But they know not to use my real last name.

“No. Luca, I’m fine. They wouldn’t dare.”

No one believes that as we board the helicopter. I fully expected to die, and I still very well may. I played a dangerous game I couldn’t guarantee I’d win. I’m exhausted by the time I return to the hotel where I’m staying. There’s extra security for me here.

It’s not unheard of, so I don’t stand out too much with guards outside my door and my window. I trust no one to provide me with anything to eat or drink. I brought all my own bottled water and non-perishable foods. While the cuisine in Brazil is excellent, and I wish I could enjoy it, it’s not worth being poisoned. I’m certain plenty would call me paranoid, but I’ve seen enough counterparts die from something as simple as accepting a bottle of water from hotel staff.

I kick off my shoes and slip out of my cargo pants and blouse. Once I have the pillows adjusted, and I’m comfortable leaning against the headboard, I suck in a deep breath and turn on the portable signal jammers I always travel with. I’m using burners, and all of my boys have them, too.

It didn’t go over well when I explained where I was going. It was much easier when they were younger, and I just told them I was going on a work trip. They’d ask where, and I’d lie, since that’s all they wanted to know. My ex-husband would corroborate that story.

When they got older and started asking for more details, my truth-stretching got more creative. I did my best to keep the lies to a minimum, but they were unavoidable. Once my boys were teenagers and started doing odd jobs for Tommaso and Frank, they figured a lot of shit out. By the time they were in college, they knew who and what I really am.

A mercenary.

They still hold a boatload of anger and resentment about that. They’ll always direct some of it toward me because I’m not the mom they thought they had. But most of it is toward their dad for not protecting me and keeping me out. The rest of it is toward Tommaso for sucking me in and digging his claws in.

Steve and Hunt are Mafia-adjacent. They still go on missions when Tommaso insists, but that’s extremely rare. Sometimes they do an odd job here and there for him, but they keep their noses clean.

Will wasn’t as fortunate as the oldest. The don—Tommaso—andconsigliere—Frank—lured him in, and Tim did nothing to stop it. Fortunately, Will created a reputation for himself early on as a wrestler, then bare-knuckle boxer. Very few take him on.

He got my ability to look at numbers, sort them out, and just know what they mean. I’m faster at mental math than anyone I know except for Will. He’s a stockbroker on paper, but he handles the Vizzinis’ investments. I’ve worked alongside him to make sure the creative accounting doesn’t draw too much attention from the SEC and the IRS.

Me

Fine

I send one word to the boys. I won’t risk a longer message than that. For now, they know it means the initial meeting went fine. When I’m on the plane, and I’m over international water, I’ll send another one.

I expect no response from them, so when nothing comes in, it’s not unusual. I swallow my disgust as I dial a phone number I always hate remembering. It rings twice.

“Elle.”

“The meeting’s done. I’ll have what I came for tomorrow morning.”

“What about the rest of it?”

“It’ll be done by the time I said it would.”

“How much are you skimming off the top?”

“It’s not skimming off the top when it’s a separate negotiation and deal. You’ll get yours. I’ll get mine.”

“You’ve always been sneaky like that.”

“Is this really the conversation you want to have when I’m about to have all your money and could go anywhere in the world with it? It’s not wise to antagonize me right now. Believe me, I’m in no hurry to stay here any longer than I have to. The moment I’m free to leave, I will.”

“Good work.”

I roll my eyes. Compliments from Tommaso are few and far between, and rarely are they genuine. I’m certainly not foolish enough to think he means those two words. I end the call and toss the burner on the bedside table.

I chose the clothes I packed with a purpose. I glance over at the closet and see the second pair of black cargo pants, the black turtleneck, the black hoodie, and the black boots on the floor beneath my pants. That’s tomorrow night’s ensemble. For now, I’m going to get whatever sleep I can when I refuse to close both eyes.

“Is that Ignacio’s man?”

I jut my chin toward a shady-ass looking guy. I have two different escorts today from the ones I had yesterday. Tommaso lined it all up for me, and these are guys from back home who speak Portuguese. They’ve traveled with other Vizzinis down here. They blend in as well as I do, but I’m never seen with the same two men two days in a row. The same men would make me too memorable.

We’re in one of the roughestfavelasin Rio. It’s not somewhere I enjoy hanging out, but it allows me to stay in the car because nobody would think twice about a woman not wanting to walk along the street.

---