Page 2 of Kade

“You’re wrong.” He tightened his grip around her throat, cutting off her air. She squirmed, trying to get away, but he rolled on top of her, coming to rest with his knees on either side of the small woman. “I could snap your neck and toss you in the dumpster behind the warehouse we’re going to.”

She struggled, bucking, but he simply squeezed her neck tighter.

“I know what you’re thinking. People saw you get into this vehicle. Cameras, evidence…” He grinned. “All I have to do is make a phone call, and all that evidence gets scrubbed clean. And those eyewitnesses? They’ll forget what they saw, or they’ll disappear. We never get caught. You’re not safe, Mona. The day you agreed to mule drugs for us, your life became ours to do with as we pleased.”

He eased his grip, and she drew in a small sip of air. He let his other hand cup her breast, twisting the nipple harshly. “Do you understand, Mona?”

Her eyes dilated, the fear finally beginning to show, but she didn’t nod. This woman. He shook his head and pinched her nipple harder, pulling a cry of pain from her.

“Do you understand?”

She nodded after a moment, and he let her go, sitting back down on his side of the SUV. Thisputawas going to learn her lesson today. Of that, he’d made up his mind. Everyone in the organization understood their place, and Mona was going to get it through her head if he had to beat her bloody.

They rode in silence for the next half hour as the driver took them into the Bronx. They pulled into the abandoned apartment complex Hector operated out of. There were no guards on the front. It wasn’t only whores who were stupid. Dealers who thought themselves kingpins suffered from the same affliction.

He opened his door and dragged Mona out. Mateo joined him without having to be told. They approached the front entrance, and again, no guards met them. It wasn’t until they descended into the basement that he ran into a guard.

“Buying or selling?” The tall black man stared down at Juan, his expression a no-nonsense one. At least they’d put someone who could do some damage on the door. He looked like a boxer.

“Juan Ramirez to see Hector.” His quiet voice belied the danger behind the words.

“I don’t know a Juan Ramirez.’

“Hector does.” He put a bit of a bite into his tone and the guy stared at him for a heartbeat longer, debating, but opened the door and allowed him inside.

Juan shook his head. None of their guards back home would have been stupid enough to let an unknown individual into the heart of one of their drug houses. He would have been verified first. These New Yorkers. None of them understood anything.

The basement itself was a hive of activity. Three rows of tables had been set up along one wall where drugs were being cut and packaged. Another two rows of tables took up the other wall where people sat counting money. Never have your money and your drugs in the same location. That was the first rule of the cartel. The police might get the drugs or the money, but they’d never get both. Laziness.

He spotted Hector laid back on the deep red velvet couch enjoying a blow job from a dark-haired woman. His whore, most likely, or one of the gang’s girls who serviced any of the male members when required. He had his eyes closed, sweat outlining his brow, while he moaned at the talented little mouth pleasuring him.

Juan watched them, his own cock twitching. Theputaseemed to know what she was doing. He let out a long breath when the girl did something that brought Hector’s ass up off the couch, and a deep groan escaped the man. Perhaps Juan would taste the girl himself.

He strode over and pulled the girl from Hector by the hair and tossed her aside. The man’s eyes opened, the glare dying when he saw the gun pointed at his cock. For a man like Hector, the loss of his manhood would be more detrimental than anything else Juan could do to him. Unfortunately, death was in the cards for Hector.

The sound of the gun echoed through the room louder than even Hector’s screams as blood gushed from his cock. It wouldn’t kill him quickly. He’d have to bleed out, but it would ensure he listened to Juan and that everyone here heard what he had to say.

“You think we don’t know everything, Hector? We don’t know you’re skimming money from the prostitution rings, overselling the drugs, and keeping a share? This is not your operation. It is the cartel’s operation, and you are nothing.”

“I wasn’t…” Hector pressed down on the wound, trying to stem the blood and stop the pain. “I…”

Juan fired the gun again, and it hit Hector’s kneecap. Another scream rolled out of the man.

“Don’t lie to me, boy. You think I would be here if we didn’t have proof?” He fired another bullet into the man’s foot. “You knew what would happen if you cheated us. We told you the rules from day one, and you thought you were smarter than we were. That you wouldn’t get caught. Stupid.”

He saw Mateo out of the corner of his eye. The boy stood stoic, his eyes fixed on the horrific scene in front of him, but they burned with rage. Juan needed to find a way to flip that rage to the side of the cartel. He worried the kid would never be an asset to the cartel. He was too much like his father, but that wouldn’t deter Juan from doing his best.

“Mateo, come here.”

The boy shuffled over to him, his spine stiff and his eyes downcast.

“What happens to those who betray us?”

“They are punished.” The boy looked at Hector, his expression as emotionless as his voice.

Juan put a bullet right between Hector’s eyes, and Mateo never flinched. At least the boy was learning to compartmentalize.

He pointed to Hector’s second in command. “You are now in charge. You see what happens when you cross us?”

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