Page 143 of Jagger's Remorse
I make it look like cartel infighting, use soldiers Eduardo lent me, but have Iron Veins members visible enough to show our partnership is stronger than ever.
The media calls it the bloodiest weekend in California cartel history. Thirty-seven dead. Millions in drugs and weapons destroyed.
I call it spring cleaning.
"Jesus," Squirrel says when the dust settles, looking at news reports. "This was you?"
"This was us showing Eduardo we can protect his interests." I lean back in my chair. "We're now the only major club between Sacramento and the Oregon border."
"You did this for Eduardo?"
"I did this for us. Eduardo just gets to appreciate the show."
My phone rings. Eduardo. His voice is weaker than yesterday.
"Impressive,mija.Perhaps too impressive. The FBI woman has noticed."
"Let her notice. We have plans for her."
"Oh?"
"She's fixated on one of our members. Emotionally fucked in the head. It's only a matter of time before she crosses a line she can't come back from."
"And when she does?"
"We'll be waiting."
"Good. Come back to Mexico. Bring your officers. Time for formal arrangements."
"When?"
"Three days. Time..." He coughs, long and wet. "Time is not my friend."
***
Three days later, the entire Iron Veins leadership stands in Eduardo's compound.
He's pulled out all the stops—representatives from every major family, every connection, every pipeline.
The main hall has been transformed into something between a coronation and a cartel summit.
Men in thousand-dollar suits mingle with soldiers in tactical gear.
Languages mix—Spanish, English, Portuguese, Russian.
"Friends," Eduardo addresses the crowd from a throne-like chair, oxygen tank discretely hidden beside him. "You know me. You know I don't make decisions lightly."
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the assembly.
"Scarlett Delgado has proven herself. In blood. In business. In brutality when needed." He gestures to me. "I name her my heir. My voice in California. My hand in Sinaloa operations."
Some applaud. Some look skeptical. One—Ramirez from the Tijuana faction—objects. "She's a woman. And young. This is unprecedented?—"
His words cut off as I put a knife through his hand, pinning it to the table.
The move is so fast most don't see it happen until he's screaming.
"Anyone else have concerns about my gender?" I ask calmly, leaving the knife in place.
