Page 79 of Liar
In a phone call to María, she heard—and then Javier later confirmed—that the Lobos hit hard in a battle fought outside of town limits. In the desert, where the purple-bandana-wearing Z22s stood out like red flags in the dry, dirt-brown environment. No civilian casualties. Marifer lost a lot of men. First battle, a Lobos’ victory.
My attention falls on Hayden, who has paused mid-room. I take a step toward him, but his sharp command stops me. “Make nice with the Sureños.” Everyone jumps. “Understood?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll kiss Ignacio’s ass until you say otherwise, Boss.”
“We do what’s necessary,” Hayden replies, before stalking out of the room with a wake of men trailing behind him.
Ignacio. That petty, womanizing, used-car salesman. He must be enjoying his role as third wheel. Having the power to decide which cartel to side with and swing the odds of winning in their favor. Let’s hope he doesn’t hold any grudges toward Hayden. Or we Lobos will find ourselves flat on our faces, like tamale girl did.
I turn to Javier. “Kissing ass doesn’t seem to be Hayden’s style. Does he believe the Sureños won’t side with us?”
“Diego didn’t tell you?”
“About ...”
“Ignacio has also partnered with the Colombians.”
“Drugs?” Mexico wasn’t always cartel-central. But with the Colombians producing narcotics and the Americans consuming them at record prices, Mexico didn’t stand a chance at remaining uninvolved.
“Marifer set up the groundwork. Distribution channels. Transportation. Supply routes. Trucks and staff. Only to have Ignacio sweep in and offer the Colombians hard American cash to get in on the action.”
“A woman does all the work, and a man takes the credit. Sounds about right.” I bite my lip. “So, the Z22s and Sureños are already partnered together.”
“Not exactly. Marifer’s furious about Ignacio spying on her this entire time. It’s a strained relationship, at best.”
“Which is why the Lobos are to kiss Ignacio’sculo gordo.”
Javier lowers his voice. “Ignacio is ignoring the Boss’s phone calls.”
I roll my eyes. “Ignacio is eating this up, isn’t he?”
“Like flan drizzled with caramel sauce.”
I smile at his reference, though am wincing on the inside as a thought occurs to me. “Maybe I can help.”
Javier shakes his head. “Please don’t. The Bastard can’t afford any distractions.”
“He’s forgotten I’m here.”
“What’s that expression you’re always saying? Look whose smoking peyote?”
“Can I borrow your phone again?”
Javier reluctantly hands it over. “Think your friends can help?”
Friends? No. Not anymore. “I know someone who’s close to Ignacio.” Do I really want to do this after what he’s done? But can I idly sit by while everyone kisses Ignacio’s ass? The idea infuriates me. I spit out the words before I change my mind.
“I have a favor to collect.”
* * *
My father was a patient man. My mother believed good resides inside even the worst of people. I draw on both as I call Eduardo.
“Bueno,” he answers on the second ring, his tone hesitant, probably confused by the unknown number on his caller ID.
“It’s me.”
