Page 10 of Descent into Madness

“I understand. Call me when you know. No time limit or anything.” Luca hands me his business card.

All it has is his name and cell phone number on it. I run my finger over the ridges of the ink on the expensive card stock. I’m reminded of the card in my bedroom that I’ve run my fingers over so often the numbers are nearly worn away.

Closing the door behind them, I try to make it to my room before my father appears. I’m almost there when he calls my name.

Forcing a meek smile. “Yes, Father.”

“Why the hell did you tell them no?”

Of course, he was probably listening to every word. I search desperately for a reason he’ll accept. “I don’t want to go to Colombia—”

The back of his hand smacks me across the cheek. My head goes back into the wall. “Youwillmarry him. You will get down on your knees and give a prayer of thanks Manuel Rodriguez is going to marry you. Don’t you dare fuck this up for me—or you. This is for you as much as me.”

My head is ringing. “Please—” The word causes the pain to explode even more until I wonder if I’ll throw up. My legs give out, sending me to the floor. Please, please just let it be the one blow.

It used to be a smack here or there, but lately, once he starts, he doesn’t stop until he’s tired. The bruises on my back and side have barely faded from the last beating. He’s usually smarter than to hit me on the face.

“You will marry him. Or your mother doesn’t get another dime. There is no more money, you idiot. If you don’t marry him, I’m throwing your ass out of this house with the clothes on your back.” He leaves me crying on the floor.

The way they always do, the fantasies of running far from my father loop through my mind. Except I won’t. I can’t. To leave means leaving my mother behind. Her words of not going against him and to honor him taunt me daily.

I wouldn’t care if it were me. While I don’t have a lot of money saved from my job, and as much as I hate it, I could survive without his money. But my mother can’t. She’s too fragile. If my father stopped supporting her, it might cause another breakdown.

I have no choice… Wait, he said he wouldn’t marry someone who didn’t want to marry him. But if I don’t, I’ll never forgive myself if it hurts my mom.

CHAPTER4

Manuel

Richie Angelo is unfurling. The man he is today is not the man he was even six months ago. Over the years, we’ve encountered each other in business, yet never dealt directly. Until a year ago, when his wife was deported to her home country.

Richie asked me and my family to assist his wife with settling back in Bogota after more than twenty-five years gone. We had property we were willing to rent her and there were people we trusted we could recommend to work for her. In the last year I’ve done business with Richie and found him an unreliable partner to the extent I declined the last few times he asked to work together again.

Since we ship almost a hundred tons of cocaine all over the world in any given week, I don’t accompany every shipment. But if the shipment is big enough with concern of it being hijacked, or there is a message to be passed between my family and the receiver of the shipment then I will. I arrived yesterday with a shipment of cocaine for the Levin family who heads the Bratva here.

While the shipment is large, and the Levin family are firm business partners, there had not been a plan to come to Chicago. However, Richie sent a message a few days ago, asking if we could meet. Richie made it clear the reason for seeing me was for me alone.

I have done things separate from the interests of the Rodriguez cartel if I believe it will benefit me. Most often, it’s killing a person since I kill easily due to no feeling of guilt, fear, or all the rest. My only thought of self-preservation and not to get caught ensures the death of an enemy is done quickly, quietly, and efficiently.

My family and I take payment in the form of favors and information rather than money when it came to business separate from our cocaine. When we have more money than we could spend in a lifetime, adding more isn’t always what we are after.

Our payment from the Levin family is in a mix of money and weapons when they have what we want. For shipments that stay in South America, it’s not cocaine, it’s weapons.

Richie thinks I agreed to this meeting out of respect and a trade of information, it’s not. Now that Isa Ortiz is not an option as a wife, I want Nicolette.

Richie doesn’t seem to have any care for the girl. All the pictures of Nicolette in his office are with her mother. He’s spoken of her only a few times, usually in regard to how much she misses her mother.

Between her mother being in Colombia and the way she cared about Franco’s children, the girl is my best option. It isn’t me making a decision based on my cock—my father raised me to be smarter than that.

I believe with her being raised to make a marriage for power and position instead of love, she’ll accept the marriage. I also have a positive relationship with her mother. Gabrielle Angelo speaks lovingly of her daughter every time I visit her, clearly missing her. Those things combined with Nicolette’s clear love of her mother, she might be more willing to accept a life in Colombia.

While her mother is in Bogota, it’s only an hour by plane from Medellin. At the very least, Gabrielle will assist her daughter in settling into a marriage not based on love. Despite Gabrielle growing to love her husband, she bitterly admitted to me she only married him for his money and the safety she thought it would bring her.

Studying the far from attractive Richie Angelo, I wonder how much money he had when he met his beautiful wife. As he runs a meaty hand over his sweaty face, I think his wife sold herself for far less than she deserved.

“I have a problem. There’s an FBI agent after me. She can tie me to your family. Making her disappear isn’t an option anymore. You know how Feds are about killing other Feds. Even dirty ones like her. If she isn’t dead in a way that can’t lead back to me, it’s going to negatively affect my freedom and your family’s ability to do business.” Richie sighs. “I’ve paid her so much, I don’t have anymore. No payment means charges.”

Both Felix and I hold dual citizenship in the United States and Colombia. The same as my father—my grandfather thought far ahead. Within Colombia, we’ve created a peaceful production and exportation of cocaine with the focus of it becoming the same bloodless product as our coffee bean business. We have succeeded.

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