Page 9 of Lord of Vengeance

“About?”

“The Day of the Dead coming to Los Angeles.”

The Day of the Dead was a holiday celebration usually held on November first and second every year. It was heavily recognized in Mexico where members of the dead were remembered by creations of altars, vigils and prayers conducted along with parades with people in costumes.

November was a long way off, which made the man’s statements that much more interesting. I nodded, pressing my aching hand against her shoulder. “Okay, why don’t you take the rest of the night off?”

“There’s no need, Mr. Santos. It takes a lot more than a jerk to bother me.”

I laughed given her tenacity. “Good to hear. I’ll make certain he doesn’t bother you any longer.” As I backed out of the room, closing the door behind me, my instinct was already working overtime.

Why would the bastard mention the Day of the Dead?

I headed to the private elevator and to my office, which was located on the sixth floor of the building our family owned. As I headed toward the open door, I heard Ivan already making his brutality known. There were days even I worried about his level of savagery. As I moved into the room, I nodded to the bouncer who remained.

“Any idea how he got inside?”

“No, sir,” Jasper said. “But he didn’t force his way in.”

“Check on the reservation for Sophia for the night. She was notified one of her regular clients, Senator Marcus James, had reserved her. That’s not possible.” Ivan issued another hard punch, the force rattling one of my pictures on the wall. “Careful getting blood on the painting. Its current value is one million dollars.”

“Your love of art is impressive although I’m uncertain about your tastes.” Ivan gave me a mischievous look before grabbing the bloodied man by his shirt, dragging him to one of the chairs in the room.

Jasper nodded, immediately leaving the room.

“I did find something on him you should take a look at.” Ivan guided me toward the other side of the room, as if I cared whether my guest heard me or not. He wasn’t walking out of my office. He would be carted, taken to a watery grave where he belonged.

“What is it?”

He pulled out a baggie, holding it into the air so I could get a good look at it. The heart-shaped pills were colored like sweet-tart candy.

“Any guesses, boss?”

“Fentanyl.”

“I’m no chemist but I’d take that bet.”

The highly addictive drug was ten times more lethal than crack or heroin. Too many innocent people had lost their lives after ingesting even a minuscule amount. With it being dressed to look like candy, it could attract kids and others unsuspecting of what damage could be caused. “He was planning on handing it out.”

“Maybe. I got word there have been several deaths from the drug in Sitka as well.”

“That’s not a coincidence. Dispose of the shit before anyone can get their hands on it. Have the place searched in case the fuck decided to leave some goodies elsewhere. At the same time, check to see if the son of a bitch dropped some fake ID somewhere.”

“Good idea. I’ll have the place swept.”

“I think we should close early as well.”

“That’ll piss off some clients.”

I smirked as I glanced over my shoulder. “Better pissed off than dead.”

“I hear that, boss.”

I moved toward the man, planting my foot on the seat between his legs and leaning over. “So, you have one chance to redeem yourself by telling me who you really are and what you’re doing here. I also need to know why you’re carrying close to a half million in drugs, my friend.”

“Se acerca el Día de Muertos.” While his words were slightly muffled given his swollen lip, I heard his statement well enough.

“What’s the fool rattling on about?” Ivan asked.