Page 234 of Dirty Pleasures

“Good. She must get her rest.” I took my cousin in.

Exhaustion covered his face. His eyes were heavy and drooping, dark circles etched underneath. At least a new bandage was wrapped around his body.

Clean and white.

It was a stark contrast against his dirt-stained clothes.

I frowned. “Go to sleep, Tisha.”

He shook his head. “I am on right now. I will sleep later—”

“You are tired and—”

“Sinaloa Cartel delivered sicarios to New Orleans.”

Goddamn it.

The weight of Tisha’s words brought all that pressure back to my chest.

Sicarios. . .here. . .and so close to my sons and mouse. . .

The term wasn’t foreign to me. In fact, it’s very mention conjured images of cold-blooded assassins.

The sicarios were the stuff of dark legends, a nightmare brought to life from the underbelly of the criminal world.

Brutal psychos with no code.

No mercy.

No remorse.

Vicious men and women drenched in bloodlust.

They would slaughter a man’s mother, wife, and kids right in front of him, and then take his life after hours of torture.

Even the Brotherhood had a thin moral line to keep us somewhat human.

They had nothing.

No lines.

No souls.

I gritted my teeth. “So, Sinaloa has decided to raise the stakes, even higher.”

Tisha’s nod was grave. “I have discussed this with King David.”

I quirked my brows.

He is king now?

Back in Moscow, Tisha had joked about David’s title. After tonight. . .Tisha now chose to call him king.

Apparently, my number one had utterly earned my cousin’s respect.

I smirked. “What did you and David discuss?”

“The Cartel knew we blocked ports and all ways into New Orleans. David and I believe that the strip club bombing was not truly about killing you or Emily.”