Page 30 of Tainted Blood
“Enough!” I roar, the passion in my voice causing both men to turn their heads. “Put your fucking guns down.” When they continue glaring at each other, I raise my voice again. “I said, ‘guns down’! In case you two have forgotten where you are, let me remind you... This is a warehouse in Brooklyn, New York—Santiago-owned territory governed by Edier Grayson’s hand.” I look to where the younger Colombian is watching me like a hawk. “And everyone within these state lines answers to him. Am I right?”
“Santi—”
“In turn, everyone within New Jersey’s borders answers to me,” I say, ignoring my father. “That makes us in charge here. Not you.”
There’s a long pause as my words hit home.
Taking a deep breath, I continue. “Last night, before everything went to hell, New York and New Jersey bridged a temporary alliance. It means that whatever bullshit happened before Sanders and Thalia walked out the doors of my casino and into enemy hands is irrelevant. It ends now... The sins of the fathers just got a fucking absolution by the next generation. Do you hear me?”
“He’s right,” Grayson says, earning himself one of Santiago’s death glares. “We’re not saying there aren’t debts that need to be repaid.” He flicks his dark eyes back to me. “And, trust me, the interest for those is still rising… But fighting amongst ourselves is hurting the women we’re fighting over. Furthermore, I’d like to bring Sanders home before Carrera’s bargain basement stitchwork finishes the job these bastards started.”
I slide him a “fuck you” for that. I could’ve just as easily let him bleed to death.
“I’ll allow it,” Santiago affirms, through gritted teeth. “For now… For Thalia…”
“No estaba pidiendo tu aprobación, cabrón,” my father mutters
The Colombian pins him with a sharp gaze. “I don’t give a fuck if he was asking for my approval, or not. When it comes to the Carreras, I have the final word.”
My father’s lips twitch. “Actually, I believe that was your daughter, when she said, ‘I do’ to my son.”
Another line of dominoes takes aim.
“I suggest we all take a seat and calm down,” Grayson says evenly. “Did your security cameras catch anything?”
“Nothing.” With a grimace, I pull out the nearest chair.
Santiago says nothing as he sinks back down into his own chair and drags the bottle of bourbon toward him. Moving swiftly, Grayson intercepts. He pours out five glasses and pushes each one in our direction.
My father stares at his glass as if he’s just been handed a liquid heart attack. “I’m amenable, not stupid,” he intones, pushing it away with the back of his hand.
I agree. However, I’ve also had enough stress and bullshit thrown at me in the last twelve hours to risk it. Slamming my bourbon, I slide his glass toward me for a second hit. “Problem solved.”
Santiago watches the exchange in silence as he knocks his own drink back. His grip on the glass is a white-knuckle ride. Hell is about to be unleashed, but right now he's still picking at the locks.
“After two failed alliances, what makes you think this one will be any different?”
Picking up my father’s glass, I toss it back in one. “Third time’s the charm. I take it the bourbon is an apology for taking a shot at me last week?”
He frowns. “She didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Not my order, Carrera.”
“How the fuck would Thalia know…?” I trail off with a curse. “You had an insider.”
Santiago’s smile never reaches his eyes. “You think I’d leave my daughter swimming with sharks without a weapon of mass destruction? She was being watched the moment she stepped foot in your apartment. If you’d raised a hand to her, they would have shot it clean off.”
“I’d never raise a hand to her,” I say mildly. “Not in that sense, anyway…”
The cold smile disappears.
“I’ll give you marks for creativity.” I gesture to the bottle and refill my glass. “Bribing my illegal alien housekeeper with a fake green card was inventive.”
Boom.
I already knew the score there, asshole.