Page 35 of Tainted Blood

A criminal’s actions are never without purpose. They’re planned. Calculated. Timed...

Then I remember RJ’s words about the timeline correlation.

Twenty years ago, two cartel kings met at a wedding in Mexico City. It ended in gunfire and bloodshed. Ten years ago, they met again at an old church on a suburban street in Hasbrouck Heights. Again, it ended in gunfire and bloodshed. Seven days ago, a Mexican heir and a Colombian princesa met in a casino in Atlantic City. This time, I’m going to make damn sure it’s only the beginning.

“You two aren’t the only ones who can hold a grudge,” I say flatly. “Mahoney doesn’t have daughters. He had four sons.” I turn to my father. “Until ten years ago, when we killed them all in New Jersey.”

“Sacred Heart,” he mutters, and I watch the years peeling back in his mind. I also see the moment they come to a screeching halt. ¡Hijo de su puta madre! He didn’t give the order to attack the church. He was following one.”

Whoever controlled Ricci’s crew twenty years ago, controlled him ten years ago.

Just like they control him and the Irish now.

“The minute I knew Thalia was gone, I had every main road in New Jersey on lockdown, and all private flights grounded. They would have sailed to New Haven and boarded a jet there.”

The rage I feel in that moment isn’t just vicious. It’s primal. It surpasses the need to kill.

I’ll make them all suffer.

I’ll make them beg for mercy, as my wife and my sister did.

Santiago rises to his feet. “We need to find our daughters, Carrera,” he says, addressing his adversary directly.

Something unspoken passes between them. This is bigger than decades of warfare. It’s about choosing lifelines over bloodlines. It’s about putting aside our differences for two women who have managed to navigate the wasteland between our two cartels, without the need to fire bullets.

For Thalia and Lola, we stand as one.

Starting now.

“If we do this, we do it properly,” I say, jabbing my finger into the lacquered mahogany. “No surprises. No backhands. We fight together, until there’s no longer a reason to do so...”

Until we either rescue Thalia and Lola, or we bury them.

“Agreed.” All eyes turn toward my father as he rises from his chair to join us. “My daughter was born the night of La Boda Roja. My cielito came into this world cursed by a cloud of vengeance. And now, that’s who holds her life in his hands. Lola is the only thing from twenty years ago that matters now. Anything else is insignificant.” The gold flecks in his eyes blaze with intent as he extends a steady hand across the table. “Our children have suffered enough.”

Reaching across the table, Santiago takes his outstretched hand in a fierce hold. “I do this for my own.”

It’s as if the sun and moon have flipped inside out and upside down. Even if I lived a hundred lifetimes, I never thought I’d see Valentin Carrera and Dante Santiago make peace.

When kings pass judgment, there’s no room for misinterpretation.

Fall in line.

A beat later, Grayson and I are cementing our own truce with a similar handshake.

New lines are drawn.

Torches are passed.

The East Coast alliance is sealed.

Slicing through the tension, Grayson gives a curt nod at the phone in my other hand. “Now that’s settled, I want Sanders back in New York immediately. I’d prefer it if he isn’t DOA when he gets here.”

That makes one of us.

I dip my chin in acknowledgement and tap out a short text to Rocco.

Deal is sealed. Let Grayson’s men inside.