Page 59 of Violent Attraction
Fuck me.
Throwing a few black chips to the dealer, I grab my drink and leave my chair.
I guess I can take a gamble with my life and my choice of career but can’t catch a break at the blackjack table.
Walking through the casino, I try to figure out what to do with myself. Finally, the smell of food stops me, and I end up at this restaurant that serves French and Mexican fusion for breakfast. It’s an odd combination but hey, it works, coming from a man with a French Canadian mother, the food is fucking mouthwatering.
Without even thinking, I walk in and grab a table.
Once the waitress comes by and grabs my order, I pull out my phone and the small leather-bound journal that is burning a hole in my back pocket.
The pages are frayed and almost all the small pieces of paper are filled with words that would mean nonsenses to anyone but me. Anything that has to do with what my life and job is written on these pages, in a coded manner of course. It is a combination of three different languages that only I know how to decode. Even Leo looks at me weird when I bring the book out.
I open the book to the section that I have dedicated to Emilio and his family.
The tattoo was the turning point in finding out that he was the one that shot my father, but I have yet to find out why.
The only theory that I could come up with is trying to make a name for himself and for the Castro’s cartel. Taking down someone from the Muertos makes your name known in this world, but that would mean you have to step out and take the light, make your name known.
Up to this point, the only person that knows what Emilio did, is me. It’s not even something that I have mentioned to Leo, because I know if I do, Leo would be the one to pull the trigger and killing the bastard.
The only person that gets to hold a gun barrel to the fucker’s head, is me and only me. I need to be the one that pulls the trigger and see all the blood drain from his worthless skull. And after he’s dead, I will continue to rip his body apart and treat him to the ruthless death that my father endured.
Maybe I can confront him and kill him before Ronaldo calls for a ring to be put on Isabella’s finger.
“Well, if it isn’t an old face.” A male’s voice takes me away from the words jumping out at me from the journal.
When I look up, I have to do a double take at the man in front of me.
Dressed in a well-tailored suit, stand Elliot Lane looking like he comes from the wealthiest family in the world.
Because he does, the lucky bastard.
“Definitely not a face that I thought I would be seeing so early in the morning,” I throw back, giving him a smirk.
“Not disagreeing with you there.” He gives me the cocky smile that I’m sure had the girls going crazy when we were in high school, before holding out a hand to me.
Standing up, we give each other a back slap before he takes the seat across from me at my table.
Elliot Lane.
He’s a rich kid from Chicago, comes from a family that owns more than a few multi-million-dollar businesses. His family is the type to socialize with senators and former United States Presidents, how I came to know him was because his uncle shipped him off to Texas for high school.
The preppy academy that housed me and Leo for four years before cartel life took over.
“How the hell have you been, Santos?” he asks as soon as I’m back in my seat.
I give him a nod. “Keeping alive.”
Elliot knows what Leo and I do for a living and who we do it for. This man is very knowledgeable in what types of things the Muertos Cartel has their noses in. Coming from a family like his, he holds a lot of knowledge about certain things, and makes it so that everyone knows not to cross a Lane.
Come to think of it, I have no idea what he does. I know he helps run the family business, but to what extent? The man is only twenty-seven.
“Heard about your old man. My condolences.” His tone tells me that he is being sincere.
I nod, holding out a drink to him. “Same to you. Heard about your dad passing away while he was overseas a few years back.”
Elliot's face drops slightly. “Thanks, man. Yeah, the man didn’t know when to quit, but he did his country proud.”