Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
I nodded. “Let’s say Carillo is starting his own organization. He’s free to do whatever the fuck he wants. Does he stick to coke, or does he branch out to increase his market?”
He pinched his bottom lip, his mind spinning too. “You wanna cross-reference travel information between Kenya and Myanmar?”
“It would narrow down Squeezy’s search field.” I didn’t know how many men Carillo assigned for this kind of thing, but we did know Rafael Delgado was his closest associate with similar tasks. Hopefully, Vincente could give us more names.
Joel opened his mouth to say something, but we both noticed we began descending, and that killed the topic.
We glanced out our windows.
“That’s gotta be a coastline,” he said.
“We just don’t know which one,” I muttered. In the dark, it was easy to see the towns dotting the edge of wherever we were. So many lights in such small clusters could indicate they were resort towns.
Mexico was packed with those.
Joel hummed. “That looks like an island to the east.”
I saw it just as he finished his sentence. With how the supposed coastline was shaped, Cozumel came to mind. In which case, we were a long fucking way from home. Jesus Christ, Cozumel was in the Caribbean Sea, putting us much closer to Florida than California. Cancún was the closest resort that I knew of.
We’d taken off from Hermosillo, and we’d been in the air for four hours now. I’d have to check to be sure, but Cozumel sounded logical in terms of how long it would take to fly there.
“Are you thinking Cozumel too?” he asked.
I suppressed a sigh. “Yeah.”
A moment later, the flight attendant came over with two black tote bags.
Something told me we weren’t about to go shopping.
“Are you kidding me?” Joel snapped.
The woman answered in Spanish and told us to put them on right now. Then she left again.
“He must have his own runway,” I deduced. We wouldn’t walk through an airport with bags over our heads.
I finished my Coke quickly, then grabbed one of the bags. “See you on the other side.”
He huffed.
We had to be getting close.
The road had been uneven and bumpy for the last six or seven minutes.
Joel better be doing his best to analyze everything too. We’d been separated and handcuffed the minute we’d gotten off the plane. Definitely a new car, presumably an SUV. I had good legroom, and I hadn’t had to duck when I’d gotten in. Leather seats. The new-car smell. You could tell by the shock absorbers alone that it was a newer vehicle.
I could also tell that this was how Vincente treated his friends, because while we’d been handcuffed and forced to put bags over our heads, we still had our guns. One at the base of our spines, the other strapped to our ankles.
I’d like to say this was the first time I’d arrived cuffed and blindfolded to my destination…
I hoped Joel wasn’t worried or letting his anger get the best of him. He should be okay. He might not have field experience beyond what he did on a daily basis, but he still had years of tactical training under his belt.
We finally slowed down, and I became hyperaware of everything happening. The driver rolled down the window. I heard music in the distance. Quiet words were exchanged; I heard my name as well as Joel’s, so they must’ve done their homework. I’d told the guard outside Vincente’s official residence that I was bringing a friend, but I hadn’t mentioned his name.
The sounds of metal clanking and grinding let me know we’d reached a gate of some sort, and we were let through.
The road was suddenly paved again.
The air smelled like ocean, flowers, and soil.
Add marijuana…
The music thumped louder as we got closer.
We drove up a steep hill, possibly to a—yeah, it had to be the driveway. The foundation was even smoother, maybe marble or tiles, and then we stopped.
The driver climbed out at the same time as my door opened, thus starting my head count at two. That person removed the bag from over my head, and I welcomed the gust of fresh but warm air and quickly took in my surroundings. Two more guys. So, four. The circular driveway looked more like a terrace with its terra-cotta-colored tiles and the white-painted concrete wall with potted flowers that surrounded it. Nothing but jungle around us. And this…this big hacienda.
I climbed out of the car, and one of the men removed my handcuffs.
I rubbed my wrists absently and eyed the wide garage door. The garage was built into the estate, adding significant height to the rest of the house. Good for lookout posts.
Laughter rang out above the din of the music. Vincente did like to host parties.
I spotted Joel coming out of the other car, and we were told to follow a man up the staircase that was also built into the house. Everything was concrete; everything was pristine white. Potted plants and flowers all over. Spotlights embedded in the concrete.