12

Villalobos family
compound, Mexico

Salazar clutched a metal briefcase in the subterranean anteroom, eyes adjusting to the gloom. The rough-hewn stone of the cylindrical wall surrounding him could have been in a medieval fortress.

Hector Villalobos spoke in his customary refined Spanish. “I had this dungeon built to my specifications after much research.” He reached out to trace a finger along a paper-thin crevice between two stones. “Only the best workmanship.”

Salazar had seen all sorts of punishments meted out in the dark chambers that held El Lobo’s prisoners. Most who entered left in a bag. Those who survived were never the same, physically or mentally. He would dearly love to see Daria dragged into one of the cells.

He broached the subject of Daria’s betrayal with surgical precision, as he did everything. “The federales in Mexico City are working with US law enforcement now. They will run the DNA from the water bottle through our system.” He paused for emphasis, treading carefully. “When they get a match, they will know. Everyone will know.”

Hector lowered his hand. “Secrets from the past eventually find their way to the surface no matter how far down they are buried. Maybe it’s time the world knew about yours.”

He chose his next words for maximum impact. “You would have revealed my secret at a time of your choosing. If ever. Instead, Daria decided for you.”

Hector’s expression darkened. “I am not pleased with her behavior.”

Direct hit. The reaction cued him to double down. “She planted that bottle. Set me up.”

He waited to see if he’d gone too far.

Finally, Hector’s jet-black eyes locked with his. “Yes.”

Without further comment, Hector strode to the heavy wooden door and seized the wrought iron bolt. He threw it back with a grunt and tugged the handle. The door creaked open. Hector stepped over the threshold, stopped short, and spun around.

Close on his heels, Salazar nearly collided with him, barely managing to jerk the briefcase out of the way before it hit Hector’s thigh.

“You will fly to Phoenix and relieve Daria of her command,” Hector said. “I will still permit her to kill Veranda Cruz as I promised her earlier, but only on your orders and according to your plan.”

He had to change Hector’s mind. “I want the kill order transferred to me as well as Daria’s part of the operation.”

Hector gave him an appraising look. “You are aware of what that means?”

Three months ago, Hector told Adolfo he could not become heir apparent to the family empire until he eliminated Veranda Cruz. By his own hand. When Adolfo failed, the order passed to Daria to prove she could take the reins. Killing Cruz had become inextricably linked with assuming control of the cartel.

And Salazar intended to do both.

“I know what it means.” He spoke the words that had been in his heart for years. “You know that I am the one to lead our organization.”

He’d said it. Now he waited an interminable minute while El Lobo regarded him with fathomless lupine eyes. Had he moved too quickly? Did naked ambition demonstrate his determination, or expose him as an opportunist?

Salazar couldn’t read the emotion behind Hector’s austere features as his boss studied him with a fierce intensity. In that moment, Hector reminded him of the generales he had served during his time in the Army. Without conscious thought, he reverted to his military training. His entire body stiffened until he stood at attention, ready for inspection.

With slow, deliberate movements, Hector circled behind him. “As of this moment, the kill order is transferred to you,” he said into Salazar’s ear.

He remained rooted to the spot as Hector continued around to face him once again. The next words out of El Lobo’s mouth meant victory or defeat. He kept his face completely blank as he waited for the decision.

Hector raised both arms and pulled Salazar against him in an abrazo. “And so is the prize that comes with it,” he said, breaking the embrace after kissing him on both cheeks.

Salazar suppressed any outward display of excitement. “I will leave at once.”

“Stay here until after our Día de los Muertos celebration tomorrow night. You will participate with us this year. You can notify Daria about the change in plans tomorrow.”

“As you wish.”

“Also, I will tell you who the Rook is.”

Salazar was surprised. For years, Hector had unsuccessfully tried to recruit someone he referred to only as “the Rook.” He would only divulge that the man was in law enforcement and could provide unprecedented access.

“Do you have him, then?”

“Not yet,” Hector said. “But I want to put more effort in because of Daria. Her actions will make it harder for you to do your job on both sides of the border.”

“That never stopped me before. I know how to travel undetected.”

“A good chess player always thinks several moves ahead. I am creating a backup plan, and the Rook is a critical piece on my board.” Hector pivoted to continue down the passage.

Salazar switched the briefcase to his other hand and fell into step beside him. “Isn’t the hacking program providing intelligence?”

“The reinforced security on the police servers has slowed progress. The computer tech firm I am purchasing will speed things up.”

The passage opened to two rows of prison cells separated by a cement floor the width of a city sidewalk. All cells stood empty except the one in front of them.

“Good afternoon, Pedro.”

Hector’s greeting was met with a whimper from the far corner of the cage.

“Come forward so I can see you.”

Pedro stumbled toward them, clutching the iron bars as if he feared he would fall. “P-please, Señor Villalobos, I—”

Hector held up a hand. “I come bearing a gift.” He smiled. “You will be an honored guest at our Día de los Muertos celebration tomorrow night. You must wear this.”

At Hector’s signal, Salazar bent to lay the steel briefcase on the ground and popped open the latches. He lifted the top and reached inside. Taking care to avoid touching any wires, he picked up the locking metal neck shackle and straightened.

“Show Pedro what he will wear to the party, Salazar.”

He extended his arms toward Pedro, who squinted in confusion. “W-what is that?”

“It is a special kind of collar,” Hector said, baring his teeth in a feral smile. “The last one you will ever put on.”

Pedro sank to his knees and sobbed.