Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I don’t keep my attention on him. My scrutiny would make it harder to cheat, and I don’t give a shit about the cards I’m dealt.
“Going to be broke after this. I’m going to have to stop playing with you guys.”
“That’s what you say every night,” Pirro says as he lifts his glass of tequila to his lips. “And yet every night, you show up with more money.”
“This is really it,” I say, wondering if I’m playing my other hand a little too soon. “You guys seem to have an endless supply of money. How about giving me a job so I can keep losing to you guys?”
The goal was to get in with these guys and figure out where they’re operating their business.
Angel has it on good authority that they’re somehow connected to Raul Cortez, one of the most prolific cartel leaders in Mexico and South America in decades. The criminal runs guns, drugs, and is rumored to be in the skin trade.
Angel, as well as Liam, another one of the guys who he hires out for work, were taken on separate occasions by one of these groups. They’re certain that Raul Cortez was in the middle of it.
“You’d have a better chance of earning good money in the States,” Pirro says.
“I’m a wanted man,” I tell him, not for the first time, as an excuse for being in Mexico to begin with. I want them to think I’m here permanently, that I’m not just here for a good time before returning home.
We place our bets, my hand just as shitty as the dozen before it.
I can understand these guys not being willing to take a chance on someone they think doesn’t even speak Spanish. If Angel’s suspicions are true, they’re abducting and selling men, women, and children to make the money they’re gambling with tonight.
It’s the injustice as well as the thrill that made me step forward, volunteering for the job that was deemed more dangerous than others Angel has arranged in the past.
It doesn’t seem any more dangerous. If I were winning and taking their money, I could quite possibly end up with a gun to my head, but right now, all I have is a minor buzz from the tequila and a bad attitude because I think they’re honestly trying to get caught cheating. I can’t tell if they want me to call them on it or keep ignoring it.
They haven’t once hinted that I may be given a chance with their organization, and I’ve been asking about it since the day we met two weeks ago. I tried to get them to brag, to tell me why everyone gave them such a wide berth when they walked into the bar. I knew there was something about them that no one was willing to speak about. They wielded some form of power because everyone seemed afraid of them. It told me I was on the right track, but I’ve gotten no closer since day one. Angel is growing irritated with the wire transfers because I’ve lost so much money to these assholes.
I’m thinking it would be easier if this were more like a normal job. If I had someone to rescue, some sick fucks to kill, then I’d have been done a long time ago. But according to Angel, these guys don’t really matter to Cortez in the grand scheme of things. I could kill them and get no closer to tracking Raul down, and the heat it would bring wouldn’t be worth it. It could mean the leader might go underground and we’d never find him. At the same time, I’ve been acting just like these guys, making crude comments to women, confessing crimes, and drinking more than my liver can honestly handle. I’m not any closer to Raul Cortez and his organization than I was the day I drove into Monterrey. I don’t even know if these assholes are part of the man’s team or if they just throw his name around because of the fear it puts in the local people’s eyes. They could be playing me as much as they’re playing everyone else, and unless they actually come out and say it, I’ll never know.
We go around the table, all men but Pirro and myself folding. I know what to expect before the raise, but I go through the motions, sliding the last of my money into the pile at the center of the table.
He drops my hand, this one showcasing a pair of jacks. The glint in his eyes, the one that speaks of victory, doesn’t falter, and I glare at him when he drops down the pair of aces. These guys aren’t even bothering to use the ace of hearts or the ace of diamonds. The spade and club mock me from in front of him, but what the hell can I do about it? I have no doubt all the people in this bar will come to his defense if I so much as allow my hand to twitch, no matter how fearful they are of him.