Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Bridget motioned her hand towards the pantry. “There’s some juice in the...”
“I don’t want fucking juice,” Prez growled.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
She lowered her head and scurried out of the room like a wounded kid. Prez’s shoulders dropped, and he shook his head. “Dammit.”
“Ah, don’t sweat it,” I told him. “She’ll be fine.”
“It’s barely ten, and it’s already been a hell of a morning.” He stepped over to the counter and poured himself a tall cup of coffee before saying, “Got a call from Viper last night.”
“Oh, yeah?” Shep asked, sounding intrigued. “What’s up with him?”
“He told me about a new product they want us to try out.” When Prez saw his son’s expression, he quickly added, “It’s shrooms, and before you say anything, it’s supposed to be some really good shit. Apparently, their girl has been doing some research and playing around with whatever she does. It’s supposed to be an all-new kind of high.”
“But shrooms are some tricky stuff.”
“I know, but she’s worked out some of the negative stuff.” Prez took a sip of his coffee. “We won’t know how good it really is until we try it for ourselves, but this shit sounds like the real deal.”
“But we’re doing good with what we got. Why would we fuck with shrooms?” Memphis asked, sounding annoyed.
Before Prez could answer, the side door flew open, and Antonia came barreling in and there was clearly something wrong. Her face was streaked with tears, and her hands were trembling as she clutched the front of her shirt. Her eyes darted around the room until they landed on Memphis. Her voice cracked as she called out, “Weston!”
Everything in the room froze.
We all watched in silence as she rushed across the room. Memphis shot to his feet, and concern marked his face as he caught her in his arms. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just tell me what’s going on.”
She didn’t respond.
She just buried her face in his chest and sobbed. He gave her a moment, then gave her a push. "Antonia, talk to me. What the hell’s going on?"
“It’s Dad.” She was still crying as she muttered, “He’s giving himself up.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“He didn’t want us to be in danger anymore.” Antonia glanced up at Memphis as she added, “So, he’s giving himself up to the cartel.”
The weight of her words hit the room like a sledgehammer. Goose and Preacher exchanged a sharp look, and I felt my gut tighten. Memphis clenched his jaw as he asked, "What do you mean, giving himself up?"
"He said he couldn’t stand by and let them hurt us without trying to do something.” Her tears continued to fall as she told him, “He thinks if he turns himself over, they’ll leave us alone, and we won’t have to worry anymore.”
“Damn.”
“What’s going to happen?” she cried. “Do you think they’ll hurt him?”
I could feel the fear and desperation in her voice. She was hoping Memphis would give her some kind of reassurance that her father would get through this, but he couldn’t give her that. He knew the cartel wasn’t known for leaving loose ends, and her father was one hell of a loose end.
So, he did the only thing he could. He held her close and whispered, “It’s going to be okay, baby.”
“Do you mean that?”
Preacher stepped forward, and his voice was calm but firm as he asked, "Antonia, did he give you any idea of where he might’ve gone?"
“No.” She shook her head frantically. "He just said he had to do this, and he’d reach out when he could. I told him not to go, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Damn.” Goose cursed under his breath. "This shit ain’t good.”
Memphis shot him a look, but we all knew he was right. Her father had just made a suicide move. There was no way the cartel was gonna let him walk away from this. And even if they did, there would be hell to pay.
As usual, Prez remained calm and collected. He showed no real emotion as he told Grim, “Gather the others and meet me in the conference room.”
He nodded, and half an hour later, we were sitting at the conference table, hashing out all the possible resolutions to the situation with Carmine. It was fucked up. There was no doubt about that, but in the end, there was little we could do. Carmine had cut off communication with his handler, and his phone was no longer working.
We had no way to reach him, and without any further information, there was only one thing we could do—wait. It wasn’t something any of us were very good at, but we didn’t have a choice. Prez sounded frustrated as he said, “We will continue to monitor the situation, and if we hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”