by Tijan
A surge of anger burst through me.
I didn’t have a dog, but we used to beg our parents for one.
The dog started barking at me, then he started barking at something behind me. The guy was coming for me, limping now, and holding his arm where he was bleeding. The house owner must’ve done something to slow him down.
I started around the dog. Shit. I eyed the house. Were these good pet owners?
I couldn’t tell. My heartbeat was pounding so loud in my ears. I was sweating and panting, and I wasn’t thinking straight.
I had to make a decision.
I ran over and reached for the dog’s collar. He started to turn and bark at me, but I unclipped him from the chain.
He tore off, going right for the guy.
“Hey!” The guy stopped with a bloodcurdling scream.
“Oh my God! Mom!”
The screen door slammed again.
“Hey! That’s our dog. Don’t— Mom, he has a gun!”
I stopped.
Everything stopped.
That guy had a gun. Of course he had a gun. That would only make sense, and in that moment I knew he was going to shoot the dog.
The child. There was a child behind me.
I could hear growling and scuffling in the gravel behind me. They were rolling on the ground.
My heart beat firmly in my chest.
I knew.
I needed to make another decision, so I turned around.
The guy was trying to kick the dog off. A little boy stood frozen outside his house, his hand on the door, but no parent was coming after him. I saw no one.
No one was going to help.
This was my fault.
I let the dog go, knowing the guy was behind me, hoping he’d fight for me—and he had. But of course that guy would have a gun.
God.
I couldn’t let… The homeowner had made his own decision. But this dog—I had a special place in my heart for dogs, especially a hungry-looking dog, one that was chained outside.
There was a child.
I knew what I needed to do.
A child. A dog.
No.
My mind shut off, and I threw myself at him. I was in the air, arms and legs poised for an attack. The guy didn’t see me until the last second, and he never saw the shears coming.
He had the gun pointed, and the dog had backed up, maybe sensing he was about to be dust. I looked up for a split second and the kid was looking right at me. I tried to tell him to look away, but it happened so fast. Then out of nowhere, a woman swept him up, and just as she wheeled him around, my shears rammed into the guy’s throat.
I landed in a crouch and knocked the gun—my gun, actually—out of his hand with my elbow as I reached for the shear’s handle. Bracing myself, I pulled them clear through his throat. An unearthly sound roared through me from this motion, but then it was done and I couldn’t move.
His blood was going everywhere.
But I couldn’t move.
What had I done?
But then the dog was there, sinking his teeth into my arm. He was struggling, trying to do something.
I didn’t feel his bite.
The lady was screaming from the house. I looked, and she had a phone to her ear.
Police.
It registered that she was calling the police.
I looked at the guy in front of me. He was dead, hunched over, and the dog was still trying to chew off my arm.
Move!
The command came hard and fast in my mind, and I jumped up.
Wait.
Fuck.
I used the edges of my shirt to wipe off the shears, as best I could. I wasn’t going to run with those, but my gun.
Where was my gun?
There it was.
I jumped up to my feet, shoved the dog off, and ran, bending to scoop up my gun.
“Hey!” The lady was outside now, her phone by her side. She held the door open.
I stopped and pivoted back to her. “You tell them a different girl and I won’t come back for you.”
The blood drained from her face.
She was realizing I was at her house.
I knew where she lived. I knew she had a kid, too.
I didn’t have time to wait for her decision.
Hearing a vehicle screech to a halt from the road, I started to run, but I yelled back, “Get inside! Lock the door. Hide!”
Then I turned and ran.
And I ran.
And I ran.
I ran until I didn’t know where I was going, but I still kept going.
My arm was bleeding, and I stopped and ripped off my shirt. I wrapped it around my arm and looked behind me. I’d left a trail of blood. The droplets might be few and far between, but they were there. They could track me.
I hadn’t been thinking.
My head was woozy.
I started to see stars.
I was spinning.
I was falling.
I was out.
I could still hear that dog barking, though.
20
Ash
I opened an eye, but only one because damn, the world already hurt so much for this early in the morning.
Wait.
No.
That didn’t seem right.
I closed my eye again, and it registered that I was on a bed.
My arm hurt. I hurt all over.
What had happened?
“Boss.”
I didn’t know that voice.
“She’s awake,” he added.
I opened both eyes and wished I hadn’t.
A light shone down on me, and I hissed, knowing it was supposed to be there and it was supposed to disorient me.
“Move that away.”
“What? Oh. Sorry.” The light moved away.
I could see a guy sitting next to me, inspecting my bandaged arm.
I lifted my head, looking over his shoulder to see who “boss” was, and a man stepped forward. He was dressed in an expensive business suit, and he had a handsome face. Classic features. High cheekbones. Full lips. He looked Latino—with dark hair, dark eyes. Tall. Almost skinny.
His lips curled up in a slight grin, as if I was amusing to him. He straightened to his fullest height. “You killed one of my men because he was going to shoot a dog. That’s the most striking part for me. You didn’t care about the old man he shot, but the dog.” He shook his head, throwing a look at someone farther into the room, back where I couldn’t see. “Abram tells me you’re important to Raize.”
Abram, as in Abram Basil, as in he needed to go talk to his boss, the head honcho for the Estrada Cartel before telling us about a meeting.
I was beyond screwed here.
“What’s your name?” The guy had softened his tone, and he sat down, bending over to rest his elbows on his knees.
He was trying to make himself more appealing to me, coming down to my level. He was talking to me like I was someone who needed a soft voice.
Fuck him.
“Carrie.” Abram spoke for me.
Estrada nodded to himself before narrowing his eyes. “Carrie what? What’s your last name?”
I didn’t answer.
Abram spoke. “I doubt anyone knows it.”
Another nod from Estrada, and he motioned to me with an opened hand. “Do me a favor, Carrie. I doubt you’ll give me a real last name, and I doubt Carrie is your real first name, so pick a name. Any name. I like to indulge myself and think I know someone when I talk to them.”
He wanted a name? Fine. “Marakov.”
The guy working on my bandage froze, and I waited.
There was a glimmer of a grin from Estrada before he sat up again. “Okay. We’ll go with Carrie Marakov. Miss Marakov, if you were in my shoes, what would you do with me?”
The truth? “I’d let me go.”
I would. That was the bleeding heart in me, the kind that would take shears to a guy about to shoot a dog. T
he dog that tried to tear my arm off seconds later.
He studied me and something must’ve clicked because he let out another sigh, glancing to the back of the room again. “Make the call. I have a feeling Raize will be motivated to get this one back.”
“Boss. Marco.”
Marco.
I tasted bile.
I didn’t like that name.
Marco Estrada ignored whatever that was about, standing. “There’s a reason Raize reached out for a meeting. I know him. He wouldn’t have done it unless he had something he thinks I will want. Enough time has passed. I’m interested in seeing how he handles me having something he’ll want. I have no heart to torture this girl. Not today.”
He left and Abram appeared in his place, standing so I could see him. He had a phone in his hand, and he gave me a searing look. “You just got incredibly lucky. You know that, right?”
I did.
Man, did I know.
I grunted, wincing. “I liked the yellow suit.” He was wearing a dark blue suit this time.
He snorted, but didn’t answer.
I laid back down, needing to trust that Raize would come through somehow to get me back. I didn’t know how he’d do it.
The guy finished my arm. “I treated you for any infection and gave you a shot, just in case of rabies. You should be good. You’re stitched up, but keep them covered for another day or two. After that, let the air heal you. The stitches will dissolve themselves.”
I raised my eyebrows. Dissolvable stitches. How fancy.
Then Abram spoke into the phone. “Raize, we have something of yours.”
21
Ash
The meet was in the middle of a dirt road, somewhere far out of the city. They’d kept me blindfolded in the van, and only when we’d parked, did they open the door and yank me out. When I could see again, Estrada was standing in the front. Abram was with him. A guy I didn’t recognize was holding me by the arm, and there were six others positioned around the van. Estrada had literally surrounded himself with men, and looking around, I could see why they picked this site.
It was flat desert around us. The hills were far away. Not many trees.
We could see Raize coming long before he pulled up. He brought two vehicles—his truck and the car. When he got out, Jake and Cavers came with him. Cavers had a large bag.
Raize stopped thirty yards away from Estrada, but Cavers came forward and dropped the bag at Estrada’s feet. Then he bent over and unzipped it, spreading the sides so Estrada could see what was in there.
After he’d had a look, Cavers picked the bag up and returned to stand beside Raize.
Jake moved out until he had a clear line on me—or on the guy holding my arm.
“Raize.” Estrada put his hands in his suit pockets, the epitome of calm and confident. “It’s been a long time.”
Raize’s eyes went to mine, held, and then he blinked, the same cold, dead look on his face.
He focused on Estrada. “Give her to me.”
“Who is she to you?”
“None of your business.”
“That makes me want to know even more.” He glanced around. “I’m surprised at you. You brought only two men? That doesn’t seem like the Raize I knew.” He gestured around. “I’ve learned from you. Picked this place on purpose—didn’t want you to have a sniper anywhere within range.” He sounded smug.
Raize smirked. “Right.”
Abram jerked where he stood, and the guy holding my arm tightened his grip, just a reflex before loosening. These guys were on edge.
“I want my employee.”
“For what? What’s she worth to you?”
Raize’s eyes narrowed. “My man showed you the bag of money. A trade.”
“I don’t need money. Give me something I need.” Estrada’s hand returned to his pocket. He turned, standing so he could see me as well as Raize. He looked between us. “I know you know I didn’t send Macca. Oscar shouldn’t have moved on my behalf, but then again, you made sure to create a job opening for yourself, didn’t you? Oscar’s family will be displeased with you, displeased with your boss.”
Raize’s tone was even, almost monotone. “I’ll pass along that message.”
“You wanted a meet. Let’s have the meet now, and if I decide to take you up on your offer,” Estrada looked my way, analyzing me, “you can have your woman back. She killed one of my men. Did you know that?”
Raize didn’t react, but Cavers’ head moved back a centimeter and Jake’s hands flexed, forming fists.
“Interesting,” Estrada remarked. “You’ve never given much away, but now you’re worse.”
“You still want me dead?”
“Of course.” Estrada flashed a smile, and that seemed the most genuine thing he’d said. “But you know me. Business is business. You took out one of my men, and you knew Oscar ran his own women. That wasn’t part of my business. I’m assuming you’ve been sent to offer your employer to take Oscar’s place? He was my distributor into the US. That’s the whole reason for your trip south. Am I correct?”
“You are. My boss would like to offer distribution starting here and extending toward the northeast in the US.”
“But we already have distributors there. Why would we need more?”
Cavers frowned. Jake’s eyes narrowed again.
“As of this morning, you don’t,” Raize said.
Estrada’s face jerked back toward Raize, and his entire body stiffened. “What?”
“You employed the 63rds. You don’t anymore.”
Estrada’s mouth thinned. “Do I want to ask what happened to them?”
“They’re dead.”
A dark cloud formed over Estrada. He lowered his head. “I don’t do business like this. I won’t be forced into an alliance. You know this, better than anyone.”
Raize moved for the first time. He turned to Cavers and Jake. “Go back to the car. Drive away.”
“Boss—” Jake started to protest.
Not Cavers. He dropped the bag and started for the car immediately.
“Go.” Raize’s tone was calm.
Jake swung his eyes my way, alarmed, but he did as he was told.
Estrada watched as both men got in the car and waited until the car had turned around. “Even more interesting. What are you setting up here, Raize?”
“I’m here on behalf of Roman Marakov.”
I tensed, that name shredding my nerves.
The Marakov family ran the Russian mafia in Philadelphia, but over the last year they’d been expanding. I’d been a peon on the streets for them before I was sold to Bronski, and I knew the entire family worked together. Roman was the youngest of the brothers. There were three in total. Maxim was the oldest. Igor was the second. Roman was the only one my sister said she’d met, before she was taken.
“He’s nice,” she’d told me.
I’d snorted. “He’s mafia. This is dangerous. What are you doing?”
“Leo trusts them. He works for them. He says he’s going to go places.”
“Leo works for Igor, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, but he wants to work for Roman. He says Roman is going to go places, and he’s the one not to underestimate. And by the way, you’re not supposed to know any of this. Don’t say a word or they could kill us both.”
A week later, she was gone.
Carloni worked for Igor.
Brooke’s boyfriend worked for Igor.
I had no clue how she met Roman.
I knew Raize worked for one of the brothers. I’d assumed it was Igor since he was the one running Philadelphia, but hearing this now… What did it mean? Did it mean something?
“I’m assuming you still want me dead,” Raize noted. “That’s fine, but before you take your shot, Roman is aware that you’ve been trying to get into Russia with your product. He is offering this to you. Work with him here in Texas. He’ll help distribute your product on the eastern side of the US, and you can expand into R
ussia.”
“Russian mafia doesn’t like the cartel.”
“This Russian mafia does.”
“Why, Raize? I’m aware of Roman Marakov’s reputation, and he doesn’t strike me as someone who needs me. What is he getting from this partnership?”
“He wants the 63rds out of business permanently. They’re too reckless and dangerous for the United States. They kill too many innocents, and it’s bad for business. They can’t expand if the 63rds continue to work in the US.”
“All of this was sent to get rid of the 63rds?”
“This was done so that further war wasn’t waged when the 63rds were taken out, and so he’s got a powerful partnership for expanding into Mexico. You work with the Colombians and you have a strong tie in Bolivia. That’s an alliance that helps him.”
“What’s the drawback?”
“You work with him, and him alone. Not his brothers.”
Roman Marakov was planning a takeover.
I got it then. All of it.
Well, almost all of it.
Wait. I had no idea, but that’s the only thing that made sense.
And that filled me with so much excitement, I wanted to do a TikTok dance. I didn’t know any. I didn’t have TikTok, but I wanted to log onto a computer somewhere and learn one.
That meant Igor Marakov would die.
Igor was on my list. He was the boss over Carloni, who was over Bronski, and I hated them all.
“Raize.”
“What?”
Estrada turned, holding out his hand to Abram.
Abram hesitated, giving Raize a look before he pulled a gun out and handed it to Estrada.
Raize watched the gun, his eyes darkening, but he didn’t move.
“I allowed you to leave as a gift to my sister, but I said if I ever saw you again, I’d kill you. I’m seeing you again, Raize. You know what that means.” He raised the gun, pointing it at him. “Have you considered that your boss knew I wanted you dead? He sent you to broker this relationship. Have you considered the thought that you’re the gift from your boss to me?”
Raize drew in a breath, but had no other reaction.
No fear.
No anger.