If I would have known earlier things might have turned out differently.
Maybe.
I'd received a call from a low level street soldier moments after leaving the park, the information I'd received damning on several levels. Even after my series of warnings to the street crews, at least some restlessness had already spread throughout the ranks, allowing for the possibility of several unscrupulous activities and deals made. If that continued, the vultures would try to swoop in, certain individuals prepared to make a play for control. I couldn't afford to allow this shit to continue. Not now. Not ever.
Especially now given my father had given me his full control over the operation.
My father was the kind of man who never allowed anyone to see his weaknesses. His decline in health would be no different. There would be no huge announcements, no party celebrating my father's retirement, but people would learn soon enough. That would place the organization further on the precipice.
How I was going to use the info on Santiago was yet to be seen.
Sadly, there was one man who I suspected had a jump start on the change in power, a man my father trusted implicitly. The heat was increasing it seemed with every hour, the news of the lost revenue snaking through the cities and counties like flesh-eating bacteria. It was also becoming difficult to keep the DEA from sniffing around the explosions. They'd stop at nothing to shut down every one of my operations.
Of all the legitimate businesses that my family operated, only a few trusted men also distributed party favors to our customers. I'd been as careful as my father in making decisions, including the use of venues in order to keep away from prying eyes. One of the latest purchases had been a body shop for high-end sports cars, the very one who'd serviced my vehicles for years. The setting was perfect, the empty second floor exactly what was needed.
I employed over one thousand people in various legitimate jobs, something I'd always wanted to do. I nurtured the employees, made certain they had adequate health insurance and vacation days in which to heal the soul. Only a few had any direct knowledge of my family's handling of illegal drugs. Being in the inner sanctum took years of proving loyalty but the perks were substantial in the way of bonuses and other incentives. Danton hadn't been on the inside.
The man I'd just received a call about had been with my family for two decades, long before I'd taken over. I was finding it difficult to believe he'd stoop so low, but Aleksei had warned me. Of all the men to stab me in the back.
If what my soldier had learned while collecting the weekly fees held any merit, the man's loyalty had switched to Santiago.
I sighed as Cordero pulled into a parking space, taking my time to plant my feet onto the pavement. When I walked into the shop, the majority of employees were barely able to look me in the eyes. I could almost smell their fear, could hear their beating hearts. They knew who I was, had heard various stories of what had been done to enemies, but they at least respected the fact they had a job and had through difficult times and a shit economy. However, when I arrived, there was usually some kind of hell to pay.
This afternoon was no different.
They all remained going about their jobs, pretending that I hadn't just walked through the door. I could only imagine their sighs of relief when I walked up the back set of stairs to the second floor. I would also take a bet that there would be a spike in activity and projects completed by the end of the day.
The oversized production room held two distinct spaces, one used entirely for distribution. The other held our business managers and several quality assurance managers. They all had legitimate titles, filed their taxes, and lived the American dream. The man I'd come to question was the boss of this particular operation, his brutality equaling my own. He'd earned the right to share in the wealth.
At least up to this point.
John Martinez was a formidable man, someone I'd respected early on, but today he'd learn about my wrath for traitors.
I moved toward the man's expansive office, the only one with a window, although the view left a shit load to desire. Still, he'd made the space his own, including his beloved classical music. As soon as I walked in, the concerto playing forced bile into my throat. I could recognize Valencia's touch anywhere. Her music. Her CD. I was sickened at the thought but there was no such thing as a coincidence.
I unbuttoned my jacket, making certain my weapon was easily seen. I was taking no chances.
John seemed exasperated when I walked in, immediately jerking up from his desk. Was his bottom lip quivering? I scanned the area, searching for any signs of a breach in protocol, although I knew the man would hide his tracks. Almost immediately his mask was slapped into place, a consummate professional and one of the few men in our organization who'd spent time in prison.
And he'd never squealed.
That gave him credibility amongst the ranks as well as with my father. However, everyone had a price.
"John. You look startled." I moved closer, darting a glance toward his desk. As usual, he was working on the books, his uncanny ability to hide certain resources making him invaluable.
"You scared the fuck out of me, Miguel. No one comes into my office." John walked around the desk, his grin the one I'd remembered since I was a kid. When he shifted some of his papers together, I made certain to take note.
My godfather.
My father's best man at his wedding.
He'd been at every christening, every holiday event. He was above reproach.
He was a lying sack of shit.
We both approached with our arms out, giving the obligatory hug, only I felt dead inside.
"What brings you here?" he asked then pointed toward his bar. "Do you want a drink?"
I waved my hand, trying to plaster a grin on my face. "Not right now. I have a lot of business to take care of."
"You don't mind if I have one?"
"Not at all." I waited until he'd poured his favorite scotch, studying his steady hands. He showed no real sign of weakness. However, he'd had decades to practice. When he finally turned around to face me, I'd advanced another three feet, and I was clearly able to read his eyes.
Raw fear.
"Is something wrong, Miguel? I know the destruction of the shipments has hurt all of us, but we'll recover."
"The shipment situation is a pain in the ass, but I assure you, I will handle the asshole responsible."
He took a sip, nodding several times as if he didn't have a care in the world. "I'm glad to hear that. How's Carlos? I haven't talked to him in a couple of days."
"He's not well, John, but you already knew that. In fact, you know almost everything about my father, including his frailties and the fact he's retiring early."
John's face sagged, as if he'd been caught in a lie or perhaps was free of guilt. "Damn it, Miguel. I wasn't certain you knew. You know how proud your father is."
"Yes, my father is extremely proud. He is also far too trusting, at least in my opinion, opening himself up to betrayal. Including from a man he loved liked a brother."