Chapter 105 Smoke and Mirrors
Matteo
By the time we got in the car, Rosco was shifting in his seat like he’d been stabbed in the ass.
“Damn,” he hissed, clutching his groin. “Did you have to hit me so hard in the nuts?”
I didn’t even look at him. “You’re lucky that’s all you got.”
He scoffed but winced again as he adjusted.
“I briefly considered breaking your fucking nose,” I added, calm as ever. “But I didn’t feel like dealing with you needing medical attention while we are supposed to go check on Big John. And you’re lucky she loves me.”
That made him turn, barely grinning.
“Because that little stunt?” I continued. “If I had even one doubt in my mind about her loyalty to me, Rosco—you’d be fucking dead. Don’t test me like that again.”
He didn’t respond. Just nodded and stared out the window like he was counting the lights.
We pulled up to Big John’s building twenty minutes later. Top-end high rise. Minimal traffic. Fire already out. The stench of burnt wiring and scorched drywall lingered in the air, and steam still hissed from a charred balcony on the third floor.
The cops were just pulling away. That meant they didn’t find a body—or worse, did find something and didn’t want to talk about it in front of suits like us.
I parked illegally right at the front entrance. Badge in my pocket if anyone questioned it. The doorman saw me and immediately stepped back, holding the door open with one shaking hand.
We took the elevator up in silence.
Big John met us in the hallway, shirtless, ash-smudged, and pissed off.
“Jesus Christ,” Rosco muttered. “You look like a chimney sweep.”
“Fuck off,” John snapped. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”
I crossed my arms. “You want to tell me why I got a phone call that your apartment was on fire?”
“Wish I fucking knew,” he said, wiping soot off his forehead with the back of his arm. “I was down the block grabbing Chinese, came back and saw the damn trucks out front. My neighbor said she heard a boom. Sprinklers went off, but the kitchen’s trashed. We don’t even have beef with anyone right now.”
“Anyone inside?” I asked, scanning him for lies.
“No. No one’s staying with me right now.”
“You sure?” I pressed. “No new girlfriends? No side pieces?”
He hesitated. That half-beat pause told me everything I needed to know.
“John…” I warned.
He exhaled hard. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me exactly what it is. Because right now it looks like someone took a shot at my upper-tier lieutenant, and if this is a personal mess bleeding into my organization—I need to know.”
Rosco stepped beside me. “Maybe it’s not about you, Matty. Maybe it’s about him.”
John scrubbed a hand down his face.
“I think… I think someone was sending me a message,” he muttered. “But I don’t know who.”
“That’s not good enough,” I snapped. “You better start remembering, because if you brought a target into my territory—into my organization—I’m not cleaning up your mess.”
His eyes flicked to mine, something desperate behind them. Regret. Shame. Love?
Rosco was already scanning the scorched walls.
“Looks like a homemade job. Not meant to blow the place—just scorch it. Drive a message home.”
I turned back to John.
“Who’d you piss off, John? And don’t lie.”
He swallowed.
And then—right on cue—the elevator dinged behind us.
Out stepped a woman. Curvy. Long dark hair. Eyes wide with panic. She looked like a storm hit her.
“John!” she cried. “Oh my god—baby, are you okay?”
Ah. And there it is, I thought.
John’s entire posture changed. “Carmen?”
She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him, uncaring of the soot or ash.
I raised a brow. “And who the fuck is this?”
He didn’t answer fast enough.
“I didn’t think he was serious!” Carmen burst out. “I thought he was bluffing!”
I stepped forward. “Didn’t think who was serious?”
She blinked at me, confused.
“Who, Carmen?” I asked again, voice sharp as razors.
“Eladio!” she choked. “He said he’d kill him if I didn’t stop. But I didn’t think—he was in Mexico for three months—I didn’t think he’d know!”
Rosco’s whole body went rigid.
“Eladio who?” he asked, but he already knew.
“Eladio Vargas,” she whispered.
Silence.
Cold. Hard. Heavy.
Rosco let out a whistle. “You mean Eladio Vargas, the León Cartel Eladio?”
She nodded slowly.
I turned on John. Fury burning under my skin.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
He didn’t flinch.
“You’re sticking your dick in Eladio Vargas’s woman?”
“She’s not his,” John growled. “She hasn’t been for months. She left him.”
“She’s still his, John!” I barked. “That man doesn’t give a shit about custody arrangements or breakups—he owns people. That’s how he thinks. And you brought that risk to my fucking doorstep.”
Carmen’s voice shook. “I just found out I’m pregnant. Eladio found the test. I think… I think that’s why he lit the apartment. He didn’t want us dead. Just scared. Warned.”
“Oh, he warned,” I snarled. “He warned loud and clear.”
I turned to John.
“You’ve got 48 hours.”
“To do what?”
“To disappear. You and her. Somewhere I don’t know. Because if he comes for you—I don’t want your blood on my hands. And if he comes for me or anyone else I care about? I will track you down myself. Loyalty doesn’t protect you from stupidity, John. And you’ve just crossed into stupid.”
I stared at Carmen for a long moment, recalibrating.
Fear has a smell. Sharp. Metallic. She reeked of it.
“Give me his number,” I said calmly.
All three of them froze.
Carmen blinked. “W–what?”
“Eladio Vargas,” I repeated, voice even. “Your husband. I want his phone number.”
John stiffened. “Matteo—”
I cut him off with a look sharp enough to draw blood. “Don’t.”
Rosco shifted beside me, already reading the room. He didn’t interrupt. He knew better.
Carmen’s hands went protectively to her stomach. “Why?”
“So I can handle this,” I said. “Right now. Before it turns into a fucking war.”
Her face drained of color. “You’re going to kill him.”
I tilted my head slightly. “I’m going to talk to him.”
“That’s worse,” she whispered.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice so it carried weight instead of volume. “Listen to me very carefully. Eladio Vargas does not respond to apologies. He responds to leverage, dominance, and fear. If I don’t assert control now, he will keep pushing until bodies start dropping. Yours. John’s. Mine.”
Carmen hesitated, eyes darting between us. “If you call him… he’ll know I told you.”
I didn’t sugarcoat it. “He already knows you slept with John. He already knows you’re pregnant. And he already sent a message by fire. At this point, loyalty points are imaginary.”
That did it.
Her shoulders sagged. She reached into her purse with shaking hands, pulled out her phone, and unlocked it. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a long second before she turned it toward me.
“Eladio Vargas,” she said softly. “That’s his private line. He doesn’t give it to anyone.”