“Rio, you gotta get it together and tell me what’s going on,” Orlando said.
He was right. My sister was out there risking her life. I had to man up and keep my head on. “Orlando, you gotta make them stop, or Paris and me are dead. She’s good, but she ain’t got but so much ammo. It’s not the Mexicans we’re up against.”
“You mean the same ones trying to kill you right now?”
“Yeah. Right. But wait,” I said, confusing even myself. “Listen. It wasn’t Alejandro that jacked the shipment. It was the Italians.”
“Italians. You mean Sal Dash and them? Are you serious?” Orlando asked, his attention heightened.
“Yes, that’s exactly who I mean.”
LC
49
I took a long, slow breath to steady my emotions before I dialed the phone. I’d really screwed up, letting my emotions over my brother Lou’s death get in the way of making a sound decision for my family and my business. By ordering my West Coast affiliates to take out Alejandro’s brothers, I’d as much as signed Rio’s death certificate. It was a move that would not go over well with any of my children or my wife. Right now I didn’t have time to worry about what they thought, though, because the task at hand was way more important. Its outcome could determine the survival or demise of us all.
“Alejandro, are you ready to talk?”
“You murder my brothers for no reason. Now you’re attacking and killing my men all over L.A., and you want to talk?” Alejandro bellowed, his voice coming through the speakerphone and filling my office with his venom. “I will talk once your son and that tramp bitch are chopped up and delivered to your doorstep! Now, I ask you this one last time. Let me speak to Miguel—if he is not already dead as well. Por favor.”
Tramp? Rio was gay, and the local talent I rented to take out the brothers were all men. Who was Alejandro referring to?
“What tramp?” I asked.
“The one my men said you sent to rescue your son. Do not deny it. She is at this very minute fighting to protect him, but believe me, neither she nor that little woman you call a son will leave L.A. alive.”
Orlando was standing near me, waving his hands wildly to get my attention. I hit the MUTE button on my phone and asked him, “What is it, dammit?”
He answered me breathlessly. “Paris is out there. With Rio.”
My chest tightened, and it took me a moment to catch my breath. Now two of my children were in danger. I could only assume that if Orlando knew about it, he was the one who sent Paris out there. He was giving orders without me. Once my kids were home safely, I would kick his ass for insubordination.
Thankfully, Alejandro did not seem to know that the tramp was actually my daughter. I wanted to keep it that way.
Still glaring at Orlando, I picked up the receiver and continued my call off the speakerphone. “Alejandro, I’m only calling to get you to stop,” I said.
“Then you don’t know me after all,” Alejandro said. “This stops when the streets flow with blood. Revenge for my brothers—and for your arrogance.”
“And what about your arrogance, Alejandro? You stole my shipment. You killed my only brother first, and now you tell me your men are going to kill my son.”
“We did not steal your shipment or kill your brother. But I will kill your son,” Alejandro answered with absolute determination.
Orlando’s phone rang. I continued to trade accusations and threats with Alejandro, until something Orlando said caught my attention. “What are you talking about, Rio?”
He was talking to Rio. My son was still alive. With my attention now divided between two phone calls, I was waiting to hear Paris’s name come out of Orlando’s mouth. I needed to know that she was still alive too. Instead, his face went pale, and he rushed over to me and whispered in my ear.
It was information that nearly knocked me out of my chair.
“Alejandro, wait.” I interrupted his tirade. “My other son has just given me some very disturbing news.”