I stumble forward as Ryder rushes to catch me. I collapse in his arms as he draws my body into his, he lifts me against his chest then moves me so he is shielding me from Miguel, who’s lying on the ground bleeding out.
Ryder’s hands and eyes quickly take assessment of my physical state. “Are you hurt? Are you bleeding? Have you been shot or stabbed?” His words flow so violently I don’t have a chance to answer. “You’re not wet.”
That’s an odd observation.
“I think I’m okay . . .”
“Briggs, we need an ambulance!” Ryder urges. I remember he’s wearing the ear device.
“How?” Miguel interrupts, contorting in anger and agony.
Ryder keeps his gun aimed at him. “The first report was that Drew Jameson stole half a million dollars street value of cocaine. It made sense you went after him—you had to show Cruz loyalty and the ability to deal with your issues. It also made sense why, when the feds picked you up, you were willing to lay Cruz’s head on the chopping block—hell, you certainly didn’t want to share in Jameson’s fate, did you? And we both know Cruz would have no problem mincing you into dog food over a mere half a mil.
“But then I discovered Mason Enterprises—and your alias ownership of the up and coming premier shipping corporation. Didn’t add up why you’d even sweat the loss of chump change like that. With all the money you’re raking in, you could’ve paid Cruz back. But you didn’t want that. You were setting yourself up to take over his territory.”
“So your story to the feds was a bunch of bullshit designed to throw them off your scent. And Cruz didn’t bust you out of that transport, because you had the power to do it yourself. You’d been patient; erected legitimate businesses to hide your illegitimate ventures, but even more important than operating under the radar of law enforcement, your real survival was making sure Cruz believed you were honest and loyal until you were ready to make your move. You also had to fool your own hired men to make sure none reported your activities back to Cruz. Can’t trust anyone these days—too many dishonest people.”
Miguel groans and curses.
“Then just when you were ready to pull the trigger, Cruz broke the news that he had a new assignment for his trusted lieutenant—the transportation and distribution of 12,000 pounds of cocaine. And that’s when you flipped your shit. Six tons of cocaine has a street value of roughly two hundred million dollars—that’s a lot of fucking zeros. Hell, funds like that would bring a windfall to Cruz and crush you and any dream you had of overthrowing the monarchy.
“You had to get rid of it, and fast, but you had to make it look like one of your connections had done the double cross, and who better to be the patsy than Drew Jameson?”
I watch as Agent Jones—one of the FBI guys who was protecting me and Ryder’s friend —comes out of the shadows and closer to where we’re standing.
Ryder continues. “Even when Farrington came around the corner—you could’ve gotten rid of a witness easy enough. You’d already built up corrupt connections you could manipulate within political offices and law enforcement, so when you took her, you figured you’d sell her to the highest bidder and give the money to Cruz. It wouldn’t come close to evening out the deficit, but it would be a show of good faith and buy you time to seize your chance and murder him.
“And, always thinking like the resilient businessman you are, you realized that giving the girl to your Mexican buyer was proof and testimony of your power to not only get rid of witnesses, but to also supply his buyers with beautiful, American women—buyers in places like India, Africa, Egypt and Russia, and I’m sure, some in the States as well. A calling card to telegraph how much easier it would be to transport them using your legitimate shipping companies.”
I flinch at the mention of being sold and the truth that there are still evil people in the world who buy and sell girls and women. It’s not easy to forget how close I came to that horrifying, unimaginable fate.
“You thought you had the deal sealed, but then Farrington confessed that she knew where Jameson hid the drugs. Bet she spilled that info to a couple cartel boys you didn’t want thinking that you could’ve retrieved what you said had been stolen. So you threatened to kill her unless she told you—but you knew she had nothing to tell. Then when she got away, you had to make a grand gesture to display your power and influence and wrap it all up nice and neat.”
Miguel knew all along that I was bluffing about knowing where the drugs were. Oh God, it all makes so much sense now.
Ryder takes a breath. “Pretty good racket—murder, corruption, drugs and human trafficking—you’re the real deal, Eduardo Miguel. Public Enemy #1.”
Miguel writhes in pain as he rages back at Ryder. “You think you are walking away with your lives, but my influence is everywhere. She’ll never be safe, never! I will cut her to pieces while I force you to watch helplessly. I’ll spare you no mercy.”