"Now," Guillermo Mendosa said, interrupting. He looked at my father, then at me. "Then your welcome to Porto Alegre is officially revoked."
Dad's lip lifted, and he had that look on his face, a look that everyone who knew him was terrified of. I held up my hand, speaking up before things got more out of hand. "Okay. But give me ten minutes to change clothes?"
I looked to Eduardo, who simply nodded. A serious man of few words.
I turned and walked away, Dad following me until we were next to our jet. With it being just the two of us, he was able to let his true feelings show through some, and he was pissed. “I’d love to slit that man's throat and feel his blood run over my fingers," Dad seethed, angry.
"He's pissed, prejudiced, and scared," I said lowly. “He’s probably even more mad with how Luisa looked at us—he knows she'd rather be with us than stay with him. That's got to hurt a man's pride."
He gave me a look and seemed to calm down a little, knowing that I had a point. He walked over to me and patted me on the shoulder, and his next words took me by surprise. “When the time comes, our family is in good hands."
I stood there, shocked for a moment before I resumed pulling my jacket off and handing it to the pilot. "First, I have to survive this. I doubt the ref is going to respect if I tap out."
"Agreed. Fight dirty if you have to," Dad said.
I sat down on the steps of the plane and looked back at the pilot. "This isn't going to take long, so get on the radio with the tower. You're going to want fuel, and quickly. How much do you guys have left?"
"Only a couple of hundred miles, Mr. Bertoli," the crew member said. "A thousand, if we're lucky.”
I nodded and undid the first strap on my brace. "Get what you can. I'd prefer to not have to set down for fuel in South America if we can help it."
The man nodded and headed for the cabin while I finished unstrapping my brace, setting it aside. I'd tested the ankle after talking with Luisa, and while there wasn’t much pain, it was stiff.
"Time to strap up," I muttered to myself, reaching into the bag that had contained my shorts. We managed to scrape together enough tape on the plane from the emergency and medical kits that I could do something with my leg. Slowly, I wound layer after layer of tape around my ankle, starting with, of all things, electrical tape before moving on to duct tape and finally some white bandage tape. "Should have brought my other shoes."
“Maybe remember that the next time you fly down to Brazil to fight someone.” Dad chuckled as he looked me over, his anger appearing to fade. "How's the circulation in your toes?"
"Not great, but it won’t be for long. You can cut the tape off afterward," I replied, wiggling the already numbing digits. "You ready to pull me out if they go a bit overboard on extracting their pound of vengeance?"
"You'll get out of here," Dad said, "no matter what. Now go kick this guy's ass."
I grinned and slid my pants off, thankful I'd decided to wear briefs that day instead of going commando. I pulled the shorts on and tied the drawstring, standing up. I looked over where the Mendosa group except for Eduardo stood watching me. I saw the one named Vincente tapping his rifle, murder in his eyes. I looked at him closely and figured him for another of Luisa's brothers, most likely the middle one. He looked like a punk more than anything else, and I wish I could have been fighting him instead.
Eduardo, in the two minutes or so I had to size him up, was different. He was cold, calculating, and was committed. I knew as a BJJ brown belt he knew how to take damage, and this was not going to be easy. In fact, most likely, I was going to take an ass whipping.
I took my first step toward the hangar, curious if I'd even be able to walk. It wasn't easy, but I was able to make my way slowly to the doors of the hangar, waiting while they were opened. Inside, I saw that a circle of vehicles had been formed, with a tiny space left in the middle for me to squeeze through. Eduardo Mendosa was standing in the middle, stripped to the waist and wearing drawstring pants and a t-shirt. He was in good shape, not carrying too much muscle, and looked rangy and lanky. With my ankle the way it was, I hoped he had a glass jaw or I just got lucky.
I gave Dad a nod and stepped through the hole in the circle, looking around at the rest of the circle. Guillermo Mendosa sat on the hood of an SUV that looked like a Jeep, while Luisa stood next to her father in the gap between the SUV and the car next to it, her arms crossed over her chest and chewing on a finger. She was scared, and I understood. I was too.
I made my way to the center of the circle and extended my hand to Eduardo, who shook. He was devoted to hurting me, but he had honor, I could tell that much. I hobbled back a step and looked around. "Who's the ref?"