Alejandro
I stoodat the floor to ceiling windows of my office at my hotel, looking out over L.A. Somewhere out there was the man responsible for trying to kill my father. It had been two days since some Cabrón had pulled up at a stop sign and put two bullets in his chest. He was lucky to still be alive. But two days later, I was still no closer to finding the shooter, or who was behind it.
‘Alejandro,’ I heard a deep voice behind me. It sounded so much like my father’s voice that I shuddered.
‘Phillipe,’ I said as I turned around and saw my uncle walking through my open office door. Only two years younger than my father, he looked much like him too. The same square jaw and dark hair peppered with silver. He was slightly taller and leaner though, and his temper not so volatile as his older brothers.
‘How are you?’ he asked his face full of concern. ‘Have you slept at all these past few days?’
I shook my head. ‘How can I sleep when that fucker is still out there, Uncle?’
He sucked the air in through his teeth, about to reprimand me, I was sure, until we were disturbed by two more figures walking into the room, Jax and my uncle Carlos.
Carlos was the youngest of my father’s brothers, and while he looked like his older siblings, that was where the similarities ended. There was ten years between him and Phillipe, and at forty-eight, he was only fifteen years older than me. As a child, he had always been a hero of mine, but as I got older and started to take on more of a role in the family business, I sensed the resentment building between us. He and I had very different ideas about how things should be done.
Carlos was what my father described as a loose cannon. He was unpredictable and impulsive, but he was also a skilled assassin, and he was a feared enemy of any who crossed him. My father and Phillipe had always looked out for him, and for the most part, they kept him in line.
‘Have you found out anything useful yet?’ Carlos barked as he walked into the room. Jax was directly behind him and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t my uncle Carlos’s biggest fan either. Largely because Carlos seemed to resent Jax’s status as my right-hand man. Jax was from Dallas, the son of a cowboy – he wasn’t a Montoya, he wasn’t even Spanish, and therefore, in Carlos’s eyes, he shouldn’t be allowed into the inner circle. But, as far as I was concerned, Jax was my brother. We had been through more together in twenty years than most men did in a whole lifetime. I trusted him with my life and we couldn’t be any closer even if we had shared the same blood.
‘Nothing yet. How about you three?’ I asked with a sigh.
‘Us?’ Carlos sneered. ‘I thought you were the brains here, Alejandro?’
I felt the anger surging in my chest. Carlos still blamed me for not being here the morning my father was shot. I blamed myself too, but I couldn’t let him know that.
I saw my uncle Phillipe’s mouth open as though he was about to speak – no doubt to intervene the way he usually did whenever Carlos was running his mouth, but I wasn’t just their nephew any longer. I was the one in charge now, and it was about time they all remembered that.
I stepped around my desk until I was standing directly in front of Carlos. ‘I might have been in New York when my father was shot, uncle, butyoutook your eye off the ball.Youare the muscle of this family, are you not?Youare the one who is supposed to deal with our enemies.Youare supposed to watch your brothers backs. This happened on your watch. So, yes, I want to know what the hell you’ve managed to find out,’ I snarled at him.
He scowled at me, no doubt wondering whether to challenge me any further. But, he decided against it and he cursed under his breath and sat on one of the chairs opposite my desk. Phillipe sat down too, while Jax stood behind them near the door. He was chasing leads all over the country, and if he received a call, he could step out easily and take it in the other room.
‘What do we know?’ I said with a sigh as I sat behind my desk. ‘Jax?’
He cleared his throat. ‘CCTV from the diner across the street, shows a motorcycle pulling up next to your father’s car at the intersection. Two shots were fired through the window before the shooter sped off in the direction of downtown. High caliber, armor piercing bullets. Your father was wearing a vest when he was shot. The bike was found abandoned two miles down the road. Whoever was on it, must have had someone waiting. The bike was stolen. False plates. No prints. This was a planned and well executed attack by someone with power and connections.’
I nodded. ‘Ruling out the Ortegas?’
‘I believe so,’ Jax said.
‘We can’t rule them out entirely,’ Phillipe interjected.
‘I know, uncle. Which is why Joey Ortega is currently unconscious in a container at the shipyard. Jax and I are going to pay him a visit shortly. But, this doesn’t fit with their MO at all. The Ortegas are not this well organized or sophisticated. They don’t use shooters either. Their calling card is to set their enemies on fire and toss them off a building. Besides, they have no beef with my father. It’s my clubs and the local drug runners they are interested in.’
‘Maybe, they are branching out?’ Carlos suggested.
‘There is always that possibility,’ I nodded in agreement. ‘But, this was so well executed. The shooter had to have known that Papa would be at that intersection at some point that morning. They must have also known that he’d be wearing a vest. Who even knew that he was in L.A? He had a meeting with me here at the hotel, but that wasn’t planned. He told me that he and mama stopped over unexpectedly.’
Phillipe nodded. ‘Yes. Your Mama and Rachel wanted to go over some plans for your cousin’s wedding.’
‘Anyone could have seen him coming in and out of the hotel, amigo?’ Jax offered. ‘He is not exactly inconspicuous?’
I couldn’t help but smile. ‘No. He is not,’ I agreed. My father was larger than life. He charmed anyone who met him, until they irked him in some way and then incurred his legendary temper – something which wasn’t hard to do. Not to mention, he went everywhere with at least two armed bodyguards. Except on the morning he was shot. Why?
I rubbed a hand over my jaw. ‘Why did he leave the house that morning? And without his guards?’
‘He said that he needed to see you,’ Phillipe replied. ‘He left in a hurry.’
‘Why did he need to see you so bad?’ Carlos snapped.