10
Mecca
Maybe I was naive, but I didn’t have an ounce of fear driving alone into Corvel Cardenas’ compound that he called a house. Corvel was the second in charge, the mouthpiece, and mediator for the queen of cartels, Silvia Cardenas, one of the most notorious queenpins in the business.
I’d had to do some fancy maneuvering to get rid of the guard Arjen was convinced I needed in order to make this meeting. I appreciated my husband’s interest in keeping me safe and didn’t mind the extra gun in case something went down, but there was no way I was leading anyone to my supplier.
I had traveled to Corvel’s many times with my uncle and stayed in my place by remaining quiet and observing their interactions. For reasons I have yet to figure out, Corvel always included me in their conversation, asking my opinions and questioning me like he was testing me.
The fact that I spoke Spanish pleased him as well. My fluency in the language and being armed with an arsenal of training to be my uncle’s personal bodyguard, were the main reasons Raymond had decided to start bringing me along.
Maybe Corvel understood that I was being groomed to someday take over for my uncle. However, no one could have predicted it would have happened in such a fucked up way.
Armed guards conducted a thorough check of my car, opening the doors, the trunk, and hood while I stood in an area they had pointed out. It was expected, but I was naked without my Glock, HB, either on me or within arm’s reach as the guards had taken it and would return it when I departed.
Once the car was checked, I was allowed to drive the rest of the way up the driveway, where I was then directed to where to park my vehicle in front of the house.
Silvia Cardenas was my shero, because she ran one of the biggest and most feared cartels in the country with an iron fist. I drooled over pictures the media would capture of her, always regal and always the epitome of class and elegance.
She was one of the most powerful Mexican-American women in the world, who rubbed elbows with government officials and any number of high-level types. Her multimillion-dollar cosmetics and perfume lines provided her the cover that the world chose to see.
Underneath all the glitz and glam, Silvia hid her beast that had the power to rip apart hell and made enough money to rebuild it. She always carried that smile that made you think she had just done something bad, like ordered someone’s beheading.
While most little girls and young women were dreaming of a husband and children, becoming lawyers and doctors, or running businesses and corporations, I dreamed of being like Silvia Cardenas.
Susurrador de la Muerte, death whispererwas what they called her: a name that reflected the level of terror she was capable of dispensing.
Few knew Silvia was the head of a cartel, and of those of us that did, we rarely saw her, or in my case, had never seen her in person. She was a ghost to the underworld, but her presence always lingered and incited fear. From what I knew, she made appearances when she needed to whisper her song of death in someone’s ear.
I took my seat on the large snow-white couch centered in a living room that rivaled an auditorium. The black briefcase I carried was checked three times before I was allowed through the front door.
Corvel entered the room with a ready smile as I stood to greet him. Low-cropped dark hair, mid-forties, fit, and always impeccably dressed, he could make women half his age swoon, but he loved men. He clasped one of my hands in his and brushed his lips across my cheeks before he let them go.
“Ms. Evans,” he stared, but put a quick stop to his words by sealing his lips and tapping a finger against his hip. “My apology. Mrs. Vallin. You look lovely, dear.”
Today, I had chosen a dark blue designer pantsuit to give life to my integrity and seriousness.
“Thank you,” I replied, grateful that he was in a good mood. I had seen him in a bad mood while with my uncle, and it was a side of him I would rather not deal with. Although after I update him of the mess my uncle had left, he was likely going to lose that bright smile.
“Something to drink?” he asked. He hadn’t articulated a word of English yet, preferring to speak in Spanish.
“No, thank you.” I never drank while conducting business.
Corvel sat beside me on the couch, slanted so that he could observe me. He had this way about him that he would observe every part of your body while you spoke like he was attempting to detect deception by studying your body language.
“I wanted to sit down with you to bring to light all that has occurred in the past few months. Some, I was aware of, some I wasn’t, but all I have inherited.”
He nodded, eyes curious, but likely already knew most of what I was about to tell him. I learned a long time ago, that you disclosed everything pertinent to maintain a certain level of trust and respect needed in a business that dealt with dispensing the art of war, and mediating between life and death when producing a product that was the link between them all. Add to that, the cartel had had someone keeping an eye on me, so it would be wise to provide full disclosure.
I revealed all the information on the incidents that led to the discovery of my uncle’s raw deal with the Vallins, and of him disappearing with millions. I went on to also confess the news of our last shipment being seized by law enforcement. Corvel listened intently and watched me in the way that he does everyone.
The tips of my fingers brushed along the top of the briefcase at my feet before I picked it up. “I’d like to present this two million as good faith money, in the hopes that you will allow us to fix our problems, root out our infected areas, and continue to do business with you.”
He had hardly glanced at the bands of money inside the case before his eyes returned and locked on mine.
“We appreciate your generous offer and will accept it. However, I must inform you, Mrs. Vallin, that your uncle has another problem that you are unaware of.”
My heart wasted no time shattering and dropping into my stomach to be digested. What the fuck had Raymond done now? He no longer deserved the title of uncle anymore. He didn’t even deserve to keep the Evans name. From now on, he would be referred to as Raymond.