Malo - Page 40

“The war room?” I blurt out, raising my eyebrows.

“Yeah, that’s what he’s calling it,” he replies, a smirk curling up his lips. “We’ve got a lot of men to coordinate, a lot of people to get in hand. And we want to be ready for that when the time comes.”

The war room. Something about hearing those words come out of his mouth makes a shiver run down my spine, as though all of this has just become a lot realer to me. I don’t know exactly what I have just signed myself up for, but I’ve made the choice now. I’m not going to walk away from this until it’s done.

Until my father is back by my side, and those cartel fuckers have been brought down for good.

CHAPTER 29

MALO

Sin leads the way to the war room, his shoulders hunched up toward his ears and hands balled up into fists at his sides. I can see the tension written all over his body, and I can’t blame him. He knows as well as I do what we’re facing here, and whatever comes next, it’s not going to be easy.

Beast has called us all down to the war room—we haven’t used it in a while, since Thor was injured and it was his makeshift hospital room—and the place is jam-packed by the time I arrive there. Much as I would have liked to linger over breakfast with Maria, talk a little more, make amends for going AWOL like that in Mexico, now isn’t the time to get emotional. I have to stay focused on the matter at hand, and right now, that’s planning out our next move, and preparing to make our strike against the cartel.

I squeeze into the room behind Sin, and the place is crowded with people. Not just the usual faces, like Thor and Blue, but the low-level guys, too, the ones who work out on the streets, the ones who rarely stop by the compound, Beast has brought everyone in that can be of help. A representative of the Cafarellis is here as well, leaning up against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he surveys the room in front of him. After the strike Las Rosas Negras took against his family, it’s no wonder he’s ready to do whatever it takes to bring them down. And the more enemies the cartel makes, the easier it’s going to be for us to build up a force able to end their reign for good.

Beast claps his hands together, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and I wonder if he’s been sleeping at all since I got back from Mexico. With the shit that he’s facing off against right now, I wouldn’t blame him if he’s been tossing and turning all night, trying to figure out the best way to handle it.

“Quiet, everyone,” he orders, as though anyone would dare speak over him. All eyes in the room are on him, waiting for his next command. There are men here who owe him their lives, and I’m sure they would be willing to go out and lay down their own for him right here and now, if they thought that’s what he wanted.

He sinks into a seat, and draws in a long breath before he begins.

“Like most of you know,” he starts. “The cartel has eluded us until recently, but that has changed. There’s been an increase in their presence around the city since our men arrived back from Mexico. We don’t have exact numbers yet, but the change has been significant. Tenfold, at least compared to what they had here before.”

There’s a murmur of shock around the room. That’s a whole hell of a lot for us to deal with. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my mind flashes, briefly to the baggie up in my room right now—I didn’t have the nerve to dump it, though I probably should have. I’ve convinced myself it’s some kind of test to have it there, available, though I know I’m likely pushing my luck more than I need to be.

“And that means we’re preparing for war,” he continues. Silence falls over the room, as the enormity of the situation dawns on everyone hard. We’ve taken on some serious enemies in our time, but this isn’t just some skirmish—this is it. The fight that will bring the cartel to an end.

Or, if we fail, finish off the Kings for good.

“And I can’t risk anyone on our side who isn’t completely dedicated to bringing those fuckers Las Rosas Negras down,” he goes on, narrowing his eyes as he looks around the room. “If there’s anyone here who can’t handle it, anyone who has their doubts, now is the time to leave.”

He looks around the room, waiting for someone to make a move, but not a single person shifts a muscle. It’s a testament to the loyalty he’s built in the people who form the Kings, that everyone is willing to do whatever it takes to make sure they do their part in the upcoming war.

Beast nods curtly. “Good,” he remarks. “Now, we need to focus on getting ourselves ready for whatever they throw at us. We know these fuckers, they’re going to fight dirty, with everything they can. Whatever happens, we need to be ready for them.”

He glances over at Sin.

“Sin is running training for hand-to-hand combat,” he continues. “If you’ve got any doubts about your abilities in that department or just want to brush up on your skills, I suggest you take him up on it. And Blue”—he points over in Blue’s direction—“will be able to fill you in on anything you need to know with regards to armed combat. Some other brothers are coming down from New Orleans and possibly Las Vegas in the next few days, and I’ll expect them to be welcomed as any of our other men would. Is that clear?”

There’s are mutters of agreement around the room. I’m glad to hear that there are other men coming down to help us out. We’re going to need some serious numbers if we’re going to stand a chance against Las Rosas Negras, and calling in other Kings will boost our numbers by a considerable amount.

As I stand there and listen to Beast, it really drives home to me how serious this is. And just why Beast was telling me yesterday how much I needed to get my shit together. He needs to run a tight ship, the tightest, if he’s going to bring down the bastards who have caused so much pain and suffering, and he knows it. No matter what’s going on in my head, I have to keep my focus, I have to keep myself clear-headed.

But, just thinking about that, it’s enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. A part of me is already protesting at the sheer level of stress that’s hitting me right now. There’s a reason I hung on to that baggie, and I’m not going to let go of it anytime soon. Even just to have it to rely on if I need it—which I won’t, I’m sure of it. I can handle myself. I can handle this stress, I will. Shit, I’m going to be so busy, I doubt I’ll have so much as a minute of time to myself to think about getting high.

At least, I hope not. Because the stakes are higher than ever right now, and I don’t want to find out what happens if I fail.

“All of us know what kind of man El Serpiente is,” Beast continues, looking around the room again. Just the sound of that name makes me tense up, and I know I’m not the only one. I can sense a few of the guys around me bristling just hearing it. God knows what shit they’ve had to go through at his hands. I’m still reeling from the guilt of what happened to Harley, and it’s not as though they even laid a finger on me directly.

“But we need to clean the scum off the streets for good,” Beast tells us. “And the only way to do that is to cut the head off that snake once and for all.”

I’m not sure if he’s talking literally. From the pissed-off glint in his eye, I wouldn’t be surprised if he meant it. After everything El Serpiente has done to us, done to the people close to the Kings, it’s not as though he wouldn’t have a damn good reason for wanting to have his head.

El Serpiente. Nobody even knows his real name, he only goes by that stupid nickname. The snake. Like he wants everyone to see him as some kind of mythical beast. But he’s not, he’s nothing of the sort. He’s just a man, like any other.

And, when the time comes, he’ll die like any other too.